Criminal Lawyer Vancouver – Poetry By Larry Smeets






We sit alongside

a long court table:

the prosecutor to the right –

solitary, silent,

unsmiling;  my client

on edge to the left.

We’re nationals all

of the same land.

Yet within these walls

there’s no family of man.

Governnment lawyers,

lawmakers and police

work here hand in hand,

a self-governing kingdom

ruling over the rest.

Their task today:

to get the court on side.


The judge comes in.

A guilty plea is entered.

The hearing begins.

The prosecutor reads

from lines scripted

by Burnaby RCMP,

portraying in the worst way

my client’s deeds.

His problems cease

to be a private concern;

they’re the Queen’s problem now

and must be handled

(urges her crown counsel)

with a firm hand.


The prosecutor quotes

from the Canadian Criminal Code

as if it were a holy tome

handed down from Mount Ottawa

on tablets of stone.

Admits no exceptions

to the rules of the land.

Sees no proper course

in life for a drug-addicted man

but blind obedience

to Parliament’s command.

This prosecutor’s a hammer.

The court is his anvil.

My client is untempered steel.

Justice is the sound heard

when the four of us connect.

One Comment

  1. Glen says:

    Nice to see your compassionate soul shining through, Larry.

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