Detective Poems - Poems about Detective

On the tv show Perry Mason The guilty admit their wrongdoing right away By the end of the show at least They apologize and show remorse This show was popular in the fifties A time when people expected others to do the right thing On today’s detective or murder shows The accused person who is caught by DNA denies it Lies, lies, lies,...

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busybodies might help catch criminals if they write down every type of car and license plate parked on their block and the blocks around their blocks it would be helpful too if they jotted down the drivers descriptions they could then be elevated from arm chair detectives…. to real detectives. I would be the first in line if I had any neighbors which...

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in the 1940 detective movies leading men were called gumshoes women were referred to as molls, dames, chicks or dolls. it was acceptable for the men to swat a woman’s bottom. She giggled and acted like she enjoyed it. it was so normal some of us little ones did not know how wrong it was....

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just solved another murder and put a gold star on my chart it sits next to my wet-dog-smell-recliner this is where Beau and I watch crime shows Solving murders one at a time gloating when we are right ignoring my near misses I have spent years here, waiting for my honorary detective badge....

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these unconventional cats who are dicks forties detectives to you out of comic strips make others nervous anyway me go by their last names, like Marlo or Spade interrogate usual suspects under spotlights look to save a damsel or two offices are dirty in a sordid side of town I run from these dicks...

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The spiral staircase made her high heels sing. How happy she felt now that it was spring. She smelled the bouquet of fragrant roses She would marry him; offer her posies. Up she climbed the stairs to their hiding place, Her face shining, lovely so full of grace. The sleuth would ruin such a lovely face, He knew well, her divorce...

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Lieutenant Columbo The crumpled detective in the know He was pulling the strings When he popped back to ask one more thing Jessica Fletcher Would always get ya No panda car required to catch the murdering type She nab them just on her bike Miss Marple (Jane) Into town always came Just after a murder was committed She'd solve it then show you a jumper she'd...

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Whodunnit Poirot Must Know Lolly pop man Kojak Flash back Noticeable Ears Sherlock Not Spock Sponsored by: Brian Strand "Your Preference Poetry Contest" 6th February 23 Awarded 10th place in contest...

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In the land of produce there lives a carrot detective, I swear When rabbits come during the night to steal carrots, she is there. She watches but says nothing until the police stop the next day. For a sixpence, she uses her foot to point to where they ran away. Police are always appreciative, and sometimes buy her celery...

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shriek pierces the night where are the damned batteries ~ just let the place burn ...

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“Give me the phone Effie. I have to make a call.” She handed it over to me and walked into the hall. The inspector had no clues. He asked for my two cents, asked me to give him my views. I didn’t; the call was intense. The dame had come in asking for my advice two days ago and then was arrested by Vice. I had...

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I was a self-admitted misanthrope unwilling to lose or drop a case. I often threw a rope-a-dope just to win; I never lose face. I worked the dark streets for dark, and even darker, clients while the cops walked their beats, shadows showing giants. As far as I was concerned, they were all a bunch of losers. They were bad; they’d get burned. The lot...

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He was alone and lonely. Sadness swept his eyes before he jabbed at me with his cynical sarcasm. He slowly lit his Camel. It was a simple act of murder and he was a scholar of sorts – a player of chess, a fan of poetry. I knew I was under his scrutiny. I agree it looked rather suspicious. After all, the body...

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Here he comes That little man Nattily dressed Spick and span His funny accent A dead giveaway He won't get me No, not today! He's clever though But not more than I He does not know How much I lie I've tricked him well For years and years He thinks I'm thick Wet 'tween the ears It suits me well To play the stooge...

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Sitting here watching TV about the Sherlock Homes tales,  we are all biting our nails.                        ...

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