These Work Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Work. These are the best examples of Work Couplet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Another fresh year is here,
I would love to banish from my life, worry doubt & fear.
I would like to be joyous, true and live life each moment with zest,
and give the people around me nothing but the best.
I would love to talk, communicate and break mental barriers that are creations,
and work hard towards mending broken relations.
I would love to tell my wife to give me all her tears and fear,
and take from me all my love the loving words she likes from me to hear.
I would love to make an effort to be a good friend,
to my elder daughter and put all petty misunderstandings to an end.
I would love to stop to the people in contact ,the shoving,
and spend more time in loving.
I would love to stop being disadvantageous and outrageous,
and speak only the truth and for that be courageous.
I would love to fight my emotions all unfriendly,
and cover them all with feelings that are friendly.
I would love to learn to be sensitive,
and towards others be open and receptive.
I would love to practice not to crib about all the things life has not given me,
and be greatful for the great things around me I have an opportunity to feel and see.
I would love to learn to be content about all I have received,
and focus now on giving and helping those, whom life has deceived.
I would love to pray for world peace and plant more trees,
and work to help out for carbon emission decrease.
I would love to learn to be unforgiving,
and be more tolerant and caring.
I would love to right some of my wrongs,
and be true to myself and hum joyous songs.
Finally, I would love to learn to be humble and full of gratitude,
and to do so spend some precious moments of my day reflecting in solitude.
If I were to work a miracle I know what it would be
In selfish quest I'd ask to grow in someone's company
Then we could prosper sharing precious moments in life
If I could have the same children, I'd pray she would be my wife
I would treasure the ground she walks on, in joyous harmony
For before I requested this miracle, she opened my eyes to see
Many things we share, architecture and music are two
There's history and geography, she says binds me and you
But it's the music that cements us, especially with Queen
If I were to work a miracle, then this would be my dream
A man I am and near my end.
I have other men to call me friend.
And women round me for the lust
And four leaf clover for the luck.
Beer or buttermilk to drink
And time I have to sit and think.
I have meadows which to mow
And I have crops which to sow.
I have men that call me sir.
I have work to be concerned.
I have obligations piled.
Work to do from mile to mile.
I'd trade it all, to be, you know
A barefoot boy, with a fishing pole.
To rest in the shade by a river bed
Soft grass to lay my youthful head.
Fish and skip stones on waters calm
And sleep out all night -when it's warm.
To unravel natures mystery there
Why the turtle wears a shell?
How the Oriole's nest is hung?
How the frog's croak is sung?
Why the Blue-Bell does not ring?
Why the hornet likes to sting?
My work keeps me shod like a mule
Only in dreams, youthful things I do.
When work here ends, to Heaven I go
To be a barefoot boy, with a fishing pole.
Its not the SOUP,
I wake up bright and early like the sun
Sleeping real late at night before the a.m. dawn.
With a few hours of sleep
I still find my self counting sheep.
Drink my coffee before I leave
Find my self in a zone not even I believe.
I kick the neighbors dog real far
Tired of him barking at me before I get into my car.
Turning my radio on real loud.
Only when I hear a song that will makes me proud.
I never arrive at work real late.
I have to be responsible in the job I hate
The owner opens the door and finds me asleep.
I tell him get out of my face you stupid creep.
He tells me I am lucky he can not work alone.
Why do I insist of not waking him before I leave our home.
He also said he wishes he could fire me.
Instead to leave the soup at night I have to agree.
As soon as I log out of the Poetry Soup I tell him when I'm done .
When he goes to bed I still find myself roaming the Internet for fun :)
Kissing me goodnight, he ask me if I could give him some.
I say just one more comment hun, I'm almost done.
By 4:00 am I am still on the Soup.
He wakes up to a no surprise
Yelling at me he grabs my laptop and than he........
--for GARETH JAMES contest--leave me hanging--
People who are kind and wise
their success will surely rise
Giving billions of pounds to banks that just squander
Sharing bonuses and gifts, as they internally launder
To Mr Cameron, an alleged Prime Minister for the people
You work for us, do your job right, climb our steeple
Currently in our workforce, there are ten million or more
Aged over fifty, by the score, by the score
Pay them all a million, let's call it severance pay
Retire them early, ten million jobs now in play
With their monies they must buy, a brand new fancy car
Ten million cars ordered, a motor industry to travel far
A house they must buy, or a mortgage to pay off
A dying housing crisis sorted, no builders will scoff
To their kids who have become idle, youthful travesty
No excuses now, to schools, college or universities
So many kids will be removed, no hanging about our streets
Education being their answer, crime fixed, the ultimate treat
Buying fuel for their new cars, purchasing a few bottles of wine
Their taxes and expenditure, will leave the economy fine
What the tax payer has laid out, as they internally launder
Whom we have voted in, do your job, we'll grow fonder
Adapted from an email I received at work today.
How often do you visit the Library? And what do you see?
I see oceans and seas of books plus a homeless man doing zzz’s..
He’d apparently been reading before, he fell deep asleep.
He can stay there, they say, as long as he doesn’t lie down to sleep.
Sitting up is OK and of course, as long as he doesn’t create a scene.
He’s kind and gracious and a little strange but can debate any role
When he walked over, we had a talk about the devil verses mind control.
Without asking, what he really wanted was someone to buy him lunch.
There’s a McDonalds two doors down from where we were bunched.
I don’t know what I expected when he woke up and looked around.
But when I asked if he was homeless he wasn’t fazed at all.
Yes, I have been for a while, he said, but my boat will soon come in.
And I realized the library is a warm, safe place to relax and to be.
And the librarians seem content to just let him be.
In the end, I was sorry I couldn’t buy him that lunch.
But recently, my abilities to do so had become a little stretched.
I used to buy the books I read… now the library is more my taste.
I just hope if it comes to that… he’ll graciously share this place.
The library even has computers from where you could write.
And the people there are varied and really rather kind.
I’m on the edge but whole family’s once prosperous are already there.
Cheap hotel rooms in even cheaper hotels, once skirted are full.
The jobs don’t pay for anything more. They are: Bitter, Disgruntled, Lost.
Needed are better and more jobs to re-establish the American Dream.
To give them some hope so they can go back there again…
And don’t just act toward them… like they’re your library man…
Give them back their American Dream as best you can.
Voice of Reason Contest
--Mother, wearing a red bandana around her hair...
hummed "Oh, Susanna", while dish soap scented the air --
Applying for teacher certification
I caused one technician much consternation
My fingerprints had simply not registered
Again and again the test he administered
“Guess you could have had a career in crime,”
He retorted reapplying ink grime
He said this had never happened before
But the results he surely couldn’t ignore
He sent me to an experienced tester
Who made many cracks, joked like a jester
He claimed my blank prints were quite unique
Turned over my hands just to take a peek
The delicate lines could scarcely be seen
And the fingers themselves were awfully lean
“What work do you do?” he asked with a scowl
As he removed the ink with a towel
“I now type 82 words per minute,
Most of my life I’ve been immersed in it"
My helpless fingers were worn to the bone
And my tester let out a mournful groan
Apparently pounding on my keyboard
Had produced an undesired reward
Faint thumbprints revealed no criminal record
And I won an overachiever award
Typing is essential to the work I do
Next time they need prints, I’ll remove my shoes
** True story for the Finger Frenzy contest
~~~~ "Would You Like To Buy A Bag ? " ~~~~
Two years ago, to the day
If you needed a bag , you must pay.
A nickle a bag we did charge
Whether its small, whether its large.
The customers were incredulous.
Some were sullen, some caused a fuss.
Some threw things, some would curse,
Some would stuff everything in their purse.
Some loaded their purchases to their chin
As if it were a battle they must win.
You'd think we were crazy, out of our head
Suggesting they use cloth bags instead.
It's been two years, we still hear them say
"Me?...pay for a bag?, that'll be the day"
The landfills and oceans have plastic galore
And courtesy of us, they'll keep getting more.
for Susan Burch's contest "Paper or Plastic"
my theme - plastic