Drunk,
He could have married,
Much better woman,
Armed police femme, not so you'd notice!
The caller was a detective. His words were that our baby was found alive and well.
He said to meet him as soon as possible. Wishing each tree and house we drove past would be the last. Yearning to get there faster. Heart beating. I could think of nothing but smothering my beautiful baby with kisses forever.
Each red traffic light seemed to make us wait so long. Then the green light only allowed the car to travel in slow motion. Fearful thoughts of the abductor of our boy, kept flashing into my mind. Racing to the house of the address we were given, a uniformed policewoman held him out for us to take him. My scream could be heard for miles, as I collapsed to the floor. That’s not our baby boy.
The Christmas tree shone, brightening up the room
Decorations hung in splendour
Gifts lay beneath the tree
He was sat in his favourite armchair
A man at peace with the world
He would watch the children run down the stairs
The room would come alive as they opened their presents
A special present for the good lady
The noise drifted into the past
A long time ago
Seemed like yesterday
The accident
The Policewoman crying, telling him the news
The day he died inside
Seventeen years now
Always the same ritual
Made the day seem right, special
Memories came flooding back
He sat down to rest
Slowly drifting off to sleep
They found him that way
In his favourite armchair
A man at peace with the world.
To my mom
You are the love of my heart,
a yoke of my life.
I'm now avouching that you are the best mother,
everything you do you are doing it for me.
That's why I wrote this poem.
I wrote this poem to tell you how super you are,
you gave me love,joy and education.
I just wanted to thank you for that.
You are my story teller,
when it's bed time.
I love your stories,
because they make me sleep
and overcome nightmares.
No one knows me well in this world,
but you mom, you know me well.
You are my role model,
my policewoman,
my icon,
and my mother.
I love you mom.
She's a skilled fighter
Nests a fire-breathing dragon
Rests in the barrel of her gun
The rumble of thunder
Just a drop of her blood
The badge stood crime still
Time froze in her powerful spill
Injustice fertilised the ground
Against all tradition, she's a knight
Hidden beauty behind the vise
Maiden on the wings of justice
An angelic armour shinning light
I drink daily from her mug
A fresh cop of her love
Full of peace like a dove
Her shield protects me like a bear hug
Limericks crochetés: Once a Policewoman put on road duty
Once a policewoman put on road duty
Ate heart out thinking of rival beauty
So she pinned a ticket
On rival’s car bonnet:
“Take this: your engine’s old and filthy!”
Said rival to the policewoman:
“Under the hood I may be common
Yet in shiny carcass
Ride many a jackass
Who pay(s) your fines in diamond!”
“True enough!” said she who was jealous:
“No wonder your sinus pipes leak pus
When key’s in ignition –
Fumes cough up munition.”
“Think! What/Who jitterbugs in my octopus!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
She held them tightly trying not to cry out with the pain as the door opened. A large woman bearing an almost visible authoritarian streak exploded through the door filling the white sterile looking room with her presence. In a deep manly voice that matched her size, she told them the time was over. They had to go… The children cried as she placed her hand on their shoulders and pulled at them with as much compassion as one swatting a fly or stamping on a snail leaving its silver trail over an immaculate looking flower border.
joined with old bruises
footprints on her naked back…
two children still cry
The cries lingered in the corridor as the doctor showed the plain clothed policewoman into the secure white room. The photographer followed carrying equipment strapped to his body like a solider in full battledress. Pictures were taken of the once slim beautiful, now battered girl who had two beautiful children that were now in care while she was paraded before strangers with a camera before the healing could start from the stamping given as a parting gift by her new ex boyfriend.
© ~GG~ 23/01/2013
Competition Entry: Mixing it up
Like mother, like daughter
Like father, like son
Like uncle, like nephew
Like aunt, like niece
Like grandfather, like grandson
Like grandmother, like granddaughter
A man to a woman
A boy to a girl
A policeman to a policewoman
A deacon to a deaconess
A dog to a puppy
A cat to a kitten
A hero to a heroine
A lion to a lioness
A male to a female
A professional soccer player---------- football
A professional baseball player--------- baseball
A softball player---------- softball
A handball player--------- handball
A horse racer--------- jockey
A sport with sticks and an ice playfield--------- ice hockey
Demeter Edwards
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