Best Police Car Poems


Premium Member Wabbling World

The task begins with awareness, and freedom without it is harmful. So let us not look back in fury or forward in panic, but rather around in awareness. By Poet



Let me tell you a story.

Can you Imagine a harsh quiet? Jeers sneer idleness,
or scoff to classify the ultimate sinful act of sadness;
or quashing irk for an eternal colossus of havoc,
perhaps the planet was spaed and will be ruined here.

Cynical scorn asphyxiates, cauterizing all life on Earth; 
who can imagine how vile days linger eerie memories?
how often tongues are swelled with astringent tartness? 
those with acidic sadness tease with a biting reply. 

Soul was sunk on all live paws to quell a herd of verrucae,
could you kindly scan feeble shapes on a pealing day?
how would you handle a splenic tongue with an awful zest?
or apply on a scorching sting a horrible sneering welt.

Mortal musings slay my sight while roaming ruins,
I feel the pain, frocking seconds ripen fruitful minutes;
none to stop him, acidulous hours burn a swollen body,
did you honor your vow not to view your tears in public?

Or, to win, they select the nuclear light to avow the day,
scavengers swarming forbidden self-destruction zones;
where the war had started, it was awarded might;
whenever beguiling eyes and spite the sight,

I hate lethal viruses as much as a police car passing by;
I hate falling asleep at night as well as not falling asleep,
I hate the doorbell at night and massive storms,
I hate going broke or having too much money.

I fear being late and fear being the first to come;
I fear that all I yearn for might jeopardize others I love;
I fear death or a miserable existence for a long time,
I fear not adoring enough and being confused.

Slow slurps, wearing vengeful speeches bleary;
on stage atomic bombs were used to turn the sky purple;
Insouciance fosters the dreadful pulverization,
I should have dropped my Kyiv pass.
wabbling world......

2ND PLACE CONTEST WINNER

Written: April 17, 2022

Theme: War

Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Small Town Cop

Alternating red and blue, police car siren blaring.
My heart is thumping wildly. I wave and blow him a kiss, 
But he doesn't notice. He is on the job, not caring.
And since I'm driving slowly, a chance meeting I'm going to miss.

Had he wings, he would be the Heavenly Angel Michael.
But he is an honest cop who watches for speeders on the road.
His manner is courteous; his aura is physical,
Yet, his peaceful brow is smooth, tending not to furrow hold.

Today, I see him at the curb writing a citation.
I wave, I wink, and blow a kiss as I drive on by.
Though my heart is bursting with daily infatuation, 
It is those California girls who always catch his eye.

Premium Member Life Sounds That Speaks Volumes

hear the groan of an old man getting up from his chair
hear the rumble of a hungry tummy
hear the clink sound of a glass toast
hear the click sound of the light being turned on and off
hear the honk of the car trying to get through the crowd
hear the waaaaaahhhhhhh of the police car
hear the clang, clang, chugga-chugga, choo chooooooo  
of the train comes down the track
hear the tweet, twitter, cheep, chirp of the birds in the trees
hear the peep, cluck, cock-a-doodle-doo, gooble-gobble,
quack, oink, neigh, hee-haw, baa, meow, moo, woof,
of the farm animals-conversation
hear the babble of the river
hear the contagious happy sounds of laughter
tearful moments of happiness and loss
life rhythm that speaks volumes

6/6/2021

just mussing   

Rama Balasubramanian ask to add the chirping of birds
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member THRONE OUT


Andrew ordered a stripogram, Kay
To visit him on his birthday
When he opened the door
Sixteen copper’s he saw
They cuffed him, then took him away

After questioning for many hours
In the police car oh how he cowers
There’s one thing I’ll bet
He’s been covered in sweat
His birthday bash pizza night sours! 

The Epstein files are in the press
Now Andrew’s life is such a mess
As his recent arrest
Surely made Andrew stressed
He’s guilty, but he won’t confess

I’m hoping royal succession can
Be removed from this vile man
I’m “Throne out,” he will moan
“The loo’s my only throne”
All royal titles flushed down the pan!

Premium Member Winter Learning Ducks

Afternoons the sky shuts down around the swamp's warning tapes
propped up with restoration piping and dirt leak fencing.
We’re fleeing toward the wild, seeking the names and shapes, 
the same way the Cedar Waxwing flit and grip for berries tree to tree.

Canada Geese are easy, they lead off down the lane leaving residue,
Widgeons have green stripes and gold stripes, one American 
the other European, and they’re all mumbling our family phew-do
they didn’t burn the kid, they can’t keep the house clean, drugs…

Blink away the cold wind tears. Forget all that, only remember
Shovelers have the long low profile and the long bill from studies
in New Zealand, like a deep breath, we set aside work, unlimber
spy the race of killdeer away from their guarding territory in gravel.

Our boss didn’t try to replace us, he ducked out to a new job
leaving the crime ringing in our ears like the police car roaring past.
Head down, we tunnel under the high way finding the dunk and bob
of mergansers and their hallowed or red heads,

remarking differences when the sudden scream of honking
mallards flee up river. Caught off guard, we wonder did we cause
all this pain? The rise and dunk flying goldfinch happily chirping
cling to the thistle, their favorite waste near the waste water

ponds where all the Black River water flows for cleaning
spilling into the nesting lower stages of the tertiary treatment.
That’s all this is, treatment for the shock wave week riding
current events on our shoulders, almost like the red-tailed hawk

that screams and skims our head, rising up to the setting sun 
turning the sky purple and pink and bruised. That’s when wood
ducks skim into view, our breath captured and then steaming undone
but soon the heavens offer confirmation, blue angels
with their huge oversized wings soar in pairs down as gift.
We hold each other then, let screams silence, detail enriched.

Silent,Loud,Eternal Poem

Silent. 
Like a feather floating to the 
ground. 
Silent. 
Like a candles flame in the wind.
Silent. 
Like death. 
Loud. 
Like thunder. 
Loud. 
Like sirens on a police car. 
Loud. 
Like a trumpet, blasting in your 
ear.  
Eternal. 
Like the twinkling stars. 
Eternal. 
Like A book waiting to be read. 
Eternal. 
Like night and day. 
Silent, loud, eternal.


Premium Member A Sunday Drive

A sunny fall day.  The landscape rises and falls in a cacophony of passing hills, trees, and road work.   Hanging in the air, the smell curls the nostrils to protect from the odor of skunk.
	The sign passes by too quickly.  I assumed the familiar old estate was for sale!  But no!  It’s an election sign, as more and more homes seem to tout the small pictures of candidates mounted on stakes driven into the ground. 
	Clouds billow, all slightly leaning to the left.  They seem slightly black where covering the four o’clock sun.  
	A blue tractor moves slowly around the huge field on the right.  Mowing the grass, the huge beast has already drawn and quartered the acreage and will surely be resting peacefully back in its barn come nightfall.  
	My truck wheels, suddenly make the whirring sound as I move to the alert marks to the right of the white line.  Thank goodness, that didn’t last long.
	I see a new police car.  They must be proud of that as tight as the county is with it’s money.  Oh, we are entering that small town!  So, now the county has another source of income, I think as I rationalize the new police car.  
	I stay exactly within the posted speed limits.  I have donated once the that new car and do not want to continue my support.  Just as the zone changes so I can resume my speed, I fall behind a church bus.  You would think after five stops he would be through for the day,  but no, he made five more before turning down a lane.  I Look at my watch.  Gosh, I thought! “Thirty minutes of this”, and it is still twelve miles to the interstate.  O well, the country side was nice while it lasted.

Premium Member My Female Stalker

She's the albatross around my neck
The stone in my shoe
The barnacle on my bum
She younger than my mum.

She follows me around the town
And I'm not sure what to do
She even got jealous when a talked to a lady of 92

I didn't want to hurt her feelings
But
I told her she was mad in the head
And why shouldn't she follow 
Someone else instead.

With mournful watery eyes
Then to comfort her
I held her in my arms
It's then she handcuffed me
And I heard a police car alarm.

I'd been mistaken for a convict who'd 
Escaped from jail
Now I've been here 15 years
As all my appeals have failed.

Just my luck who in their right mind would follow me
I get out of jail next week
I wonder if they will be
A hundred poetry women
Not policewomen following me
Well I can dream can't I.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member I Am With You

Eagle soars, circles in the updraught

keen eyes spot rabbit 

it swoops, dives

run rabbit run

at the last possible moment

it turns uphill

eagle has to turn away

for fear of wing damage

talons missed the target

rabbit gets away

I am with you

 

Young child sneaks out of tent

at dawn, runs down to the water

crock lays in waiting

in a foot of water

near the edge as fauna

looks for a morning drink

young child about to step into

the water gets spooked

by a magpie, runs back to the tent

crock goes hungry

I am with you

 

Stalker watches young woman in car park

pack shopping every Wednesday night at 10

he's already killed before

as he's about to abduct her

a police car pulls into the carpark

to apprehend a suspected shoplifter

She goes home

 

I am with you

always
© Uwe Stroh  Create an image from this poem.

The Tribute To Jennifer

The Tribute To Jennifer

In a small church on a hill, there are a group of people standing
in silence as they say goodbye to a loved one, who they will all miss.
We will start this tale from the beginning, it was nearing Christmas
And Jennifer and her friends were partying at her house, everything
was going fine, the turkey in the oven and the stockings set for Santa's
Visit, the mother and father went out, so they could all have a good time
As the evening progressed Jimmy, Jennifer's boyfriend said they needed
Some more drinks, so he wanted Jennifer to come with him to the bottle
Shop, she decided to go with him while the rest of the crowd partied on.
They got in the car and travelled down the road about two kilometres
As they were approaching the traffic lights, a car pulls alongside them
 Jimmy was an impulsive type who loved the challenge to a road race,
But they were both unaware what was to happen next, as the intruding
Car pushes through the lights, they both excellerate into the night by 
Now they were speeding around 80kph, they are followed by a police car
So they both go faster, the intruder flees to the right while Jimmy tries 
To stop but the brakes fail, causing the car to vere off the road crashing
Into a light pole, Jimmy's face is lacerated, but when he looks towards 
Jennifer, she is badly hurt, the policeman calls for an ambulance to take
His girlfriend to hospital, he is taken to the police station to make a 
Statement and to later see his girlfriend at the hospital, however the 
Telephone rings to tell Jimmy that Jennifer had passed away, Jimmy was 
Found to have a large blood alcohol reading and was arrested; they
Let Jimmy out to go to Jennifer's funeral, Jimmy felt so guilty about
What he had done, he has lost his wonderful girlfriend over being so
Foolish while driving the car, his Christmas was blackened and he would
Never forgive himself for what he had done, on the day of the funeral
He broke down into tears along with his family and friends as they all
Left the cemetary in the church, very saddened at the loss of Jennifer.
This is her story and the moral to it is to never drink and always
Be responsible when you are driving a car, this is the tribute to Jennifer.

It Was One of Those Mornings

"It WAS....One Of Those Mornings"


On my way to work one morning
on a rainy, blustery day,
this fast car ran the stop sign
causing me to swerve and to sway!

When I made the right turn thereafter,
I saw that he didn't get very far,
Mr. " I don't stop for anyone!"
crashed into a police car!


        
              WTA-IV
            3/10/2016

           *Written for 
"It Was One Of Those Mornings"

Premium Member Scary-Suspenseful

The fog comes rolling in
To the added horror of it
My situation with my car
Being broke down and all
And stuck on the side of
An abandoned road
Nobody has driven by
It’s been eerily quiet
It’s nearing dark now
I’m lost at what to do
Just then a van comes
And actually stops here
I noticed they are young women
Yes, they are all young
And to top it all off
They are all cheerleaders
Crazy luck, they are of no
Use to me in my predicament
I couldn’t fit in their van
I don’t know the extent
Of their potential help
I told the driver that when
They find civilization to call
For help for me
But I believe she forgot
As soon as they left me
I looked around me
It’s now dark outside
The fog is still present
It’s difficult to see
What shall I do now
I decide to brave the forest
I walk for what seems
Like hours on end
Looking for any people
Just then there was a glimmer
A sparkle in the distance
I catch up to the place
Where it came from
It was an old automobile
In someone’s old yard
The house had a lone light
Through a battered window
I look for the door
Just then I hear the siren
Of a police car nearby
I run to catch him
To finally get out of here
To leave this nightmare
I reach my car finally
The police were still there
He asks if this is my car
I tell him yes it is
And let him know I need help
As I have broken down
Here on the side of the road
He smiles and nods
Tells me it happens a lot
Right there at this spot
He hands me a paper
And tells me help’s on the way
I smile and wave
As he drives off I notice
The paper that he gave me
Was a ticket
A dang blasted ticket!

Russell Sivey

Entrant into Gail Doyle's "Stranded" contest

4/12/2012

Fascination With Etymology

the roots – i.e. genealogy of words long held me 
   (no pun intended) held spell bound
e'en upon fertilization of ova and sperm viz – conception, 
   an acute sensory means n'er got drowned
out via the bubbling, dribbling, huzzahing...
   (from within and without the womb) while in utero, 
   especially when me then young spring chick hen ova mum, 
   and cock strutting cock 
   (doodling his due tee) oft testes handsome dad found
their coop t'would be increased by another 
   (at that time no means prevailed to foretell gender, 
   but an old wives tale hatched 
   since time immemorial stubbornly persisted 
   if the husband put right heir (ear) to the ground 
accompanied with petsmart skills of a blood hound
   a close approximation could be discerned, 
   whether the swelling abdominal mound
would yield a son or daughter, 
   which second guess passed thru 
   the umbilical cord shaped grape vine as re noun
splendor – giving participants planning a baby shower 
   purchasing and showcasing an infant gewgaw 
   costing no mo' than a best seller by Ezra Pound 
   or a couple rolling stones,   
 preferably those flat versus being round
with assessment sans prediction per sex of offspring 
   offered slightly greater hedge Tibet 
   with recent introduction of ultra sound

nonetheless genesis (unbeknownst to either parent – 
   trapped in that role for a life time)
this fetus took a fancy to imbibing verbalization 
   that transpired between when shine
warmed the cockles and muscles of this parasite – ha – 
   expanding his vocabulary prior tummy birth in nine
teen hundred and...(th beh so thee ya haint tell in – 
   go ask aunt Roadie) or...find someone name Stein
beck, and give yaw self a pat on the back faw trine
plotting a tentative addition to family tree or 
   (what would turn out tubby more apropos) a vine,
cuz ma late mum referred tomb me as her little monkey
   who when born deeply engrossed reading about urine
thence, when the pediatric doctor snatched the book – 
   BOY DID I WHINE

which out shrilled any wailing police car, 
   or emergency hospital siren
thus...i got christened RED (for short), yet code named 120 db
which translates as the decibel threshold for pain 
   even afflicting the dead poet Byron.

Love Too Late

I was always late 
For you
And I never rushed,
never thinking I had
to
Time stalked me like
a wasp
I floated  through
life as if on a
cloud
Thin air masking my
mistakes
I was as elusive as
life gets
Time meant nothing
And I'm sorry for
this
I'm so sorry for
this

I met you on a
corner
Bitter weather
battering your
cheeks
Blue eyes sparkling
under a mass of dark
hair
You had waited an
eternity there
We drank coffee on a
bench
Mapping out the
stars until dawn
seeped in
As all thoughts
provoked a certain
clarity
You decided it would
only ever be me
Always me
And I'm not sorry

I was late to the
airport
Flying to Naples, no
more planes for days
It had been years
since you'd seen
your family
So I watched as
frost lay  like
icing over your
dream
We played with
silence like a toy
for two weeks
And I'm sorry for
this

The day of your
parting
An hour of snow lay
around your feet
A car skidded, you
landed on the bonnet
I should of been
there
I was at home
reading an article
As your heart beat
for the last time at
the hospital
I should of been
holding your hand,
telling you I loved
you
So I missed your
departure too
And I am sorry
So sorry

Time is muffled
Churches like
conveyer belts for
the living and dead
As babies join this
world, people leave
it
The hurse shot to
the church like a
police car
I imagined it having
flashing blue lights
Saying he's dead,
he's dead
And I am too
I was late for your
funeral
I'm not sorry for
this
It was something I
couldn't bare to do

But, we're you aware
The later I was
The longer I had you
You always calling
Where are you
Where are you
The longer you were
in this world
Even if I wasn't
next to you
The longer I loved
you
The longer I knew
you
The later I was
The longer you were
in this life
Not rushing out of
it
The longer I had you
And I'm not sorry
for this
I'll never be sorry
for this

The Taking of a Hero's Wife, Part Ii

The things they screamed at poor Laura
enraged Owen, and made his blood boil,
to harass a widow who’d lost everything…
Was there nothing left they would not spoil?

Owen saw a police car, on the corner,
the two officers keeping it all in sight,
free speech was free speech, they couldn’t interfere,
so Owen decided to take up the fight.

“You’re all damned fools, harassing this woman,
and you’re cause is insultingly dumb!
You think it’s ‘justice,’ ruining her day
Ooer a well-known piece of criminal scum!

“This was no child caught in the cross-fire,
Oo a fool kind who pushed his luck too far!
You’re defending a drug-dealer, think of that,
of all the lives he damaged and scarred!

“And on top of all of that damn nonsense,
you have the gall to come here to this place?
To terrify the wife your ‘hero’ widowed?
You’re an utter and absolute disgrace!”

Stunned silence fell across the whole crowd,
taken aback by the boldness he showed,
then came angry shouts, then insults and slurs,
Owen prepared himself for the blows.

But just then the two officers emerged,
and put themselves between him and the crowd.
“Anyone who fights we’ll be hauling away!
I’m ordering you all to disperse! Now!”

The crowd grumbled, still in a fighting mood,
but cooled when the cops tapped their Sigs,
they slowly dispersed, growling their rage,
shouting “racist,” and “fascist,” and “pig!”

Owen released a breath he’d been holding,
then went tense when the cop turn to him,
he was an older man, hair fringed with gray,
carved of iron from his forehead to chin.

He said,”I knew Laura’s husband, Cliff,
he was an honorable man, and brave.
When rumor said Laura was seeing you,
I though the grief had driven her insane.

“Maybe she’d broken from all the stress,
maybe she was depressed and down on her luck,
but after today...maybe I was wrong,
standing up for her sure took some guts.”

CONCLUDES IN PART III

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace