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Life Work Poems | Life Poems About Work

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

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Details | Cowboy | |

Hard Times

When hard times come they sit a spell, Like kin folk come to stay A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids That always get ‘n your way. It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought, There ain't much in-between. You work like hell to make ’em good, But still they’re sorta lean. The ranch went under late last year, The drought got mighty tough. The boss held-out a long, long time, But finally said, "enough!" So here I am dispatchin’ cops An’ watchin’ felons sleep, In Junction, at the county jail, A job I’ll prob’ly keep. The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge, Where older people stay, A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors To earn some ‘extra’ pay. Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used, It goes to payin’ rent, An’ after all the bills are paid, We wonder where it went. We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps, An' then our weddin' rings; Then when we couldn't pay the loan, They sold the 'dad-blamed' things. We felt real bad a day or two But then we let it go, Cause it got Christmas for the kids When money got real slow. When hard times come they sit a spell, Don't matter who you are; They'll cost ya things you've set aside, An' clean your cookie jar. You'll loose some sleep an' worry some, Won't pay to moan an' groan; But hang on to your happiness, They'll finally leave ya 'lone.


Details | Free verse | |

Hard Work

Laughter drifts through the house, ....it has been such a while
Debate filters in, from the kids in the kitchen
The rafters are rattled with two strong opinions
Girls against boys, with opposing positions
I've watched them shuffle their cards and argue who won,
They seem to be lost, in the light masquerade,
of bittersweet happiness that is dim from the gray

Dipping their chips into onion laced cream
smacking their lips, and drinking their cokes
They are betting a few of the red plastic discs,
that will ante' this round 

...I listen, and smile, it's a beautiful sound, ...
   So long overdue,.......
                     we are embracing the mood... and it is time that we do....

Now a new game ensues.....
Monopoly, perhaps? Or charades, they will play
Whatever it is, ........ let it fill up the day
                                Let it take them away,....away from the gray

I let up the shade
to watch the evening come in,  bringing umber and rust,
as earth swallows dusk, which is fading away

From the living room window, I am hoping to see 
geese flying back to their warm winter homes
All nature seems normal, routine, once again

Winter is coming and a new year begins
How will it be now, this journey, untried,?
As we move on, wearing smiles, wearing grief on our sleeves
Smiles, for awhile, hiding anguish, and pride

Cold days are arriving......and there is talk on the hill 
where tall pine trees are whispering, 
reminding the creek, and the ash trees are shedding
and katydids will not call out condolences in the dark

Soon enough, when the lark sings,  wet grass will need tending
stacks of shutters will need painting,
and snow will yet need to be pushed aside

How will they cope..?
He's not here to do it...but somehow we hope
they will wade their way through it..

But for now , at a kitchen table
for these brief moments, they are able
to laugh, argue, and have fun...
                       Someone shouts out,  "I won!"..

Joy is hard work...but it needs to be done 




_________________________________________________________


Details | Verse | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | Rhyme | |

Keep It Turnin' to the Right

Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
 
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
December seventeenth, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
 
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched out fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
 
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; keep it turnin' to the right

Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"

Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain

On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right

The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues

Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."

Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many politicians and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."

Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song

"We all eat caliche and drink the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and skunk him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right

We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"

The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse

"We p*ss longneck Lone Stars; we f*rt Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"

8/10/2012
Coal mining, oil drilling and Hell - Doesn't get much darker and deeper...


Details | Rhyme | |

My Chair of Support

My favourite chair
Said to me one night
Hey! Highlander
What you going to write
 
Is it going to be a fantasy
A Haiku or a Senyru
What ever comes from your thoughts
It's from the inner you
 
I have supported and rested 
While you have written your writes
From many an afternoon
Into the early morning light
 
You never get frustrated
You just sit and ponder
For you know there are words
They are just out yonder
 
This partnership we have
Will remain as close as ever
Until the end of our days
Will be the time to sever
 
We will continue to be
One and the same
I to support you
With poetry your aim


My entry into Matt Caliri's contest " Speak chair! Speak! "



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-2.php


Details | Rhyme | |

Where did my life go

Where did my life go ?
 
Oh, how I would like my life back !
It seems the fabric of time has developed a crack,
and through it, I seem to be falling.
Every day, work, work keeps on calling
and my days melt, one into the other,
no time to do all I must cover.
 
Hours are so few
For all I have to do.
Very little to remember of this one’s day
For they are all the same. 
No longer a life, no time for play !
Work, work, work is the frame
of reference, routine of little variation
is my life, sometimes a little creation.
 
This is where my life has gone !
Work, work, work and nothing beyond.
it has penetrated, permeated my dreams.
Work, work, work, no escape it seems ? 

B. J. “A” 2
June 3rd 2012


Details | Etheree | |

Cash Gone in Tax

Cash
Slashed by
Uncle Sam
Hard earned wages
Burned as income tax
Cash gone like blowing wind
Tax is not like sweet vermouth
This is just like pulling hen’s tooth
Tax going up, paycheck going down
Tax man leave us alone—we need a break!

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

Won Honorable Mention
Etheree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietirch
June 20, 2010

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~


Details | Burlesque | |

Exotic Dancer

Do people think you are sleazy and bad,
since the day you replied to that want ad?
The words were in black and white, and plain.
“No Experience Necessary, We Train”.
This job is not what most women would like to get,
However, it pays the bills and keeps you out of debt.
You live in a nice house, and drive a Corvette.
Of all the occupations anyone can seek,
there are not too many paying two grand a week.
They hired you for what came naturally.
Men easily discover your great beauty.
You have the looks of a centerfold in a magazine.
Your dancing in the club makes quite a scene.

A fight with your old man made him pack and go away.
He left you and your child unexpectedly one day.
You were desperate and needed a job right away.
It seems nobody was impressed with your resume.
Other employers apparently could not be convinced.
So many places only wanted experienced.

When you are dancing in the club each night,
men from all over think you are a delight.
Scantily clad, you erotically tease.
This is how you gather your gratuities.
Some men get obnoxious, and a bit out of hand.
Enforcers appear to take a stand.
A small team of bouncers comes out to greet.
The mashers land in the middle of the street.
Never mind what people think is wrong or right.
Many men like me will be seeing you tonight.


Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees


(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Irresponsibility Day

5:11am
I wake up to my TV blasting episodes of Woody Woodpecker.

I wipe my encrusted eyes, which had a field day in that dream I had
Involving two Swedish women, a Latin princess
With curvaceous hips that could save me if I ever fell from mountain climbing,
A Sony boom box made in 1984 playing Duran Duran,
And empty boxes of Junior Mints, M&M Peanuts, & Cool Whip.

I walk to my front door to discover hundreds of blood lettered Post-It notes
Slid under by my friendly Mafia neighbors, 
“Turn that crap down or say ‘HOLA’ to my little friend! Woody sucks! ”

5:45am:
So, instead of apologizing, I grabbed my power drill
Which I bought off this Mexican guy named Bob
Standing in front of my local Home Depot,

I thanked each of my neighbors by drilling Wal-Mart smiley faces
Smoking Cuban cigars & holding Shotguns
Into their doors

At this point, I popped in some Belgian waffles & French Toast sticks
Into my Cookie Monster toaster oven and turned on the news.

What was I thinking?!

News reports on Sugar Daddies being harassed by stalking gold-diggers,
Another asinine Final Destination movie,
More teacher-student scandals,
Celebrity break-ups & pregnancies
Oh, how the sheep live vicariously through them

Where’s that damn noose I bought off Bob?!

610am:
To remove my early morning frustrations,
I turned on my Xbox 360 and popped in Guitar Hero
In which I jammed out to Stevie Wonder’s Superstitious
While performing Riverdance on my hardwood floor

The neighbors below me added a nice, rhythmic sound with their broomsticks.

7am:
After my Pilates workout, I decided to strip off my clothes
So I can feel FREE like a Tree-hugging barn swallow
And fill my bathtub with a bottle of Tickle Me Elmo Bubble Bath liquid,
Which I also bought off Bob

Shortly after, I yelled “THIS IS SPARTA!” and performed a belly flop into the tub…

2pm:
After waking up from my concussion, I laughed maniacally
With my face underwater
My laughs were heard through the popping bubbles rising to water’s surface

I passed out again with a drumming thud against my porcelain dreams.

7pm:
Second attempt at recovery, SUCCESS!

I gathered all my utility bills
A filled, plastic gas tank, another purchase from Bob
And a Jerry Garcia branded lighter

As inferno warmed my screaming loins,
Blasting John Lennon’s “Imagine” on my 8-Track,
The local Fire department sliced my front door
With titanium axe and an inscription: “Here’s Johnny”

As hundreds of angry firemen & neighbors stampede into my child-like day

*CLICK*

3pm, Day Unknown:
I awaken with lines imprinted on my Latin cheeks
From wooden office desk
Strange stares from coworkers
With “I’m all out of Love” playing on the faded, company radio

And a post-it note, “Come see me in my office”,
From Bob

©Drake J. Eszes


Details | Rhyme | |

THE AGING PROCESS

Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.

Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.

Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.

Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?

Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.

The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.

The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.

Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.

Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.

Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.


Details | Rhyme | |

Modern Life

Modern Life
We are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
Except Monday mornings and Sunday nights.
What are they on about, at this place that I seek
That is supposed open 24/7 days a week.

The pub is open we have an unlimited license,
Let’s have a drink before we go to bed!
I’m sorry we are closed the doors shut at eleven
That’s what the snooty landlord then said.

The helpline is here no matter when 
Give us a call and we can help you then.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, the phone rings on
A tape recording says, “Sorry everyone has gone.”

My car has broken down the man came to fix it
“It doesn’t work” he said sratching his head.
“There a computer on board and I will need to record
All the things that are broken down” he said.

But I need my car; I looked at him hard, 
And he gave me a wizened up frown.
He plugged himself in, then said with a grin.
The computer says it’s fine, the engine is strong.

But the car doesn’t work you toothless little jerk, 
The computer plugged in must be wrong.
“How can it be wrong it says the engine is strong?” he gave me a shifty look
“To be honest missus if it ain’t on the pute, perhaps the answers in a book."

He could find nothing wrong, the onboard computer gave a bong,
But it still said all was okay.
The tow-truck they called out with its ramp and its chains
Now they have taken my poor car away.

Modern life is so frustrating; we have everything at our fingertips
There is 24/7 that does not mean that, and fury does exit my lips.
If its 24/7 and help lines constantly, a car that is run by computer.
Why doesn’t anything work, I feel like the jerk, can somebody lend me a shooter.

I want to blast and to break all technology of late
It’s driving me to drink and distraction
The open all hours pubs are now closed, 
And my car is still out of action.

The bank is closed, the computers just died, 
The telephones gone on the blink
The TV HD, it is fuzzy like me;
I think I’m going to put my head in the sink.

The oven would be better, but its electric not gas
So I don’t think it would work as well
I want to end it all, not practice for the day,
The Grim-Reaper points at me, and sends me to hell.

Therefore, I’ll fill up the sink and put my head in the drink, 
Oh, blast, who is that at the door?
It’s the water board here, we are just making it clear,your water is off for a week.
Typical, I have no car and it is too far
To walk out and jump in the creek.



Details | I do not know? | |

TROUBLES AND WOES

Hiberty jiberty liberty lox.
Quivery livery shivery shin.
Naughty Pandora opened the box
And couldn't get all of the troubles back in.
                                                  
Oh, briars of evil and nettles of sin.
Gaggles of sorrow, and worries in flocks.
Quivery livery shivery shin,
Hiberty jiberty liberty lox. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Open Communique to the Rogues

To the seedlings sprouting in the 8 corners of the world:



An open communique can lead towards a perilous precipice overlooking jagged rocks being pounded by the relentless waves of a cold, apathetic ocean -- in such a circumstance, it doesn't take much to slip, to be pushed, to be sent over the edge, shattering upon the rocks below, sucked down by an undertow erasing all evidence of your prior existence. We have come to an impasse, the windows of opportunity in the jet-streams of change, are passing by at astounding speeds. A true Anarchist is not a Terrorist; leave such decrepit despondency to ultra-fanatic zealots and the New Gestapo. A true Anarchist should not fight for lawlessness, should not wish for chaotic, wanton destruction - such myths are propagated by automatons and the controllers themselves. A true Anarchist should not raise placards in protest, should not spray-paint graffiti upon the walls of gaudy Bauhaus replications, nor lob Molotov cocktails at an establishment so entrenched, four heads grow back to replace every head, decapitated. A true Anarchist dons a masque of mirages, reflecting nationalism, consumerism and Swastikas back into the eyes of the pushers. A true Anarchist does so by donning the uniforms of business districts, of the worker, of the paint-splattered, ink-stained artisan. When a true Anarchist gains the confidence and trust of Drones left in charge of oiling the cogs, a true Anarchist enters the control-room not to smash instruments, but instead, turns dials, flicks switches, presses buttons, re-writes programs and codes, in order to help alter the directional course of the very Beast itself. 11.21.2012 .


Details | Acrostic | |

Pisces


Pedantry, oh pedantry, is not what you think I do most
I, the escapist, oft twitch at night to catch the star’s wink
Sympathetic, gentle, faithful...and yes, sexually delicate
Combined with gifts, like in arts, is what I am, but I am
Easily misled by my love(r); still, I hate those who’ve no 
Sense of structure, or those who’ve no goal to swim afar


Details | Light Poetry | |

An old man's crumbles

An old man's crumbles........ I am an old man and no matter I say or do. But still I am living with my stubbornness heart I have complications with health history and hospitals always welcome me Sometime, my heart beats so hard and my veins are twisting me mad But still I manage to do my work on my own My walking stick is great support for me If not, I would not able to stand on the road Sleep brings me nightmares with forecast scenarios but when I wake up in the morning I feel nothing but freezing body and feet My memory is failing and my soul is falling My head is turning and my life is shortening How do I spent my youthful life all these days? Well, nothing much to tell about it because I am not married either. I really love to recollect my good old days but my memory of tears kept them away Youth become major and old become gold. So they say But sometimes I wonder where do I find my way around Before I go to bed, I keep my ears in the drawer, my teeth in a glass of water and my both eyes on the side table When my sleep overtakes me, I don't hear anything, my teeth don't feel cold and I don't see anything either I get up each morning and reset my bones from my sleepy body Later I pick up the news paper to read world news and sad news these days If my name is missing in the obituary column, thanks God I am not dead So I continue to do my work as usual till the day ends. Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka Copyright @Sept,2010 Ravi Sathasivam


Details | Villanelle | |

The Mission Trip To Please

On mission trip overseas
At least one week will do
Hold babies gently squeeze

Whether in cold where freeze
In rain forest where view 
On mission trip overseas

My hearts desire will please
Feed hungry babies stew
Hold babies gently squeeze

Give up my life of ease
Place on feet needed shoes
On mission trip overseas

Help babies who cough wheeze
For mothers good tea brew
Hold babies gently squeeze

Perfect week just do these
Open heart my love grew
On mission trip overseas
Hold babies gently squeeze


Details | I do not know? | |

My_True_Identity.sas

Data Birth;
 INFILE 'C\Fathersperm\Motheregg\9_months\The_One_Of_Shadows.txt';
 INPUT FNAME = 'Yoni'
          LNAME = 'Dvorkis';
    Var Hidden_Meaning = "SAS code is not meant to be poetry you nut job";
Run; 

Data Child;
 Set Birth;
    Where Age >= 4; 
    Var Worldview = Parents_Worldview; 
    Var Facial_Expression = compress('Fear'||'Bewilderment'||'Jews believe in guilt');
Run;

Data Teenager;
 Set Child (Drop= Innocence, Baby_Fat, Cheerful_Disposition);
    Where Age >= 15 and BAC_Level >= .01;
    Var Worldview = (Peer_Pressure * 100) + Favorite_Teacher_Worldview
                            - Parents_Worldview;
    Var Hidden_Meaning = "Where are you going with this?";
Run;

Data Adult;
 Set Teenager (Keep= Anger, Intelligence, Need_For_Material_Wealth, Hatred_Towards_Body
                     Drop= A_Sense_Of_Security_In_An_Unforgiving_World);
    Var Job_That_Slowly_Kills_You = "Healthcare Data Analyst and SAS Programmer";
    Var Worldview = (Company_Mission_Statement + Family_Is_Most_Important) 
                             / Screw_Everyone_Else_I_Have_My_Own_Problems;
    Where Age >= 21 and BAC_Level >= .15;
         If Yearly_Salary >= 100,000 then 
             Self_Esteem = "Now I'm worth something!!";
         Else if 50,000 <= Yearly_Salary < 100,000 then 
             Self_Esteem = "I guess I should count myself lucky...";
         Else if Yearly_Salary < 50,000 then 
             Self_Esteem =  ______;
    Var Hidden_Meaning = "Jeez, you're really laying it on thick with the salary stuff";
Run;

Data Old_Man;
 Set Adult;
     Where Age >= 65 and Yearly_Salary = "Whatever's left of Social Security"; 
     Var Cynical_Being = 
              (Why_Did_It_Have_To_End_Like_This  *  Years_Hiding_In_Plain_Sight )
                                            - The_Will_To_Keep_Going;
Run; 

Proc sort data = Old_Man out = Old_Man_On_Deathbed nodupkey;
 By What_This_All_Meant_To_Me;
Run;

Data My_True_Identity;
 Merge Old_Man_On_Deathbed (in = a)  God  (in = b);
 By _all_;
 If b and not a;
Run;


Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Quatrain | |

The Pirate's Life for Me

I starts me life as pirate, 
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.

With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.

Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.

Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.

Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.

Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.

One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.

Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight! 
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!

© July 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


Details | Couplet | |

2012 resolution Vol 3

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.


Details | Haiku | |

Prisoner of fate

Jobless, indebted -
battles with insanity 
- writes haiku shaiku


Details | Verse | |

The Canvas

This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do 
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."

Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream Of a picture whose tone, texture and style Would have made this work worth all the while Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty Of a person who lived his life and did his duty Of a person who lived life the way it should be Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.


Details | Concrete | |

The Barn

.    It mars the sage, erect and proud
     Beneath a hood of purple clouds...                                
     Old weathered barn shares windswept grounds               
     With shadows deep and somber sounds            
                                                                                             
     These old remains of dust and brown                                
     From long ago, will stand alone                                           ###  
     Strong arms would hoist, and fit the beams,                          #######
     With rough sawn timbers, small window panes                    #######
     A living thing, of weathered wood                           ####
     It leans with age in prairie wind                                /    /
     Softly gray in the late-day sun                                               / /
                                                                                       /    /
     A monument of nail and boards                     
     Once sheltered pride,  the sheep, the hordes                      /  /
     While men would plow and turn the fields                  
     To scatter  seeds      ^   in parchment plains                /
                                 N-l-S
                                    l
Prayed for  ////////////////////////////// rain                              
To quench /////////////////////////////      the grain
A storage  //////////////////////////// __   for the wheat and corn
A cover, too                                   lxxl     when lambs were born                           
A precious                                   """"""      crop kept safe and dry
But soon               _________                the seasons passed it by
A  place                  l  X l X   l                 for those who worked the soil
The  soul,                l  X l  X  l                 the barn, the shrine of toil
The heart_________l..X.l..X..l________  this pride of home and farm             
       Where now only wind whistles through the eaves, 
       And bats and mice find a place to live
       Abandoned and forsaken, a new age awakened
       While gaunt hills stand silently by
       Day after day under the prairie sky
       This monument that is left alone to die...


_______________________________________________________________________


Details | Rhyme | |

Underground

Down in the dark
where we live and we breathe.
in a place where most,

could never believe.
Through the smoke and the dust
by our blood and the rust.
Hear the clanging of steel
and in your chest you can feel.
the rumbling of the ground
with it's menacing sound
for where no one has been
is where our treasures be found.

We truck and we toil
we muck and we moil.
May our luck it be royal
and not leave us

stuck in the soil.

For the path that we walk
which leaves us unseen
tucked far away
down in some machine.
Isolated from all
and free at our most
but not free at all
for the shadow
is always close.

Stalking and waiting
for mistakes you'll be making.
It's grip near your neck
reaching for a wreck

But you must be better
and play your cards right.
If you're gonna forever
live where it's night
and on the top of your head
is your one light
and your only chance,
to win this fight

So when the blast sounds off
and you can't chase that cough
when it's strange to see no dirt under your nails
and you no longer care,

for telling tales

Get yourself some sleep,
you'll be up with the sun.
Cause tomorrow.
There's much more work to be done.


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to the Lineman

Pulled himself to the very top 
Looked over the world on high 
Felt the warm and stirring breeze 
falling from the sky 
Knowing this was how it felt 
to soar above the land 
To feel so safe away from things 
so free to be alive 
Yet down the pole we all must come 
to touch the very ground 
This is where we laugh and play
gives us what we need 
The loving smile of a young girl's face 
a women's tender care 
For up above the pole to fly 
is nothing but the air 
But on the soil we grow and live 
to reach out, to touch, to give 
So keep your feet upon the ground 
take a good long look around 
and see if flying above the pole 
isn't like living in a hole 
from where you never see  
the reaching hands pulling you down 
pulling you down to be


Details | Ode | |

To Believe or Not To Believe: The Power of Unbelief

your belief system is the major indication
of what you can accomplish with positive validation
if you can see it, you can achieve
if you can perceive it, you can believe it

underachievers are always underestimating themselves
non-achievers are always looking for a handout and the most help
average achievers do only what is usually just required
but overachievers strive to realize their heart's desire

in The Bible Mark 6:5-6 are two of the saddest scriptures to me
it tells of the time when Jesus went to His birth place
to spread His Father's ministry
it is somewhat troubling to me when He could find there no relief
because the Nazarenes were in a mind set of utter unbelief
even though He had worked many miracles
in most every town he had ventured to
the citizens of Nazareth were unwilling to give Him His proper due
a showdown in Nazareth, Jesus trying to evangelize God's word
but they saw Him only as the carpenter's son attempting to do the absurd

the power of God can only manifest in an arena of positivity
it can not gown nor gravitate in an atmosphere of negativity
Jesus was rendered powerless, the passion in Him had subsided
because the unbelieving Nazarenes remained unyielding 
and completely one-sided

there is a significant amount of unbelief
in many church congregations
where some are just sayers of the Word
and don't believe in the power of the consecration
it takes one drop of negativity
to yield a whole crop of unbelieveability
understand that the Living God can't work in anyone's life
if they are in a state of mind clouded by negativity and strife
there is nothing that can't be accomplished if you know this in your heart
that God can work miracles just believe in His powers from the start
for God can move mountains, He can make a river divide
His powers are omnipotent, just keep a positive attitude in mind

don't undermine God's purpose for you life, allow Him some control
don't underestimate what He can do for you, if you surrender to Him your soul
always look for the victory, don't settle for defeat or loss
use the power of your belief, the power of the blood, the crown and the cross

if you believe God can open doors
what more could you ask for
just believe with God that you can do it
just trust in Him and let Him prove it
just believe in the power that is Jesus Christ
and imagine what you can accomplish
if you just let Him work in your life






Details | Quatrain | |

THE AUTHORITY

Why can't she learn to do that right?
You'd think that she'd know better.
Someone should tell her what to do,
To hone her each endeaver.

What is he doing over there?
He should be over here.
He should be told where he belongs,
And make it very clear.

She never does as she is told,
Although I've tried and tried;
What she should do and how and when,
I took it all in stride.

I spoke to her, I spoke to them,
To bring her back in line;
But she is stubborn, wants her way,
But she will learn in time,

That I am right and she is wrong,
I'll teach her that I know,
Much more about her work than she,
I'll tell her where to go.

It seems my help and good advice,
Is just ignored and spurned.
I only want the best for all,
The best for all concerned.

I guess my help's unwanted,
But if 'twere put to test,
They all would see that I am right,
And my way is the best.



No matter where you go or what you do you're going to find some people in the world who think they know more about eveything than anyone else and they will do their best to force their opinion on everyone they come in contact with. Th ebest way to handle someone like this is to give them a wide berth. Stay aloof but friendly in a distant sort of way. However, don't hesitate to let them know you cannot and will not be bulllied because this type of person capitalizes on your weakness. Whenever they start something with you it's important to make sure everyone knows exactly what was said and done when it happens so you don't end up looking the fool instead of them. When they find out that instead of keeping quiet you will fight back using their own methods against them they will back off and leave you alone.


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 | Lyric | |

In His Arms

In his arms

In His Arms you bury your head into his chest and release tears of anguish fury and disbelief.
Gently he caresses your back and says those four little words you were longing to hear. Not "Everything will be alright" But "I'll make everything better" and at that moment a ton of burden is lifted from your chest and into his hands, but to him feel as light as a feather. Trust is elevated and at most high because hearing those words from his honey thick voice makes it ooze from his skin. Unknowingly you find out not only does he sympathize but he empathizes because once in his life not only has he felt the same way, but you'd once said those same words and lifted a similar burden from his body reassuring you of his motives of loving you.

His arms wear scars from childhood, hard work and labor, to him they're not appealing, to you they're a work of art. It should be part of the suffix ology because you've study every detail of his skin, down to the six beauty marks and a tiny recent cut on his left leg right below his knee.

Those arms scream protection when they're around you. Not just physical protection but protection from what the world thinks of you. In those arms there's no judgment, in those arms there's no need to be perfect, contradicting his kind hold on you, in his arms you are liberated.

Just longing to be in his arms

.