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For 'teadrinker' on GW forum thread "neighbour cutting our hedge" and for all those who have suffered or are still suffering from anti-social neighbour problems.
This poem is a bit of fun, but the destructive implications of the type of actions depicted are serious whilst the implication of inaction is corrosive and unthinkable.
Humiliation of the real culprits is difficult and shaming of those in positions of governance who could protect even more so.
One would like to think publicly satirising would be effective and satisfying if it could be done. We can live in hope... In the meantime we all seem to have to fight our own corner with whatever help we can find.
The following verses may, or may not, bear a considerable resemblance to actual events: the writer wishes it to be known, however, that this account is entirely fictional as are the characters therein... oh, and no policeman were harmed during this production.
I have set up this thread purely to give the poem it's first airing in full. If the posting works anyone is welcome to post their own contributions, comments, experiences etc.I shall opt out for a bit, however, to regrow my typing fingers!
The next post will consist of the poem, the whole poem (hopefully) and nothing but the poem.
"The Bully and the Policeman"
"A garden is a lovesome thing..."A calm and tranquil space?A place of relaxation?This is not always the case.
I know some peaceful gardening folkWho live quite near the coastWhose flowers, plants and gardenList among what they love most.
But they have a gardening problem -And it needs to be addressed -Involving their back gardenWhich is bothered by a pest.
It's neither moth, nor fly nor worm,Nor any type of bug,But just as detrimentalIs this horticultural thug.
Their neighbour is a hateful manWho vents his bile and spiteWith damage and abuse by dayAnd noises through the night.
This man seems full of bitterness,A state with unknown cause,Which he takes out on his neighboursWhen he sees them, without pause.
The various departmentsSeemed to give immunityAllowing him to carry onWith full impunity.
The gentle folk affectedHave to each department spokenBut the dilatory responsesMerely add up to a token.
They've suffered damage, hate, abuse,Some planting has been trashed.The authorities could help themBut prefer their hopes to dash.
Until upholders of our lawsCan act effectively,I humbly would present you withThis little fantasy:
X. X. X
There lives near you a bullyHe upsets his gentle neighbours.To give no rest to their distressHe'll concentrate his labours.
Now bullies come as young or old -It's even worth a mentionYou may find them in the nurseryOr saving up their pension.
This one likes to glare and stare;He causes damage too:He cuts holes in their fence and hedgeTo see the things they do.
The incentive for this harassmentIs not too clear to seeBut family and happinessIs what it seems to be.
Our gentle neighbours love to chatRelaxing in the sun,Industrious when they're working,Contented when they're done.
This seems to rile this twisted man,I've met the type before.The moment there's activityHe opens his back door,
And marching up his garden pathDrags out his steps and tools;And while he stares or shouts at folkInsanity's what rules.
They tried in vain to talk to himHe'd just glare with disdain.They tried with casual courtesiesBut this too was in vain.
If they said "Good morning,"Or "Why do you hate us so?"He'd then give voice with language choiceAnd "off on one" he'd go.
They often felt like fighting back,The harassment was great,But preferred to live their lives in peaceEschewing vengeful hate.
There came a day they'd had enoughOf snip and peek and pry.They thought to choose a sturdy stickAnd poke it in his eye!
But happily, as things turned out,They didn't needn't to worryFor on hearing voices up he cameJust too much in a hurry.
He faltered as he reached the topIn bafflement and surprise:His victims dared to wait for himWith laughter in their eyes.
He needed now to reassessThis situation new;For just a while he stood there, still,Deciding what to do.
While balanced on those well-used steps,His face was filled with thunder;Then he felt them budge, (there was no "nudge")And soon he looked from under.
Confused he heard their laughterFor he'd thought they would retreat;Then from the floor he gave a roarAnd stumbled to his feet.
He staggered to the telephone:The police'll sort them out.They'll come for me, he thought with glee.(Of that we have no doubt!)
(to be continued .... Too long for one posting)
Go on, go on!
The Bully and the Policeman (continued)
"It's me again," he said in pain,"They pushed me off their hedge!""I'm sorry sir, we cannot stir;Er, were you 'on the edge'?"
"How dare you so insinuate!My mental health's just fine;I think you stall. I never fall,I'm stable every time!"
The sergeant and his constable('one coffee and one tea')Had had to break off from their breakTrue policemen for to be.
"You sure your ladder's fixed alright?We all can make mistakes,"The sergeant said, with aching head,While reaching for the cakes...
"I set my steps on ground well firmWhereon they always stand:The place exact, the ground compact,As I survey their land."
Considering this latest thoughtThe sergeant gave a groan;Beseechingly, across the deskHe offered up the 'phone.
Two policemen held each other's gaze -One sergeant, one PC,Ignoring papers, piles and files,One coffee and one tea.
"One moment sir," the sergeant said."It's you-know-who again,"He breathed. "You go. It's not my shout,I need to rest my brain."
His chum got up. "Oh, by the way..."He reached across the tableTo where his coffee beckoned him,"Our caller thinks he's stable."
"Oh, so it's not the other one,She phoned the other day?""Well that might be, you'll have to see,Now, best be on your way."
He watched the PC close the door,Then said "It's my belief:When duty calls you've got to go."And sat down with relief.
Our sergeant then got lost in thought:Them others aren't so bad,But... I'm not so sure 'bout 'im next door!'His features went all sad.
Now! Felons! thought the sergeant...And his features went majestic:Now them I'll meet! They're up my street!... I just can't do 'domestic'!
Good policing is the thing, he thought,And sucked upon a toffee...Then sagged again with aching brainAnd stirred his cup of coffee.
Crime ain't what it used to be:The villains and the scum.But he shuddered at the thought of itAnd what he had become.
It really used to mean something,The cars, the crimes, the chase!But now it's steps... and hedges ...Meeting neighbours face to face!
Why can't I do it any more?He nursed his aching dome.The clock, he saw, said half past four.An hour - then I'm home.
He started shifting papersTo his chum's place from his own,A crime that was arrested byThe jangle of the 'phone.
"Hello!" "It's your Commissioner."(Now - great consternation!)"Its been agreed there is a needTo meet ... down at your station.
At three tomorrow I'll be thereI want to meet your team.""Why, certainly! I'll order tea.Oh! No tea!" (Silent scream)
He put the 'phone down rather slowThen finished up his cup.You have to know the time to go:It's when you're all washed up.
Our sergeant, once a lively chapWho'd not been one to cower,Attended as instructedOn the dread appointed hour.
The mood was strong, the meeting longFor the officers of our laws;Discussions and decisionsHad to stay behind closed doors.
Suffice to say key issues raisedPut people in their place:Procedure - Motivation -Effort - Public Interface!
Whilst voices of authorityAgreed "We're all hard pressed","Too much concealed", "Too much revealed"Were other views expressed.
Communication was the nubAnd keeping to a plan.But the rot that thrived within this hiveAll pointed to one man.
"Improvements to our workforceMust involve some snip and trim."And amid reviews of timescalesThere was one concerning him.
X. X. X.
It wasn't fair they all agreedTo blame it on one cop,But once it was decidedT'was our sergeant got 'the chop'.
The pension was a help of courseSo now he didn't care.From filing forms to mowing lawnsMeant breathing better air.
He basked away the summer days,The hassles all behind,And past events became a haze;They troubled not his mind.
One day, amongst his rosesWhile reviewing life's events,He heard the sound of garden tools:A ladder? On his fence?
A rose head dropped upon the ground,A 'Fortune's Double Yellow'!Then, once his policeman voice he foundHe then began to bellow.
The oaf next door sent back some oaths."How dare you! I'm a cop!"The neighbour, grinning, stopped his trimming...Then began to lop!
The Station couldn't help, they said,"You don't work here no more.Try mediation," said The Station."Try knocking at his door."
Mediate? IntimidateIs what I'd like to try!I'll tear his hinges off his gate!I'll make 'im want t' die!
One punch could once've sorted this!Thought our expublic worker.Keen and mean, I'd really leanUpon this beeping shirker!
Harassment? I'd show you 'harass'If still I had my youth!I'd have 'im shaking in 'is shoes:Hard or just uncouth!
But now uncouth was winning out,Uncouth and youth was stronger;His policemen days had felt too longBut now these felt much longer.
While trying to work with nature nowWith weeds and pests embattled,That garden pest was besting himAnd really had him rattled.
Then at last he saw the parallelAnd wished he had done moreTo resolve the public grievancesThat came now to his door.
He saw the waste of latter yearsOnce age had cooled his fire:His desk, his chair, his thinning hair -His waiting to retire.
But it wasn't meant to be like this,He'd hoped to have more fun.I tell you what: that policeman's lotWas not a happy one.
The Bully and the Policeman (conclusion)
The world is not a perfect placeYou get what you put in;Good friends and neighbours help us throughThe thick and through the thin.
Some folk help and some folk hinder,Some make better, some make worse,You choose the type you want to be:The blessing or the curse.
The bully may be bullied,And the lazy made to work,But choosing how our world goes roundIs something we can't shirk.
To him who cannot mediateLife's not what he supposes:It's what you choose to cultivate:Pests - or beds of roses.
That is fantastic Birdy, can't wait to read the rest! You've truly hit the nail on the head!
Ooops you beat me to it!
Oh Birdy!. Give the man a round of applause everyone! Absolutely FANTASTIC!!!!!!!
(imagine Kermit here)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well done very good
Yay! (who's Miss Piggy?)
Brilliant, a really good read Birdy13
That's great Birdy, well done and well said.
(Tea said: ... give us a bow.)
Will this do Tea?
Sorry about the size - might be useful for 'big game'
(Must stop this tomfoolery now)
btw, just read your "pome" out to hubby and he sat open-mouthed throughout the whole thing without saying a word. Then applauded. So there.
Fabulous poem. Make me chuckle on the way home from work