Long Cop Poems
Long Cop Poems. Below are the most popular long Cop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cop poems by poem length and keyword.
Fragments of 1972
David J Walker
I carry the year 1972
in a leather messengers bag
That sags and strains the strap from my
shoulder to my hip
and I claim
to open it only
once a year at midnight
but that is a malleable lie
that has
morphed as I have aged
Have you ever raged at a minor
Injustice
Do you trust your minister to dispense
Only the holy truth
Are you glad that you are not
A traffic cop
Directing traffic
Do you believe you can solve the world’s problems
By inviting everyone
One at a time
To be your neighbor
Do you ever see yourself as the antithesis
Of a solution
To a problem that
You were the only one
Who didn’t know
My calendar is a fragmented rag and has lost
The first week of
January
including next Wednesday
When I go back there I feel
Overdressed and
Out of place
Sofa Chances
A veteran who served this land
Employed by a sofa shop
In Bethesda, Maryland
Made an afternoon delivery stop
Lovely lady came to the door
Wearing provocative dress
He put the couch on the floor
And sat down quickly to catch his breath
He on one end of the sofa
And she perched on the other
Thought he'd move a bit closer
Carefully, like a swimming otter
His first brash move caused him to fear
The sofa made a strange sound
But he wanted to get near
So he stood his sofa-sitting ground
After some agonizing moves
He managed to reach her end
And thought how he might improve
His chances to make her a close friend
He whispered into her cute ear
She shrieked like it was doomsday
"Fool, Why did you stay in here?"
My cop husband is in the driveway
Now he's a very swift runner
But the K-9 had great speed
Cop put him in his cruiser
And drove him over to Walter Reed
After required medical care
And handcuffed to his bedrail
The cop didn't charge him a fare
Just transported him to county jail
The armed services think they're autonomous,
after 'Deepcut,' it may no longer be the case;
the man from MI6 paid Colonel Llewellyn a visit,
he informed him that a military court was irrelevant.
He said that the services were answerable to HM Government,
and could no longer abide by in-house decisions;
Colonel Llewellyn looked at the man from MI6,
'Do you have authority to make these comments?' He asked.
He was informed that he did, with a dry smile,
'Situations will be monitored, no initiation rites,
no bullying, no misplaced discipline, nothing like that,'
Colonel Llewellyn said, 'This is outrageous.'
'How do you intend to implement such proposals?'
MI6 said: 'I can assure you that there is no choice.'
He's a black cop
in the neighborhood
He protects his people
a force for good
Dials down the heat
when he's on the beat
Keeps the 'boyz at bay'
on the ghetto streets
Moms and Grandmas
glad he's around
Troubled teens
cast eyes to the ground
Then this year in the month of June
Protestors taunted, 'You dumb raccoon'
'You're an Uncle Tom; yes you are
Take off that badge; turn in your star'
Every rock and bottle they threw
struck his guilty conscience too
He hung in there for seven nights
But on the eighth, he gave up the fight
Now he's tormented -- What to do?
He can't beat 'em; so should he join 'em?
~ Wait! Didn't he already pay those dues?
I turned to the bottle because I'm a Cop.
I was a good Policeman but it had to stop.
I couldn't stand the crime and violence anymore.
It got to be something that I could not ignore.
A six year old kid was killed in the cross fire when a gang decided to attack.
I had to explain to his parents that their son got a big hole blown in his back.
I saw so many deaths that it became hard to even keep my meals down.
I could no longer tolerate the violence in this crime infested town.
I couldn't continue being a Cop, it was something I couldn't take.
It bothered me so much that every day my hands would shake.
My career as a Police Officer came to an end.
And sadly, the bottle became my best friend.
As I sit alone in this bar, the bartender is pouring me drinks.
Please don't be a Police Officer in this town, it really stinks.
(This is a fictional poem)
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.
I'm like Andy Griffith, I'm a cop without a gun.
Because of an accident, I carry a weight on my shoulders that feels like a ton.
I shot my sister with what I thought was a cap gun.
But it was real and I was horrified by what I had done.
The guilt nearly destroyed me, for years I cried myself to sleep.
When I think about that horrible tragedy, I still weep.
I became a cop to try to redeem myself for the horrible thing that I did.
My parents have hated me for years because I killed their youngest kid.
I will not carry a gun because of the damage that they do.
But I'm a dedicated cop who protects everybody, including you.
(Eeven though this poem is fictional, guns should always be kept out of the reach of children.)
She cleans and polishes
Her revolver
A prayer on her breath
She prays that God stays with her
As she makes this difficult arrest
She is the lady police officer
Her life is on the line
She needs friends who will care
When her finger brushes the trigger
And her mind whispers “deliver me”
She battles with depression
Worry and fatigue
She understands that hatred
For her and her gun
Flow viciously with malice and cruelty
She is the one I turn to
When I’m weak and afraid
When no one will listen
To my plea for protection
Still, do I whisper a prayer…
For this lady who defends and shields
Gives me security in this malicious
Wretched place
Where we always need grace
To fall across her face
Guns can be used to kill
But they can also be used
To do God’s will
Guns poetry contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
April 23, 2021
We plunder precious planet at a pace.
Now seems we’re showing some signs of regret
As ill effects now hit us in the face?
But still our need for more land must be met,
Thus wildlife we continue to displace
When their age old habitats we target.
Now we go on depriving them of land
So that our billions further expand.
We see ourselves as Master of Nature,
So she is there to serve our every need,
To be our slave for present and future.
Perhaps our need we should admit is greed.
Am I painting a worrying picture
As our mean ways now make this planet bleed?
How long can our clever ways dominate
And what will come after COP twenty eight.
A vigilante cop ended crime no matter what it took.
He produced phony evidence to put away the crooks.
He would also shoot criminals and make it look like self defense.
Criminals in his town wound up being referred to in the past tense.
He put a knife in a kidnapper's hand after he shot him in the head.
Then he laughed hysterically and said he was glad that he was dead.
But one day he made a mistake when he shot someone in the back.
This time he couldn't say that the criminal was the first to attack.
His punishment pleased some people but others thought it was unfair.
There's nothing dirtier than a corrupt cop and he got the electric chair.
He was a vigilante cop who eventually had to pay for his sins.
He was a disgrace to his badge and he'll never frame or shoot anybody again.