book of poetry

just collection of my feelings and thoughts put in to poem forms.
poetry being my favroite form of writing there will probley be a lot on here as time go's on. This book will have diffrent sections like love, or joy ect. Enjoy!!

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10. "The Badge"

          

"The Badge"

He starts his shift each day
To respond to calls unknown.
He drives a marked patrol car.
A police officer he is known.

He's paid by the citizens' taxes
To make it safe on the streets.
But he usually has a second job
'Cause a waitress has his salary beat.

Now he doesn't know a holiday
'Cause he works all year round.
And when Thanksgiving and Christmas finally arrive
At his home he cannot be found.

He's cursed and assaulted often,
The one whos blood runs blue.
He seldom ever gets a thanks,
To some he's just a fool.

His friends are always other cops
'Cause people just don't understand
That underneath his badge and gun,
He's just another man.

He knows there might not be a tomorrow
In this world of drugs and crime.
And he gets so mad at the court system
'Cause the crooks don't get any time.

And each day when he leaves for work,
He prays to God above.
Please bring me home after my shift
So I can see the ones I love.

But tonight he stops a speeding car,
He's alone down this ole' highway.
It's just a little traffic infraction.
He does it everyday.

Well, he walks up to the driver's window,
And his badge is shining bright.
He asked the guy for a driver's license,
When a shot rang through the night.

Yes, the bullet hit its mark,
Striking the officer in the chest.
But the Department's budget didn't buy
Each officer a bullet-proof vest.

So he lay on the ground bleeding.
His blood wasn't blue - His blood was red.
And briefly he thought of his loved ones
'Cause in a moment the officer was dead.

In the news they told the story
Of how this officer had died.
And some who listened cared less,
But those who loved him cried.

Well, they buried him in uniform
With his badge pinned on his chest.
He even had his revolver,
He died doing his best.

Written By:

David L. Bell
Sergeant

My dad is a police officer and Has been for the past 15 years. I found this poem when reading and obituary for one of the 4 fallen officers in his city and it brought me to tears. I had the need to share this with you because it means more that a lot to me. No one stops and thanks my dad for the duty that he does. His city pays him less and less every day. They don't provied bullet prof vests yet only 4 offisers have died in the line of duty. 4. We count our blessing since his city is 2 to detroite in crime rate. Detroite has 255 deaths in the line of duty. So if you see a police officer stop and thank him or her because they do more than you will ever know for you and your friend and toy city.

   

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