Long Bailiff Poems
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There it is displayed in my den, an old oaken swivel chair.
They were going to dispose of it thinking it beyond repair!
It graced the old court house for decades serving a colorful cast.
Many notions of its use crossed my mind as I mused about its past!
A judge may have used it as he sat upon the bench so just,
Dispensing justice to hapless souls at whom the book was thrust!
Perhaps a drowsy bailiff occupied it trying a yawn to suppress,
During a boring trial, praying the judge would declare a recess!
Did a juror slump in it listening to evidence with his peers,
Anxious to flee the place to enjoy a couple of beers?
Perhaps an attorney used it, evincing the usual respect,
As he leaped to his feet proclaiming, "Your Honor, I object!"
It could have been reserved to confine an arrogant desperado,
Lounging in the chair to impress with his pretense at bravado!
I suspect though, that it was put to more mundane use,
By a green eye-shaded grumpy clerk, managing to be obtuse!
The old chair squeaks a lot and if you tilt back too far, beware,
Ere it dump you on the floor, leaving your arms flailing in the air!
Though its many idiosyncrasies someday may harm my spine,
I'm glad I rescued it - its a dear old chum of mine!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
"ALL RISE! THIS HONORABLE COURT IS NOW OPEN AND IN SESSION!"
Th' court room wuz his domain, bailiffin' wuz his profession!
No one dared hornswoggle him in that hallowed room.
Should any nonsense occur, he'd surely lower th' boom!
Usin' th' butts uv his forty-fours, he'd gavel th' court to order.
An' he pounded agin an' agin to quell any cheeky disorder!
The wisened old judge tolerated th' bailiff with some bemusement.
His antics provided folks with local lore an' amusement!
He'd served th' venerable judge fer years on th' western frontier.
His steely-eyed glare filled grovelin' scalawags with fear!
Hoss thieves, cattle rustlers an' drunks he'd seen galore,
An' desperadoes, train an' bank robbers by th' score!
Warn't no guns er bowie knives 'lowed thro' th' front door,
An ya better aim fer th' spittoon an' not mess up his floor!
B'fore enterin' his sacred realm ya'd better wipe off yer boots.
He didn't take no guff frum any of them hell-raisin' galoots!
Adjournment wuz gaveled fer th' old feller an' is talked uv today.
He met th' Big Judge In The Sky, on th' cold floor where he lay.
Seems he vigorously gaveled his rods, a stray slug hit his head!
Th' judge couldn't cope with that an' he too keeled over dead!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I've had many honors bestowed upon me throughout the years.
Accolades and titles were heaped upon me by my peers.
Citations I've received and medals were pinned upon my breast,
But the title "Dad" I cherish more than all the rest!
I was honored to be called "Sarge" by men I was to lead,
And was priviliged to command that extraordinary breed
But there is nothing that can compare or is more dear to me,
Than to be called "Dad" and be the best that I can be!
Those in authority thought I had some leadership abilities,
And promoted me to "Chief" with increased responsibilities.
To be called "Chief" boosts one's ego somewhat I suppose,
But to be called "Dad" is very special, I proudly disclose!
I carried the prestigious label of "Bailiff" for a time,
And though it was an influential moniker and was held sublime,
This nor any other exalted title meant as much to me,
As being called "Dad" dangling my little ones upon my knee!
Though there are many things as a Dad I'll never comprehend,
Lord, I pray for wisdom as I extend a guiding hand.
There are honeyed words and other things that make me glad,
Bu there ain't nothin' I'd rather hear than, "I love you, Dad!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
People rose in quick succession
As the bailiff said "All rise , this court is now in session"
The judge walked into the courtroom
And the trial would begin soon
My client stared straight ahead
On trial for killing the husband she had recently wed
He used to beat her after his drinking bouts
It was either him or her, no doubt
But it was a clear case of self defense
As I listened to the prosecutors opening statement
Then the first witness was called
An elderly woman who lived two houses away
She said she heard a loud argument on the night in question
Followed by two shots in quick succession
But she forgot to mention
That fireworks were going off on the night in question
As more witnesses were called
I cross examined them all
There was no denying that some of them were lying
The trial lasted for seven days
And there were many reasonable doubts raised
Finally it was given to the jury to deliberate
In their hands was my client's fate
On the fourth day a verdict was reached
My client stood up with tears in her eyes
As the judge said "Will the defendant please rise"
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop
But my client's tears did not stop
The verdict was read rather quickly
"We the jurors find the defendant .... not guilty"!!
My clients fears turned to joy
As she hugged and thanked me
I had set the fair maiden free
From the dragon raging out of control
I was the hero, the dragon slayer of old
6/7/22
It's the lamest
I hate it
All these snake pits
Another rapist and racist
You name it
Still to this day it's
The same tricks
And same
Don't tell me to watch my language
Why's there always gotta be a bailiff and plaintiff
Always fighting even when you're related
For a reason pictures were created
Dated artwork that was hand painted
Demonstrated that opposition was decapitated
Or incarcerated
The cause of many outrages
It all could not easily be predicted and calculated
As it was stated
This is accurately translated
People often claim it
And blame quick
Sad that many became sick
Surely it can't be fated
I won't stand for it and take it
I'll work to change it
Not afraid of it, but willing to face it
In order for myself and others to make it
For far too long I've waited
At times I really ate it
For being one of the bravest
At my lowest very far from my greatest
Dang it
This is the thanks I get
It's time I shape shift
Unable to trace it
Still can't explain it
All these tired faces
Too many lives taken
Annihilated
In today's world hard to find peace and quiet places
Endless noise
No longer about toys
Maintaining poise
While working with different alloys
Still looking for joy
No need to be coy
I grew up in a rural, seaside spot.
Where winters were cold, and summers were hot.
Spent sunny days on the riverbank fishing all day.
Until the bailiff came and chased us away.
We’d play games on the beach and soak up the sun.
Until strangers arrived and ended our fun.
They took over the beach and shooed us away.
And told us to find somewhere else to play.
More and more strangers arrived every year.
The farms were all built on as jobs disappeared.
The strangers kept coming and were happy to pay.
When our landlords sold out, we could no longer stay.
The place is now heaving on hot summer days.
The remaining few busy on minimum wage.
Priced out of the village where we had all grown.
A winter a ghost town, we once called home.
Our magical haven of tranquillity
Is now full of holiday homes and Airbnb’s.
The farm hands and fishermen no longer belong.
The strangers now own it and the locals have gone.
In every beLIEve, there is a lie
Which lay hold on your mind; a tie
Like sweats dripping from glands to dry
For feeble is it to live free in forever goodbye...
Be calm but try to ask why
In every lOVERs' affair, there is an over
But before you'll discover
Many are times, you've laughed of Oliver
For his seeming twist in turns recovered
Now comes your turn to rediscover
Life is undercover!
In every friENDship, there is an end
Buried many reasons of needs to blend
In every little mistake you wish to amend
In pleasure to bless your partner and commend
Him off faults but you don't care to pretend
He can still become a godsend
In every trUSt, there is an us
Willing to bear the cross
Of all clouded trance of fuss
Where no one is at loss
Or be tagged a cuss
In lIFe, there is an if
That associates knee to knife
Which surrenders thy lovers to strife
And tears to keep it dead a tiff
Even if we have a qualified bailiff
Let lie be acceptable if it could save a life
Why won't end be welcomed to set us free
If trust is an issue to fight without laugh
Then all isn't over but a disguised referee
But when there isn't space for blunt truth
A place equal for both
Black and White: elders and youth
Who will be undaunting to oath
And caress it like Ruth
Life becomes miserable to cope
And a dreamland for a beautiful lost hope
#GeorgeFloydChallenge!
With a roof over your head,
A key to your door
Fire in the grate
Clippie rugs on the floor
The countryside to roam
A dog by his side
A boy may be poor but
He’s still got h!is pride.
Another spring approaches
Weather more and more mild
Memories rush back from
When I was a child
More than fifty years ago
My dad used to say
Nights were drawing out by
A cock stride a day.
A man of the land once of
The shire drawn plough
Earning his weekly pittance
By the sweat of his brow.
A man of his time when
Most of the working nation
Were condemned to poverty
And blatant exploitation
My mam and dad never
Ever had a lot
But seemed so happy
With what little they’d got
And I had a childhood rich
In everything but wealth
Loved and wanted and
Blessed with good health.
Times have changed and today,
Poor materially have much more,
But the bailiff does at times seem
Never far from a worker’s door,
And I never thought I’d see the day
When a worker gave thanks
For the charity donations
From now essential food banks.
Mithering - North England dialect - worrying , complaining, countering
Tinge, thy colors terrific.
Weather wave, point where?
Heaven and Hell, this may stick!
Brick upon the bare.
Red the rampant real? Rind? Rhyme.
Tornados in time.
Wind above the city, chime.
Tequila, thy lime.
Yak upon the mountain;
Which way doth trouble lurk?
Rubbish, fill the garbage bin!
If you work, you shirk!
Psyche, soul tormented;
This place sure stinks of doom!
Lyre of love lamented!
O curse on pharaoh's tomb...
Bloom upon the tamarind?
Reality grinned.
Sin, thy light the whole world pinned!
Challengers a-chinned...
Roll that boulder, vagrant king!
Silver is thy sting!
Drenched upon but undying!
Rail about the ring!
Levels sinking in the pool?
Silent lies the spool.
O young people, keep it cool?
Flayed dismayed, fair fool...
Ghoul, thy magic terrible;
Golem, shall we ride?
Room within the brazen bull?
Bailiff, how you tried...
He'll leave the baubles in the loft this year;
he so dislikes those sparkly plastic trees,
and real ones these days are far too dear.
The cost of heating home has put a squeeze
on almost everything that's fun, I fear.
He'll send some greetings texts, no Christmas card;
now that he's seen the cost of postage stamps,
using the pub's free wifi in their yard.
A happy holiday to all, love gramps!
He's worked his life; it shouldn't be this hard.
He'll walk to do his Christmas shop through snow;
not at the store but at the free food bank;
the bailiff took his car some months ago;
rising interest, he has that to thank!
A very Merry Christmas Ho Ho Ho!
He'll watch a little telly on the day;
a slice of bread, cold chicken soup from can,
to keep the dreaded hunger pangs at bay;
this hero veteran, this old guardsman.
And in the cold, alone, he'll fade away.