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Work Death Poems | Death Poems About Work

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

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 | Bio | |

Maurice Glenn Turner and Randy Thompson: Fallen Heroes

Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.


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 | Epithalamium | |

Eulogy for Wangari Maathai


Wangari Maathai is not dead 
I roll back my tear
Peer from my window
Deep the grooming forest

Switch off my radio
Tear the headline
I refuse the epitaph
I write no word

Her monument must sprout 
Beyond the canopy
She died to defend

Let Wangari not die
Mother of mother nature
Where she lives!


Details | Narrative | |

Marla

Marla was a friend of mine I knew from working at UTMB Over 10 years we worked together In the department of pathology Though we actually worked In two different locations there We still became pretty good friends Leaving me memories of times we shared Besides her friendship with me To all, Marla was very helpful She knew her job exceptionally well And was always professional Our department felt confident As we knew Marla was the one To work in an accurate manner And get any task completely done Marla attended a few SSP luncheons We would both go there to meet She came as my guest a few times And we would save each other a seat I’ll carry the memories of Marla With me throughout my living years I know that when it’s my time to go She’ll be saving a good seat for me up there Florence McMillian (Flo)


Details | Pantoum | |

In Her Teen

We know her future could be bright
If not for death that snatched her dream
She was the queen among her mates
The few she left here said it all

If not for death that snatched her dream
While on earth she nurtured the best
The few she left here said it all
A jewel worth many to pens

While on earth she nurtured the best
She was the queen of her mates
The few she left here said it all
We know her future could be bright


Details | Pastoral | |

Seeking The Registrar

        ************

A lie slowly becomes' Mercy
As the truth suddenly becomes'
   Crystal clear,
           However,
There comes' a time where
Life has equated itself with Death
          -----------
           And yet,
The implications' so unclear
           -----------
And then death has made off
With it's own consumption
           Of Will
            -----------l
As it breaches' it's own
     Confidence inundate....
And has blended it's own 
           Way threw...
As We seek the resound
Sound know as the "Registrar"
He make's Legions' of me and you
               --------------
When we do appear before him
Fore He is far beyond man
      So repetitiously clear
He makes' short work of perdition
  In the deliverance of all man
               --------------
And He delivers' sanity soulfully at will
      It is the "Just" among man
               -------------
Then in a chasm like appurtenance
   It becomes Evil Incorporate
             Evil on demand
              -------------
     He then reveals' himself
               -For-
He is but a creation threw time
      He brings superstition
He play's with the mind
And this He has been doing
   Since the beginning
         Of time

                          GF


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Rain and Wind

The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.  
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.








Details | Free verse | |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Ode | |

An Ode To A Dead Apple

Ode To A Dead Apple
Oh poor Dan what can we say
He’s had such bad news delivered today
His Apple Mac that’s virus free
As expensive and speedy as can be.
To do your work is such a breeze 
Bug free it does not catch a sneeze
But what the Apple people did not do
Was protect it from the likes of you
Your Apple Mac that you so love
Is put to rest and looks down from above.
The death of your Mac is hard to take
Don’t do anything stupid for goodness sake
It was tired with all the work you do
And sleepy just like De and you
But listen to some advice that’s free
Never give it any more coffee or tea.
© 21/06/2102~GG~

To my poor Nephew that has spilled a mug of Coffee and Killed his Mac


Details | Free verse | |

They're Watching You

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
check out the daily news.

Henchmen rob bank,
two officers killed,
change channel.

Reality T.V.
a celebraity stumbling out of a club,
drunk as hell.

Change channel,
a gay couple buying a house,
in a white collar neighborhood.

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
even when you don't know it.

Someone is always watching you.
Take out the trash,
wash the dishes.

Watching,
survalling,
like a camera.

Terrorists,
they're always watching you,
Politians always watching you.

School teachers,
police,
FBI and CIA
Always watching you.

Smile for the camera
they're watching
so just wave and smile.

Bullies on playground jungle-gyms
looking out for the ugly nerd,
found him.

Hiding under the woodchips,
get him, beat him up,
I told you, they're always watching you.

Look at me,
look what I can do,
can you see me?

I'll drink to that,
cheers,
for they're always watching.


Details | Free verse | |

“ABAMI EDA” (For Fela Anikulapo-Kuti)


Appears the strange Fella
On a stage of many fellows
But not doing “Mr Follow-follow”
Smoking it out the truth
Into the skulls of the VIP
Like no other fellow

Abami, thorning their flesh ceaselessly
Amidst them the Generals
The fella Fela shivers their spines
Telling peole to stop “Shuffering and Smiling”
But General Hog was not done 
Decreed Republic’s demolition

“Zombie” swamp on our Jerusalem
His Mama’s life cut short in Kalakuta
Then came a “Coffin for Head of State”
Abami, gallowed with pant in gaol
Yet, he weeds on with vigour
Kalakuta People’s Replublic must stay

General Swine’s Zombies tortured him
His long skinned trousers appear ruffled
A Fela puffs his way out of the gaol
Yet, his mouth waxes stronger Afro-tune sax
To the great beyond the sky
“In no be Gentleman at all
But for once, he never betrayed the truth.   



Alayade Stephen T.
29th, September, 2006
11.00am



NB-Abami Eda means a strange fellow.
VIP in Fela’s parlance means Vagabond in Power,
And Mr Follow-Follow, Coffin For Head Of State, Zombie,
Shuffering and Smiling are all titles of popular tracks amidst his hit songs.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Chicago Haymarket Riot of 1886

It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago, where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous. Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue. The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue. The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue. Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made. This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade. Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries. On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees. These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities. The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries. The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company. Many held the police for murderous culpability. Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity. They would assemble there in the early part of May. Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day. Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud. A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation. One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion. Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty. Seven other policemen died later from an injury. The police opened fire on the people immediately. At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally. Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan. They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden, Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe. All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury. Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty. Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency. Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution. The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition. Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause. I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this poem.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Catch me if you can

If death came to you day after day. 
Followed you to bed and never went away.
Would I still be blamed?
If I all I did,was what death asked of me  today.

I could plead insanity,
I'm dying eitherway. 
I could die a mad man, 
Or pretend I'm insane.

But your smarter than that,  aren't you? 
You like playing my game.
I bet you'd like what I do.
Maybe even garner some fame.

You know me better than that,  dont you?
It was never about  the fame.
I would do what I do, 
Even without the name.

It's the thrill of the chase, 
The trophies that remain.
The puzzles I leave for you, 
The joy, every single time you fail.

You can try to catch me now
Or someother day.
There'll be another body waiting
Everytime you fail.


By 

Amanda Miller


Details | Lyric | |

The Unhappy Moth

She chose a red scarf. The most red 
of them all.
Of a dark red, a sweet and thick red color,
just as wine.

She carved from the red scarf
from the middle
to the size of a Martini glass.

Then she carved one more glass,
and she kept carving 
till she fell asleep.

Yesterday
she saw her Beloved Moth 
flirting with a Younger Moth, 
carving together from a sweater
while she was getting busy,
carving in the shelves.

The Unhappy Moth drank lots of wine
woolen wine, 
last night.
She drank lots, too much
for a Moth.
The Unhappy Moth got drunk
and fell asleep
on the red scarf,
unhidden
with a heart filled with peace.

She was not afraid no more. 
Now she could be seen easily,
laying on the scarf
and easily crushed.

The Unhappy Moth was not 
afraid of death no more,
at least, now she knew 
how wonderful the red scarfs are
and that they taste
like red wine.


Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Todtnauberg

Paul Celan (1920 in Cernauti, Romania  - 1970 in Paris) was a poet and translator. Paul
Antschel was born into a Jewish family in Romania, but as a writer used the pseudonym
"Paul Celan," becoming one of the major German-languuage poets after World War II. Celans
parents were deported by the Nazis in 1942 to a death camp in Transnistria (area between
Moldvia and Ukraine). His Father died of thyphoid, his mother was shot. The deportation
and the death of his parents  left deep marks in Paul Celan. From 1942-1943 he was
imprisoned in work camps and had to work in road construction in southern Moldavia. After
the liberation by the Red Army, Celan went back to Czernowitz and finally settled in Paris
in 1948. In 1969 he travelled to Jerusalem, only fwe months before his death.
Circumstances and true date of his death are not really known but it is believed that he
drowned himself in the Seine River in April 1970. His body was found near Coubevoie, ten
kilometres downstream in the Seine. He was buried on May 12th 1970 in Paris.

	Todtnauberg (Paul Celan)

	Arnika, Augentrost, der
 	Trunk aus dem Brunnen mit dem
	Sternwürfel drauf,


         in der
         Hütte, (= Hut in English)


         die in das Buch
         - wessen Namen nahms auf
         vor dem meinen? -
         die in dies Buch
         geschriebene Zeile von
         einer Hoffnung heute,
         auf eines Denkenden
         kommendes
         Wort
         im Herzen,

         Waldwasen, uneingeebnet
         Orchis und Orchis, einzeln,

         Krudes, später, im Fahren,
         deutlich,

         der uns fährt, der Mensch
         der's mit anhört,

         die halb-
         beschrittenen Knüppel-
         pfade im Hochmoor,

         Feuchtes,
         viel.
--------------------------------------------

Arnica, eyebright, the 
draft from the well with the 
star-die on top, 
in the 
Hütte    
written in the book 
- whose name did it record 
before mine? -
in this book 
the line about 
a hope, today, 
for a thinker's 
word 
to come, 
in the heart, 
forest sward, unleveled, 
orchis and orchis, singly, 
crudeness, later, while driving, 
clearly, 
he who drives us, the man, 
he who also hears it, 
the half- 
trod log- 
trails on the highmoor, 
humidity, 
much. 

Celan: "Todtnauberg" (translated by Pierre Joris)
Used by permission of the translator


Details | Rhyme | |

Sons of Memory

Sons of Memory (For those among you in the soil)

I render this verse to sons of memory
Who have been trailblazers to the history-
In poetry world and many beyond.
I doff my hat to you in your lone ground-
Where words deafen world but dear to your wall.
With all sense of commitment I snowball
For this age to re-elevate your name.
Let it accords your hands the deserved fame
And trails your paths in and out and with lines.
Should this age will spoon satisfactory spines. 


Friday February 28, 2014.

Dedicated to all classical poets and writers of other genres
Who have gone to the great beyond.


Details | Rhyme | |

Papa

He walked me down a broken fence line when I was five.	
He put the soil in my hands and taught me it was alive.
He spoke to me of life, in a gentle voice.
Taught me wrong from right, and left me with the choice.
He boosted me up on a saddled horse.
Taught me the things that would carry me through my life’s coarse.
He took my small hand in his work worn hand,
As  he took me out in the fields and taught me the land.
And there was always a warm smile behind kind eyes.
Smile down at my small face, gentle and wise.
Showed me how to stack hay in a barn when I was eight.
And I can still remember swinging on a cattle guard gate.
And the day he told me someday he would be gone.
The only time in my young life I thought my papa was wrong.
On a wide front porch he told me stories of how life used to be.
And he would say it was a better time, and I would agree.
I still remember climbing up in his lap to sit on his knee.
He was the biggest part of what made me.
A man who taught me to work for everything I had.
He did. They just don’t make em’ like they did my grandad.
In my child eyes he was a man among men.
And I know there will never be another like him again.
These tears I just cannot hide.
For the last good man left, has died.





6-17-10
Sarah D Comstock


Details | Quatrain | |

For I Had Lied

Dada was everything to our youth
Our wide faculty was his help
Our recognition was his sooth
Nobody does it than his rep

Many youth he carried up there
Without seeking any penny
Many services he rendered
For free. All of which we did see 

He was not a king or a prince
Perhaps he was just a God sent
To his community, king and prince...
He begot not but was begot

Mindful of his predicament
But dare not showed it on earth
Till that Friday night he drove out
Of town and took to a scar oath

The next hour we heard he had died
And left us belated letter
"Don't cry for me, for I had lied.
...I'll die now before later"


*cry for...: Mourn

28/05/2013


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

HELP HER UP

written 2nd Aug 2013



This life is not as it should be
 pick up your wife, can't you see 

You're her husband, stand up!
 give her a reason, to again believe

She means 'everything'....to this family
 shutting the door leaving her totally... Alone

Do you actually know her at all...
 damaging her heart and soul, deep within it's cold

Loneliness consumes her, it's been so long
 it must be asked...do you still love her?

Are you willing to help her to her feet again?
 or shall you sit back and watch, as she see's the end

This is completely left for only you, her husband to declare
 how much does she really mean to you...do you still care?

Will you step up, or let her rot into total depression, you see it...
 Love and care, or death and dispirit

It's all up to you!
 Her loving husband, what will you do.....


Details | Rhyme | |

Craig Kelly Let It Ride

                                        
He seemed an ordinary boy
until he found the supreme joy
of snowboarding, made it an art
in which no one can take a part
without recalling Craig, and how
he was the start of all that’s now.

He is recognized by his peers
as one of a few pioneers
who brought snowboarding up to par,		
esteemed as other snow sports are. 
It now is an Olympic game,
bringing other young folks fame.

He attacked his sport with verve and vim.
World accolades belonged to him.
He made the loved sport his life’s work.
Craig Kelly was not one to shirk.
He took responsibility
for safety to the nth degree. 

It’s such a sad,  ironic touch
the mountains that he loved so much
would be the reason for his death.
Their treachery would steal his breath.
Craig well knew the danger there
and went about his work with care.

Craig had his followers and was
Idolized by them, because
He was the master of his game
Teaching them how to be the same.
Unassuming and understated,
Craig was simply, dedicated.

Dedicated to work and play,
And to his loved ones all the way.	
How many long-lived men can say
When they have met their final day,
“My life too short when it was done,
But every year of it was fun.”

---------------------------------------------------------
For Chris Matt's "Gone to Soon" contest 			
			
If you are a snowborder you know his name. 
If not just google-- Craig Kelly Snowboarder 
b. April 1966--died January 2003  
He was my step-grandson

He died in an avalanche in the Canadian mountains in January of 2003	





For contest		


Details | Pantoum | |

Death Shall Nay Be Here

Death shall nay be here again
With the spark of light diminishing
When comes time to cross the tide
I curse that which lingers still

With the spark of light diminishing
When evening falls, there will I hide
I curse that which lingers still
Fallen love sprang from despair

When evening falls, there will I hide
Refusing the work of devil’s pride
Fallen love sprang from despair
That was broken once, in twain

Refusing the work of devil’s pride
To clutch my heart in pain
That was broken once, in twain
The feelings posturing their ways

To clutch my heart in pain
When comes time to cross the tide
The feelings posturing their ways
Death shall nay be here again


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy For Delphina

We come again to the stall at the gate
We come to the memory of empire
Where Delphine sat, the humble queen in state
And fed her family from one desire
That they should noble live, and work and dream
And love … and the gate was her throne supreme

But roll back now the tears of dusty days
When the sweet scent of sugar like anthem rise
From the sweat of workers, and see amaze
Miss Delphina with God’s fire in her eyes
This woman at Caymanas toiling pass
The sun’s hot noon, noble and full of class

See her, a mother, a warrior queen
Whipped by circumstance without surrender
Did anyone call her timid, call her mean?
Who could not find a place then to shelter?
Who did not taste her kindness? Higglers too
Serve for love, O mother, we honor you

From the coal black of days you supplied us
And your children five want not, O, nor need
But your hard work and love so inspired us
We rise in common hope so to succeed
With dignity, but not proud, a true friend
Rarely found in the common walks of men.

Caste nor class can cast decree, nor limit
Our aptitude to rise. Belief has wings
Death cannot break, faith flies in the spirit
And through slant of rain its brimmed vision sings
Delphina, Delphina, we miss you though
The door is so silent through which you go

No more the produce truck will hear her voice
Nor weary hands dry a child’s hungry tears
O death be humble, dare you now rejoice
She sleeps till Jesus shall  for his kingdom appears
And we will hear great heaven’s trumpet blow
And with you mother we will rise and go


Details | Free verse | |

Build up

Continue to push me further,
Force my vision into a raging blur,

Inevitably consumed by the vengeful fire,
Despising you with my every fiber,

Assuming me to be your personal jester for your entertainment,
With such cynical thoughts you would have me in containment,

One day you'll see the abandoned hat on the ground,
You'll search but your jester wont be found,

Till the hour you're sentenced for your heinous crimes,
Until that day I'll bide my time.