Police Officer's Poems & Prayers

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I didn't get to say goodbye
You're gone without a reason why
I've loved you all of my life
and then you weren't there

I didn't get a chance to say
how much I cared
I can't even remember the tears
that I cried
All I really wanted was to tell you
Goodbye

When I last saw you I felt I wouldn't
see you again
There was a distance between us
that I couldn't explain
You wouldn't look
at me but I could see the tears
in your eyes
If you knew then
You should have told me
Then I could have said
Goodbye

So many words left unspoken
So many hearts left so broken
My love for you is forever
And that will never die
We'll be together always
Our souls are one with God
Eternally and Always
I'll never have to say
Goodbye

Anonymous

“I was that which others did not want to be. I went where others feared to go, and did what others failed to do. I asked nothing from those who gave nothing, and reluctantly excepted the fact of eternal loneliness
...should I fall. I have seen the face of terror and felt the stinging cold of fear. I have loved, cried, suffered, and hoped, but most of all, I have lived times others would say were “best forgotten”. At least some day I will be able to say that I was proud of what I was - A LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER!” (Source Unknown Author Anonymous)

 

A PART OF AMERICA DIED

Somebody killed a policeman today, and a part of American died.
A piece of our country he swore to protect, will be buried with him at his side.
The suspect that shot him will stand up in court, with counsel demanding his rights.
While a young widowed mother must work for her kids, and spend many long lonely nights.
The beat that he walked was a battled field too, just as if he'd gone off to war.
Thought the flag of our nation won't fly at half mast, to his name they will add a gold star.
Yes, somebody killed a policeman today, in your town or mine.
While we slept in comfort behind our locked doors, a cop put his life on the line.
Now his ghost walks a beat on a dark city street, and he stands at each new rookie's side.
He answered the call, of himself gave his all, And A Part Of America Died.

(Author Unknown)

 

The Badge

 It is polished and shiny and looks so fine.
Once you earn it you have to tow the line.
 The minute you wear it upon your chest
it becomes a symbol that you are the best.
 It means honesty, integrity, and fairness to all.
Your life is never your own, but at the publics call.
 Night or day, any hour, it makes you a mark.
It doesn't protect you from a shot in the dark.
 Over the years the shine starts to fade,
but brighter still is the man its made.
 It is often what separates you from the crowd.
It is a second family of which you are proud.
 So now comes your time, you can't be denied.
When you pin on your badge, wear it with pride
 The minute you wear it upon your chest
it becomes a symbol that you are the best.

....unknown author

The Police

I have been where you fear to be
I have seen what you fear to see
I have done what you fear to do
All these things, I have done for you.

I am the man you lean upon
The man you cast your scorn upon
The man you bring your troubles to
All of these men I've been to you.

The man you ask to stand apart
The man you feel should have no heart
The man you call "the man in blue"
But I'm just a man, just like you.

And through the years I've come to see
That I'm not what you ask of me
So take this badge and take this gun
Will you take it?...Will anyone?

And when you watch a person die
And hear a battered child cry
Then do you think that you can be
All these things you ask of me?

Anonymous

 

Never Dreamed

I never dreamed it would be me
My name for all eternity
Recorded here at this hallowed place
Alas, my name, no more my face

    In the line of duty" I hear them say
My family now the price will pay
My folded flag stained with their tears
We only had those few short years

The badge no longer on my chest
I sleep now in eternal rest
My sword I pass to those behind
And pray they keep this thought in mind

I never dreamed it would be me
And with heavy heart and bended knee
I ask for all here from the past
Dear God, let my name be the last
 

• Sgt. George Hahn (LAPD-Ret)

 "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends."

John 15:13

 IF I KNEW

What Are Policemen Made Of ?

By Paul Harvey

Don't credit me with the mongrel prose: it has many parents-at least 420,000 of them: Policemen.

A Policeman is a composite of what all men are, mingling of a saint and sinner, dust and deity.

Gulled statistics wave the fan over the stinkers, underscore instances of dishonesty and brutality because they are "new". What they really mean is that they are exceptional, unusual, not commonplace.

Buried under the frost is the fact: Less than one-half of one percent of policemen misfit the uniform. That's a better average than you'd find among clergy!

What is a policeman made of? He, of all men, is once the most needed and the most unwanted. He's a strangely nameless creature who is "sir" to his face and "fuzz" to his back

He must be such a diplomat that he can settle differences between individuals so that each will think he won.

But...If the policeman is neat, he's conceited; if he's careless, he's a bum. If he's pleasant, he's flirting;if not, he's a grouch.

He must make an instant decision which would require months for a lawyer to make.

But...If he hurries, he's careless; if he's deliberate, he's lazy. He must be first to an accident and infallible with his diagnosis. He must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and, above all, be sure the victim goes home without a limp. Or expect to be sued.

The police officer must know every gun, draw on the run, and hit where it doesn't hurt.He must be able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform and without being "brutal". If you hit him, he's a coward. If he hits you, he's a bully.

A policeman must know everything-and not tell. He must know where all the sin is and not partake.

A policeman must, from a single strand of hair, be able to describe the crime, the weapon and the criminal- and tell you where the criminal is hiding.

But...If he catches the criminal, he's lucky; if he doesn't, he's a dunce. If he gets promoted, he has political pull; if he doesn't, he's a dullard. The policeman must chase a bum lead to a dead-end, stake out ten nights to tag one witness who saw it happen-but refused to remember.

The policeman must be a minister, a social worker, a diplomat, a tough guy and a gentleman.

And, of course, he'd have to be genius....For he will have to feed a family on a policeman's salary.
 

 A POLICEMAN IS....

A policeman is a composite of what all men are, a mingling of saint and sinner, dust and deity. Cold statistics wave the fan over the stinkers, underscoring instances of dishonesty and brutality because they are news.

What they REALLY mean is cops are exceptional, unusual -- not commonplace.

Buried under the froth is the fact that less than one half of one percent of policemen disgrace the uniform. That's a better average than among the clergymen.

He is of all men, one of the most needed, yet most unwanted. A strangely nameless creature who is "sir" to his face, and "pig" to his back.

In an instant he must make decisions which require months for a lawyer. If he hurries, he is careless, deliberate, lazy. He must be first to an accident, infallible with diagnoses. He must be able to restart breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and above all be sure the victim goes home without a limp, or expect to be sued.

The police officer must know every gun, draw on the run and shoot where it doesn't hurt. He must be able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform, or being brutal.

If he gets hit he's a coward, if he hits you he's a bully, if he's friendly he's a flirt, if not he's a grouch.

A policeman must know everything and not tell. He must know where sin is yet not partake. A policeman is a minister ... social worker ... diplomat ... tough guy ... and a shoulder to cry on. The acting father of a society that offers little support to him in return.

The policeman must from a single human hair, describe the crime, the weapon, and the criminal, and tell you where he is hiding. If he catches the crook he got lucky, if not a dunce.

If he gets promoted he has political clout, if not a dullard.

He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache to build a case against a dangerous felon, who will get dialed out by a shameless lawyer, or an honorable judge who isn't.

He also is a genius, for he somehow feeds a family on a cop's salary. A token reminder of societies shameful unwillingness to pay him half of what he's worth.

When God Made Police Officers . . .

When the Lord was creating Police Officers, He was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said,
"You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the requirements on this
order? A Police Officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle their uniform."

"They have to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify in court the next day."

"They have to be in top physical condition at all times,
running on black coffee and half-eaten meals, and they have to have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands . . . no way!!"

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before they ask, 'May I see what's in there, sir?'"
(when they already know and wish they'd taken that accounting job) "Another pair here in the side of their head for their partner's safety, and another pair of eyes here in front so they can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, 'You'll be alright, ma'am,' when they know it isn't so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."

"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the Police Officer very slowly. "Can it think?" she asked.

"You bet," said the Lord, "it can tell you the elements of a hundred crimes, recite Miranda warnings in its sleep, detain, investigate, search, and arrest a gang member on the street in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop . . . and still it keeps its sense of humor. This officer also has phenomenal personal control. They can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Police Officer. "There's a leak," she pronounced, "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."

"That's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."

"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."

"You're a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," He said.
 

POLICEMAN'S PRAYER

Walk with him tonight
Dear Lord
Along each darkened street
Walk with him tonight
Dear lord
Along his lonely beat
Keep him happy through the night
And please make sure he's warm
And guide him to a sheltering door
In case there comes a time a storm
And let him know
Though he's not here
My prayers are free from fright
Because, Dear Lord ,
I, know so well
You're on his beat tonight

author unknown

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