Police - The Man Of The House Poem by Paul Warren

The neighbours complained again of the noise
Of yelling and screaming and a bully's poise
So we attended and entered through the front door
On a common law power of entry against violence to explore

So there was a 13 year old boy cowering in his room
Crying and holding his broken arm and needing treatment soon
A mother was sitting at a table shaking and crying too
Prowling around the house was a fit looking man as his demands grew

The first thing that he said in the hallway of the house
Was f..k off and you c..ts get out the violence to espouse
We certainly weren't going to leave whilst there was danger
And started an investigation that was not in the man's favour

It came out that the boy was a couple of minutes late
And so the father had enforced a rule and his arm he did break
Then it had continued through the house with the father ranting his rules
This was the noise that the neighbours heard calling the boy and his mother fools

It came out during the investigation that the mother had broken bones
With the last needing surgery and a hospital stay with excuses not flown
The wife and the son would not give a statement and go to court
Even though there was domestic violence in the fathers rout

But we could not leave them with the man of the house
And although the evidence was a bit thin we arrested this spouse
He told me that he wouldn't go with us and to p..s off and leave
As we loaded him into the police car and he was not pleased

So we went back to that police station and he threatened us
As we put him in the cell he made quite a fuss
The next day the prosecutors negotiated with his lawyer
And in the end the case had to be dropped even with their implore

You see neither the wife or the son would tell their story
And the man of the house would return in his glory
As he was leaving the station house I saw him the next day
And he gave me a smile and said wasting your time anyway

The police went back there often over the years
And there were times when the mother and son were in tears
The question that I ask when I think of this time
Did we make it better or worse in trying to be kind?

© Paul Warren Poetry