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Free Verse Work Poems | Free Verse Poems About Work

These Free Verse Work poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Work. These are the best examples of Free Verse Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

New Dawn

As I roll out of bed tomorrow
I’m gonna say goodbye sorrow
Fare thee well Mr. Cynicism
See you later Mr. Pessimism
Adios to Mr. Skepticism
Exit negativity, enter positivity
No procrastination and inactivity 
An idle mind is the devils workshop
That’s why I’ll exert myself nonstop
No more misery and depression
As exuberance replaces dejection
Success is around the corner
It’s coming now and not later
Victory is surely heading my way
No matter what people may say
I quit banking my future on luck
Time has come to break the duck
A new dawn has shown its face
My home will be a better place
I’m a potential winner, a true born victor
Within me lies a superstar, a megastar
No I’m not building castles in the air, 
I’m not dreaming, I’m not hallucinating
I have to earn my place in history
Put a good ending to my unfinished story
My story is about confidence, not arrogance
I advocate humility, not vanity
Trials and tribulation come and go
Sticky situations are not unique to you
But we all know as well as you do
You need hard work and determination 
For the youth, education is the only solution
You’ve got to make the decision
To extract yourself from destitution 
Leave nothing at all to chance
For fortune favours the brave
No sweet without sweat, no pain, no gain
Each time you fall recollect and try again
A dream doesn’t become reality through magic
Lazy genius is not only sad but also tragic
Stay focused, keep your eyes on the prize
There is no substitute for hard work
There are no secrets to success
Only in the dictionary does success precede work
We are all gifted, skilled and talented 
Unshackle that innate ability 
Let loose that latent capability
I’m gonna prepare, plan and plot
Execute and give it my best shot
Until the day that I hit the jackpot


Details | Free verse | |

Gold Dredging

                                                        Gold Dredging

                                                 Early morning first light
                                 Camped on the rugged, mountainous terrain
                             Out of our warm sleeping bags and tent we crawl
                        To the smells of pine and clean fresh air of the mountain
                              Wood starts a sizzling, spitting, crackling campfire
                             For early morning hot coffee and a warm breakfast
                                         I Dress in tee shirt and swim suit,
                                               Hubby is in his wet suit

                                           We walked down to the creek
                              Pull the dredge into the creek and get it started
                            When he hits bedrock where gold might be hiding
                                    I stand beside the sleuth watching the
                                           Gravel run over the riffles
                                       I make sure the riffles stay clean
                                                So the heavy gold
                                  Will deposit behind them and on the mat
                               I see the flash of color and utter excitement
                                     I yell, “We've hit gold,” impatient
                                       With my tweezers and small jar
                                              For safekeeping and
                                               I keep on cleaning


                  When the day is done, tired, wet, and weary as a drowned rat
                                 We clean the miners mat into a bucket
                   By the campfire we sit and pan our gold from the black sand
                       After the hard day’s work we undertook, it is wonderful
                              To see all the sparkling gold dust in my pan

                                     The same warm excited feeling
                                     I felt when my husband placed
                                 My gold wedding band on my finger

12/27/2014
Contest: Periodic Table of Elements
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen


Details | Free verse | |

Doctor Ram: The Soup's Golden Voice

our beloved brother from India Dr. Ram’s words are better than gold board his magic carpet woven with wit, intellect and insight soar through sagas steeped in mythology captivating revelations on cultural tradition unique perspectives on historical events clever concepts conveyed with humor psychology, philosophy, behavior observations materialize as “Mehtaisms” stirring the soup adding spice to the broth supporting work of members new and old our international melting pot enriched by the work of a Literary Doctor salute a special sage who graces us with gifts Dr. Ram’s words are better than gold
* Dedicated to Dr. Ram Mehta in honor of Joe Maverick’s “Better than Gold” contest


Details | Free verse | |

A Supreme Summer

Out doors a place of freedom where
prying eyes could not restrain the vibrancy. 
School’s out, summer sunshine, crisp morning light,
cuts through the fog of parental restraint.
Blue jeans, tee shirts, Keds and an orange and 
black striped bumble-bee bus of 
prepubescent girls off for their first day
of summer work, farm work.

Bagged and boxed lunches held tight, their
hands taped white to shield them from the
sticky yellow nicotine sap, the itch,
a rash of budding beauty among the 
burgeoning rows of new stalk green.
Tobacco as far as the eye can see
rises on cane-like stalks. The furrowed
fields are uncovered now in the July sun.

Gaggles of girls in candy colors, sweet and sour girls,
tall and short girls, rows of girls among the cane.
Poled lines spanned the rows above the rising canes.
Little twisters walked the gullies tying off each plant,
around the rising stem a hairy-brown twine was laced,
between the fan shaped leaves of dollar green.
Early summer passed, coloring cheeks pink,
and skin to golden brown.

The stalks rose like seeds from Jack. By the first of 
August, they’d topped the girls and the cheesecloth
shades were rolled above. Steamed in the August sun
deflowered-the children were watered and by 
State Law occasionally rested and retrieved if
the temp rose past one-hundred and five below the nets.
Any bit of uncovered skin was burnt or 
tarred black daily by then-harvest time.

Shooed into the darkened sheds Consolidated 
on the dirt floor the stringers stood, sewing 
machines with piles of slats beside them, one girl per machine
two hands, two leaves, in they went between the belted teeth
and the needle lanced. It also lanced tired fingers.
Piecework; I can’t remember the pay scale but
they called it piecework and it was too. [a fine piece of work]
It took bits of you away every day.

But in the dark, high up in the rafters, the darkies
hung the bounty, handsome black Jamaican boys
crews of boys with lilting tongues and they sang,
and we sang “Come See About me.”
We worked, and we sang “Baby Love”
It was a supreme summer. 
On our own, a bloomin’ summer
where all of life was ripe for the pickin’. 



*picking tobacco


Details | Free verse | |

the ladder

                                           THE LADDER

everyone wants to climb the ladder
success is at the top
rewards await those who make the climb
Steady progress is all it takes

sacrifices along the way
no time for kids or  friends
working and working with a little luck
and soon you are at the top

the view from there is great to see
with perks and power to spare
then, one day, the climb is over
and the move back down has begun

the downward climb has a different feel
your thoughts are different now
you don't want to go all the way down
the Mercedes might have to go

you look for a place to step off now
where a comfort level lies
one important thing stands out to you
to be happy the rest of your life

you dont need the county clubs
four cars in the garage
just your family around to keep
with no traffic jams or conference calls

a nice warm bed to lay your head
three meals to keep you full
a quiet place to sit and swing
and a dog to pat on the head

the corporate world is now far away
I have all that I need right here
my love's brought me some cold iced tea
I will drink, take a nap and smile


Details | Free verse | |

'God selected the perfect rose'


your voice now silent never to see you smile again you left us heartbroken unprepared shocked to silence we remember your laughter and your “I can go on attitude” never complaining just being you even when fighting this battle we'll never know why you had to leave us so soon we'll always wonder we'll always have questions God knew your journey was complete when He selected the perfect rose for His garden today--- IN LOVING MEMORY OF A FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE, MICHELLE SCHULTZ 26092011 We, at BABS miss you already
280920111335


Details | Free verse | |

The Fraud

a hallway.  offices.  tinted sunlight.  
people who have forgotten my name.  
but i am here.  
and then a room.  and a meeting.  
and i am unprepared.  
“you’re up”  says the leader.  
and my lungs fill with heaviness as they all turn towards me.  
my mind screams.  
my throat locks.  

and then a word fights through the scream.  
and i breathe.  and find a voice.  
and then another word.  
and a thought.  
then relevance.  
i am moving.  
and eyes do not wander.  
but the scream fights on:  
they will find out.  

i was connected at one time.  
so the scream would fade.   
but not now.  
these many years later.  
“we could use you again,”  
he had said.  
and i had relented.  
but why?  boredom?  faith?  
the scream of fear vs. the scream of isolation?  
or a familiar voice dragging me back from madness.  
“what have you been up to?”  
he had asked.  
and i had lied.  
and now my mind all scrambled between work and stupor.   

“what on EARTH are you talking about?!” 
demands the one who should have taken over for me.  
and the throat locks again.  
and the scream rises up.  
and he knows it.  
but sympathy has no place here.  
so i struggle with the scream. 
and find the words to hide the Fraud  
as he shakes his head in disgust.   

and i remember why i left.  
so i wade in the scream until i am done and take my seat.  
and the scream that never dies whispers, “what else is there?”      


Details | Free verse | |

You Already Know

I'm not great.
I'm not extraordinary,
But I'm okay knowing that
Just as long as you 
Love me
For being
Who I am when I'm 
Discovering who I am
And how I cope.
I don't work with metal;
I don't work with wood.
All I have are my words,
Spoken in 
Hopefully, a poetic way.
I speak and I speak,
But when I write,
In a way,
Nothing gets spoken.
I'm not motivational;
I'm not inspirational,
But as long as I 
Move a wistful soul
From time to time, I'm good.
I'm cold,
Scared,
Confused,
But it seems
I'm running out 
Of time 
And people to talk to.
I want to speak
With my words, but
It seems only my
Ranting of how I'm 
Stuck and lost 
Gets my point across.
I can send your mind
In a spin;
Only because 
I am constantly spinning
With overindulgences 
Such as
Being loved 
And even hated.
I spin from giving,
And, in return, 
Being spun some more.
Puzzles compose
Every metaphor.
Time-
Power-
Love-
Effort-
Trust-
Life in general;
Only, I tend 
To put pieces 
Where they belong,
Then come to discover
That, later, they grow
And start to mesh.
I don't know
If, looking back, 
I'll only see me 
Waisting my time 
Or looking over
What helped me through it.
I couldn't tell you
That everything I cherish
Will be there
Or even here tomorrow.
The ones who understand 
And know more
Of me than I do myself
Are the ones that
Keep me spinning.
So, here is me speaking.
I feel as if 
I'm looking through 
A narrow telescope
That is covered 
On the other end.
I see 
What I choose to see,
But what's that to 
The world?
They don't have the time
To keep up 
Or slow down;
Just
Going their steady pace
Until they find the time 
To waste it.
I wish,
I hope,
I wander,
But no matter
Where I go, 
I only see 
That I'm finding nothing.
My mind
Is tired, 
But my emotions
Are ready to fight.
Bring it on;
I can and
Continue to take your shots.
Take me-
Hold me in your arms
Until I'm safe
And fall asleep...
Maybe when I wake up
I won't be scared, confused,
Torn and lonely.
Maybe I'll wake up and realize
It was a dream and I'm safe
Because you are there.
I'm not great.
I'm not extraordinary,
But you know who I am 
And love me for it.


Details | Free verse | |

I Am Bored With Everyday Chores

There was a naughty girl, and the naughty girl was she

She worked a crossword puzzle, while she had her cup of tea 

        Poured another cup, ......she should get up!
                                      for chores and roll her sleeves

She had much work to do, but her good intentions flew
                                                         like feathers in a breeze

Instead of mops and brooms, she would sing a cheery tune...
      while she danced around the room..

Sudsy dish pans full....but Mother Nature pulled
                                           her to the sunshine for a stroll

        Her bed unmade, her bills unpaid,
        But instead she picked a daisy

Beneath a sunny sky
......she heard the lullaby
                    of the birds that sing on high

        She had meals to cook
                but would rather look
                          at the snowtop hills nearby

So much work undone, and the dinner?......NONE!

But she fed her soul instead!



_______________________
For Linda Marie's Contest "I Am Bored With _______
By Carrie Richards


Details | Free verse | |

Writer's Block

A solitary pencil line,
stretched taught 
on distant snow. 
Cleaves blank sky 
from frozen ground.
Gives hope of where to go.

Accidental thought 
creates a tree I toil towards 
its trembling twigs 
find only that I'm lost
and all about me 
unspoiled virgin white
except the fading words 
from where I've been.


Details | Free verse | |

LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES

LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

the contentment of disheveled twigs
sitting on shoulders of humming trees,
the sunlight wafting shades on meshed nets---
it is before early morning, pale always ever,
pagan and pliant as the swoon 
of winged winds. after all, while village trawlers
tug the day’s haul of buttery clams, 
salmon and weeds,
the river washes its feet unobserved.

even when the hills fondle the peaks
of embossed leaves, there is no time
for human leisure on the streams, not yet. not till
compass’ hours stray too long, tedious, unabated
for folk fishermen to haul the orbed ropes
and slug aquatic baits in exile, washed 
from sea wine that cradles trout’s liberty…

many a time, when evanescent light
envelopes all things tender and sunlight drifts
lotus flowing, rowing; as clouds gather odorless
upon sloping male knees: fishermen become
the fishes darting free, finally tranquil…
content as disheveled  twigs lying
on shoulders of humming trees.


,,,,,,,,……………………………………,,,,,,


© all rights reserved





Details | Free verse | |

Tribute to Linda

Not 
Long 
I 
Know 
this 
'lady' 
This 
lady 
names 
LINDA 
On 
this 
amiable 
platform
Calls 
POETRYSOUP
Not 
Long 
I 
started 
to 
write
On 
this 
platform
And 
not 
long 
I 
was 
Recognised 
as 
one 
of 
the 
distinguished 
being.

On 
whose 
auspices 
did 
I 
know 
about 
my 
worth?
On 
the 
auspices 
of 
the 
popular
Poet 
Destroyer 
A. 

Though 
I 
didn't 
know 
LINDA 
in 
person
And 
I 
am 
not 
sure 
she 
knows 
me 
either
But 
honestly 
speaking 
She 
is 
one 
brilliant 
POETESS
My 
pen 
owes 
Tribute.

Let 
me 
start 
from 
her 
poetry
The 
one 
I 
have 
found 
so 
amazing...
Full 
of 
art, 
full 
of 
love, 
full 
of 
zeal, 
full 
of 
life,
Full 
of 
victory... 
and 
full 
of 
challenges.
And 
talking 
about 
her 
contest 
Therein 
I 
have 
found 
neutrality.
That 
is 
why 
I 
am 
not 
afraid
When 
my 
pen 
choses 
her.

For 
pen 
about 
her 
commentaries
As 
far 
as 
I 
know 
PD. 
has 
been 
the 
widest 
'commentator'
I 
have 
ever 
known 
On 
this 
dignifying 
arena.

Frankly 
speaking
LINDA 
alias 
Poet 
Destroyer 
A
Worth 
my 
rose 
and 
wine
On 
this 
Drama 
Free 
Zone.

Dedicated 
to: 
LINDA, 
Poet 
Destroyer 
A


Details | Free verse | |

My Calling

Reasonings

Too few
Hopefully more

My resentment flairs
My will ebbs
Still looking elsewhere

I won’t just leave
I care too much
My heart is here
Have more to give

Want answers to my whys
Know I’ll never truly know
Doors of opportunity may open
But I still hold hope
Knowing this is my calling


Details | Free verse | |

The Picture Converter

The Picture Converter
Eye was working and making copies of my poems to preserve the text and the 
pictures do not come with the words to rest in folders where eye place the text so 
the very first thing that eye want all the newly wedded student graduates to do is 
make me an internet picture converter that works. Make the picture into the text 
the ED NOTE it was the symbols 

 The Picture Converter 
http://storypen.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?
poemnumber=381095&sitename=charlax&password=&poemoffset=0&displayp
oem=t&item=story 
The Picture Converter 
 
The Picture Converter 
 
  
Eye was working and making copies of my poems to preserve the text and the 
pictures do not come with the words to rest in folders where eye place the text so 
the very first thing that eye want all the newly wedded student graduates to do is 
make me an internet picture converter that works. Make the picture into the text 
the 
OH wow this would not work until eye deleted the symbols in the word document 
The Picture Converter 
Eye was working and making copies of my poems to preserve the text and the 
pictures do not come with the words to rest in folders where eye place the text so 
the very first thing that eye want all the newly wedded student graduates to do is 
make me an internet picture converter that works. Make the picture into the text 
the hay ref and the IMG thing that works so well in all my forums and lay it on the 
right page margin next to all the poem words that eye must save and then when 
eye copy and past this thing again let it emerge as pictures once again to rule the 
poetry page to come back to image land to actually be a picture once again to 
make the poem bleed the picture converter will have an icon of its own please 
feel free to use the charlax one my image is still free eye love the poetry and the 
pictures and the banners just add so much to all the words a little story place a 
little story made a little story gold when poems rule the world only poets will be 
old. 




Details | Free verse | |

I will not be late to work this morning

I will not be late to work today

I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
About gymnasiums
About TAKS 
About sound
About war
Republicans
Democrats
Independents

I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of 
Broken valentines
Strewn against a wooden
Fence 
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase

I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert 
Ready to begin my lesson

I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Or hurt
Where there is no abandonment

What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and 
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the 
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles

I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
Before work

I will not write poetry
Before work
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and 
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving

I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and 
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic

It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
This morning
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything

This poem is over 
the work day begins



Details | Free verse | |

Dynamic Duo


Dynamic Duo 

he was so professional she was so mean he was completely subservient to her 
she was so unclean together they licked the platter clean when money ruled the 
earth it seemed to be a certain fact that people are at lack to have a say when 
money ruled the day the people suffered and cried bread some found in trash the 
poor man cries his cries reminds me of inky flotsam and she was seldom seen 
they rule the inner sanctum as they scream and scream they torture freedom and 
hide the caviar underneath the cavernous pillow they munch on nothing much 
they tweed they maw they fight the ignoramus they eat the bread of queen and 
kingly night repast a fraction of the cost at last a brand new management to bring 
ungodly gain a checkmark and a balancement the answer lies in forty paces forty 
winks the desert beckons the cactus drinks the muck puddle lies with flies and 
flying things to dissipate slowly now in winter grace as angels wing in air. 
 
           
 
 
 Dynamic Duo 
 


Details | Free verse | |

Elevators: 5 Horsemen

Part 1

Onion

the delicacy of friendship

I found you in the flowers
Standing tall we become one
Looking down from gangly towers
Squash, you burn, you pillage, son.

Follow me you say in tongues
Thy shallow mind reveal me tell
Whisper lies clean load the guns
I feel the burn I rot in hell

Friend folly menacing the liar
I loathe this coffin how it leaks
Dear foe you raped me set on fire
The onion peal itself and weeps

Part 2

Traitor

dear monkey boy

Older eyes eat themselves,
glance and kill the other
Unified in the dance,
they steer the musty rudder.

Pained and sweeter deeper wells,
poised buckets drunk with water.
Singled out the one that dried,
handed weights to pull him under.

Wiser times capture the mind,
death justifies dishonor.
Knife slice neat through the devil's back,
who stares blank and milks the udder.

Part 3

Tempest

patron saint

Inside this box
Goodbye tempestuous fall
My puppet of steel coiled thread
Smashed buttons and twisted dread,
Alarm these doors, and
Escape this delusive bunker bed

Stamp the spiders
Thief, vulture of the deflection
The mocking patron of the sinners
Erase this affliction
Relating inward at the reflection

Rise you fool

Part 4

Phoenix

i love you

close the grip
cinched hematic grip
drenched, clawing
seeking the sheave
becoming the counterweight

i absorb, now
extracting the heat
rise like a phoenix
away to be gone to be free
fix me! i have fixed me

i am alive and i love you

Part 5

Aye, Damager

Abolish her state of disrepair
Scattered, spattered drippy thoughts
All around this box of soused leaves
Soak, ferment in the faith of our love

I can't fix this, you know
I loathe this misunderstanding
Of what I am speaking, projecting
To me, Aye Damager, to you

This devil in me
turned and twisted
A wrecked elevator in rejection
Years locked painfully aware

...


Details | Free verse | |

Teacher

Why, why, why? Is all I ask
Do you send these folk my way
There not the ones I'd choose myself
But I attract within hooray
You must have plans to work me Lord
Have I really gone astray

I try so hard to be polite
You send me those who groan
From trials of life
Crying painful body drones
But I face a war continually Lord
Spine crumbling pained bones

I questioned much over the years
Of those you sent my way
But each one has had effect on me
What will I have learned today
I want to tell of things you've done
And why I've learnt to pray

You sent me counseling to help
Through things wrong in my youth
Then church fellowship did help me through
When marriage went down sluice
A teacher friend taught me much
In assertiveness and truth

You sent me someone kind and true
When I'd thought life was gone
A friend of a friend a neighbors brother
Turned out to be the  one
Who'd bring me home and settle again
Protect me and my two sons

You showed me work where I did learn
The skills to pull me through
In kitchens I did learn to cook
In schools help my children too
The staff within were pillars and rocks
In illness helped me do

You send others now to my house
Now I can't go out all alone
I used to sit and ponder sorry
I couldn't do things on my own
But now I have found new waters
I can swim and write a poem

I help others through my charity support
When I can get to phone
I can help in ways that others cant
And control load with able zone
I listen to those there struggling
Look at positives not moan

So I'm thankful for those folk you sent
Though I don't understand your process
But each time one has helped me to 
Understand and cope it's noticed
So send someone to help I'll pray
And I'll listen as perfect hostess




Author's notes

Okay, so I realize as it stands it needs tweaking, but at the time the pen flowed and now it 
needs some TLC... any ideas welcome, although I do not want to detract from the 
meaning/depth.  Any idea of rhyme was not originally intentional so please forgive I know at 
present its dreadful!! Help please?


Details | Free verse | |

Friday

Friday a day full of joy
For each working girl and boy
No alarm to be set for tomorrow
Pajamas all day is what we shall wear
Not a care in the world not even one sorrow
Free to roam and explore full of elation
No need to reflect on the week’s agitation
Oh Friday, oh Friday you are here to excite
You bring on the weekend ever so bright
We love you so much and all your delights
We know when you're here all is just right.


Details | Free verse | |

Talking to Empty Cubicles

At 
gray fabric offices,
cubicles divide us—
turn us into
refuges
with mock privacy,
as overheard conversations
drip from lips
endlessly smacking.

Sometimes
it seems insanity
squared—
nothingness 
randomly speaking
in tongues
to cubicles
with no one there.

We 
thumb tack
individuality
loosely
to coarse fabrics—
arms stretched out
from wall to wall,
as mouths open
to mirrored
silences 
we never 
scream.


Details | Free verse | |

The Visitor

fleeting is its brief arrival
temporary is its stay
in one hand and 
out the other
watching 
it go by

a compensatory stranger
in an instant unseen
never lasting but
for a moment
enough to
believe 

work’s dour taskmaster
ever newly minted
not at all miserly
a spendthrift’s
momentary
friend

life’s transitory sojourner 
a runaway passerby
an acquaintance
forever sought
yet rarely 
known

mesmerizing is this visitor
as its simple request 
is always to be 
squandered
yet never 
owned


© Eugene Harvey



Details | Free verse | |

Plant Tale

That lone ornamental plant,
that stood straight,
with colored shiny leaves,
had its own story to relate,
it was brought in infancy,
to the office,
to decorate and tickle fancy,
it was an eye soothe,
amongst dead office wood eye sores,
and people who were alive,
but wanted others dead,
plant was innocent,
and had not thought so in the start days,
but had gathered that over each passing day,
he had a secret to reveal,
that people came to office,
not to work,
but to work down others,
they were jealous and egoists,
they spoke lies and spoke bad of others,
most of the time they did that,
only a little was left,
for the work for which they were paid for,
life of the plant was spent thus,
he became tired and almost dead,
he knew these evil people,
would throw him out one day,
and that they did,
but he was happy,
that he was free,
of evil and bad.


Details | Free verse | |

CREATION IS THE WORK OF THE ETERNAL

Things shrouded in mystery
are quickly discarded
and simply not believed;
this false-hood staggers me
and others unjustifying them...
While knowledge increases,
faith,once invincible,decreases...
with only few to defend it!

Creation is the work of the Eternal,
everything testifies to that;
convinctions should be concrete,
not implausible and superficial...
They should be credible enough
to attribute it to His almighty hand   
and anyone disapproving it,
denies it...by calling it  a myth!

O world so careless and rebellious...
indulging in sin without remorse,
you refuse to believe in a real God
who doesn't hide from anybody who seeks Him;
and He can end anguish and shame!
O world so preoccupied with wealth and galore,
this madness can cause you more harm than good;
He who created you has greater plans in store!

Creation is the work of the Eternal,
the entire Universe will be yours to explore;
and you'll be given dominion over it always...
and if angels are higher than you...fear not,
because you'll be rule over them...God
has predestined you to greatness!  

O world so merciless and intolerant of fairness,
break free of deception and selfishness,
there are no planets more beautiful than this,
the Earth was given to Man for freedom and bliss!


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Free verse | |

Rebuilding the Shed in the Backyard - Again

My son is out fixing up the shed.
Winter is coming on. Needed doing he said.
He had the time and the bound-to’s.
I’m not used to this thought process, I’m not. Not from a child.

I watch him for a while.
Opening and closing gates as needed.
The dust, sifted into powder from summer’s heat, poof’s with his steps.
The heels of his jeans dragging strings on the ground, erase the tread of his 
boots.

The shed is old. There is algae or lichen on the north side boards,
where the wood is splintery gray.
Some of the lichen florets are the color of sage, some the color of a bright orange 
rust,
Circled with gray ones and black, their life cycle played out.

He hammers nails and screws in screws while holding boards in place.
Sweat glistening where skin is exposed, making long dark stains in his black 
shirt.
Veins standing out against the strain, and
Muscles laboring to prove he can do the job well, without a mother’s help.

While he works I think about his father and how differently they work.
His father preferring team work and orchestrated smooth motion
working side by side, no extra movements – and he whistled.
My son needs to prove his skills first – alone.

The shed is done and it will brave another winter, keeping the horses sheltered 
from the elements.
The wind, snow and horses milling about, will obliterate the trail of pant cuffs, 
Along with the memory of one cool day at the end of summer, 
When a man worked hard to rebuild their shelter.


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Free verse | |

Slave to the Job

Vampires suck, they drain my life
it feels like that in this god damn place
A pound of flesh I'm sure they'll take
but even then they won't be full
not satisfied until
I'm worn and I'm weary
they chip chip chip away
then I'm nothing but a shell
I wish I could enjoy this time
on the short path to the inevitable
A pension not too far off for some years of frailty
but what's the point shall I give up now
to stop the pain of being a zombie
I'll carry on because I'm programmed to
but the vultures, the leeches and parasites continue
to bleed me for my life


Details | Free verse | |

My Boredom Disease

Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 


Details | Free verse | |

Rewards of College Education

in grade school
he heard about it

in high school
he prepared for it

in his first year
he explored it

in his second year
he focused on it

in his third year
he felt part of it

in his fourth year
he graduated from it

Now, he has a job
because of it.


Details | Free verse | |

quadratic

minus b

plus or minus root(b squared

minus four times a times c) — all above divided

by two times a — this is the quadratic formula and is absolutely correct