Just the usual detective fiction poem

A few posts ago, I’d shared my poem “A Detective’s Life”. And I’d mentioned that there were 2 poems. This is that second attempt at detective fiction poetry:


Poetic Justice

A scream in the dark and silence ensues,
No one hears.
The victim lies still and her face is pale,
Only dried up tears.

The killer’s struck again, for the sixth time now,
Pattern’s the same.
A shock to everyone, in this small town of Starkville,
They wanted a name.

Detective Frank Burke had no leads to follow,
Every victim lay dead.
Police files say, “gagged; thrown amidst forest trees”,
“No witnesses”, he read.

No blood, no weapons, no crazy slashes;
Strangle and kill.
A victim survived was what he needed to find,
Other clues were nil.

An anonymous call, a frightened voice,
“I escaped from him.
Six-foot, black skin, jacket brown with white stripes,
Has a body trim.”

Townspeople are eager to help, one lady feels sure
“A black troublemaker?
Wears a hat and a jacket with grey stripes on its arms,
Name’s Terry Baker.”

A clue at last, a similar jacket described,
Know he must more,
Dusty files he rummaged until at last he found it,
Early at four.

“Terry Baker - sentenced three years; murdered girlfriend
Out on parole”
The same strangle and gag and forest trees;
Story same ole’.

Detective Frank’s confident, “He is our man and
Find him I will,
Motives he needs none, just dodging the law,
Is serial-killer thrill.”

A few taps on a keyboard and up on the screen,
An address he finds.
A few moments later starts the inquisition session,
Till dawn he grinds.

Under the pressure Terry cracks, and guilty he pleads;
“You’re under arrest!”
Booms Lieutenant Kirk’s loud voice as he pulls out his handcuffs,
“Frank, you’re the best.”

The court has its verdict; “Sentenced to life”.
Justice is served.
Doomed to live forever behind prison bars,
No more a word.

Families of victims and all the townspeople,
Thanked him a ton.
Detective Frank smiled, pleased with himself,
His job was done.

A scream in the dark and silence ensues,
No one hears.
The killer’s struck again, for the seventh time now,
Silently someone leers.


I personally like this poem. I learnt a lot from just analyzing it after it was done. Here’s what:

I wrote it!!
If you ignore the last stanza, it’s still a complete poem and leaves you with a completely different emotion from the one you feel after reading the poem including the last stanza.
Detectives are not always right.
A confession should not be considered evidence for a crime.
And something I learnt courtesy of Dateline, NBC - there have been cases where some, usually first-time, murderers make their job look just like that of some well-known serial killer of the time, so as to throw the police off.
When you find a title that fits perfectly, nothing else matters anymore.