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Death Work Poems | Death Poems About Work

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

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Details | Tanka | |

Tanka 3

silently I lie awaiting I await thee a wry smirk greets me sighted precision confirms sporadic crimson now speaks

Copyright © James Fraser

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

Copyright © Wilma Neels

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.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey

Details | Elegy | |

His Legacy

Up into the sky 
he soared 
like an Angel

With us 
down here-- 
at Soupland, watching him as he soared 
like an Angel;

So gentle… 
and brave 
he was,
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet

His breath
could not resist the resounding call 
of Heaven 
and he left, 

Leaving us his poetry, for 
when great storms come in, his laughter 
will dry our tears like rain.


--

for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all-- 
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.    

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago

Details | I do not know? | |

Strike

Strike!
O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;
strike!

While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
o strike!

Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
strike;
and strike thee common good.


Strike,
O visionaries
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;
strike!

Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
no liberty
or happiness;
strike!

Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
ever won.

True justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,
strike!

Fore there's no future otherwise.

Copyright © Michael Benkhen

Details | I do not know? | |

Double shift



Working double time

Feeling on my own
Now all I want
Is to go home

Where there is some one
There who cares

Yet I am so damn tired
Soul feels as if it has been impaired


Making next to nothing
In this full time job
Now I have to do school work
Oh my god

Have you ever felt

As if bitterness has overwhelmed the soul

Only wishing for it to be sweetened


Yet every day you wake up

As if your body has been brutally beaten

And nothing you can possibly do

Could bring joy to your life

All actions you make
Feel as if you’ve slit your wrist with a knife



I have been to hell and back
And understanding, I lack

So don’t skrew with me now

Cause I just may attack
And your bells I now
Intend to memorably rack

Copyright © Michael Harris

Details | Free verse | |

The Dead Vintner's Diary

I wake-up to a sudden wail
probably, someone passed away
 
the whistles of the melancholic tune 
of the passing winds made
 
a woman weep, as the angels trumpet 
in no tune now chanting in unison 

without reason in the midst of 
forgotten tombstones, of marble 

rubble, where in silence lies 
the diary, in which the secret of growing 

vines could be found, the gardening 
ways of the ancient gods, yet 

in flick of time the vineyard will not
be the same, as the rake stand 

rusting as days go by, and his 
epitaph, engraved from own sweat 

and blood has revealed that the sweet 
wine, the true essence of his spirit

the glory that he had kept 
for years, is nothing, but me…

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago

Details | Blank verse | |

Yard Work

Yard Work

I worked with stern and determined face
attention on the end of the rake
the fresh grass and orange leaves.

Out of the corner of my eye
I saw a small bird huddled 
fixed against the drain pipe, 
its wings tight against its body. 
It didn't stir. 
I bent closer and
saw the milky film over its dark eyes.

A drape of sadness
was thrown callously over my morning.

I buried it quickly and carefully.
Time to take care to scrape away
the sharp rocks and hollow out a little place
deep enough to keep the dogs away and
with such care 
as I chose the final
home for this tiny thing.

It may have been taken away
to make room for another.
While I write this, several
months have passed and my throat
still tightens from the memory.

Sadness and loss is still with me
and with me for all the birds 
that fall
from their nests 
or the sky
every day 
from now until eternity.

Copyright © Thomas Pitre

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.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Burlesque | |

Dead puppy Poem

es 1/29/11 

                             Dead puppies are no fun

                        Dead puppies rotting in the sun

                           Dead puppies have no soul?

                           Dead puppies it  takes its toll
 
                                Dead puppies no fun at all

                              Dead puppies don't chase balls
                             
                            Dead puppies stuck in walls

                               Dead puppies hit by cars

                              Dead puppies out side bars

                          Dead puppies succumb to Parvo

                           Dead puppies named Pete and Margo
               
                                 Dead puppies Frozen cold

                                Dead puppies never  old

                                  Dead puppies never yap

                             Dead puppies in a little girls lap
                       
                             dead Puppies euthanize

                         Dead puppies, Owners out side cry

                                Dead puppies missing eyes
 
                              Dead puppies covered in flies

                               Dead Puppies covered in feces

                                Dead puppies torn to pieces

                                     Dead puppies with IV's

                              Dead puppies with broken knees

                            Dead puppies that where once sick

                                 Dead puppies do no tricks

                                  Dead puppies do not run

                                  Dead puppies are no fun

 





                              
 

***NOTE***   This is a bit morbid but it is the realities of an Animal hospital. I  worked at one and unfortunately this is the dark side of the animal hospitals. We deal with a lot of dead puppies.    

Copyright © eddee shaz

Details | List | |

Qualities of Health Engendering Women

They see strengths
Not the limitations
These are people who will make you proud of yourself
They will tell you why you’re special
Trust you to the point you have to answer their expectations
They make you better than you normally are
You can be proud of yourself
They respect you 
For what you’ve done
Where you’ve come from
They see what you’ve experienced something real
Respect you for your courage
They live by their rules
They do not expect you to follow theirs
They are at peace to themselves
They are not proving anything to you
They are good listeners
Sincere in their interest in you
You feel important
They are available for honest
Genuine discussion
Makes you want to share yourself

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

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!

Copyright © peter Onyancha

Details | Rhyme | |

A Loving Kiss Slipshod

The fire alarm went off
Water sprinklers came on
Near pups will not writeoff
Pups are my obsession

The floor and walls hotter
Dry hot air_no way out
Get faint start to totter
There's crash on door without

Master early today
He will care for me_pups
We can count on him to stay
His love grows in all ways

It's not him crash through door
He spots me; as I survey him
Shiver with pups on floor
He reaches_ touches rim

Container where pups lay
Places  in  pocket on coat
Fireman works swiftly this day
Concerned person take note

Who's here_need to be moved
Swiftly fireman moves now
To safety takes them improved
Flames leap; gone_  puppy chow

My life_pups was limited
Our time totally up
To be annihiliated
Fireman saved me _pups

My one_ only method 
To say to him thanks_thanks
Is  loving kiss slipshod
As he pets my scorched flank

(slipshod in this case:careless or messy)

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

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.

Copyright © Robert Pettit

Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Broken pieces work

Picking up the shards of shattered you                                                                         Each jagged reflection staring back too                                                                     Anger turned from brokenness of heart                                                                             Mirrors only amplified the tears dart                                                                              As memories of togetherness flow                                                                                   A man in the presence of letting go                                                                             She sobs in a patch work of memories                                                                     Stitching  the old love letters the hurt flees                                                                   The smell of his shirts comforter of times                                                                    Each block sown with care as love's healing binds                                                            In mosaic's or quilt's this will transcend                                                                      Even after a death love has no end

Copyright © John Beam

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.

Copyright © Alayande Stephen

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 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 you're 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

Copyright © Amanda Miller

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.

Copyright © Nya Johnson

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

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole

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)

Copyright © Florence McMillian

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

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.







Copyright © Reynaldo Mast

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

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl

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

Copyright © Smail Poems

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

Copyright © Gary Fields

Details | Lyric | |

Soup

Findings of friends in this hot soup
Steamy weather, a pigeons coop
Lean on my eyeballs
Ill SEE What I can do?
before the sky Falls in on YOU

Copyright © Heydon Bunting

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.

Copyright © Doina Postolachi

Details | Sonnet | |

Bike to Work day: escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar

Bike to Work day:  escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar
Loch David Crane
Patriot Guard Riders
September 2009

No more classes now that I've been fired!
Patriotism is my job: I’m retired.
The Patriot Guard rides almost every day
to bring a flapping flag line on display.
We ride to work with combustion and chrome
to bring the bodies of our brave troops home.
In a strange twist for love of our country
This Arab Albrak was a volunteer
who gave America his youthful years
to make Iraqui people finally free.
He gave his life:  I give my afternoon
remembering our heroes at high noon.
	Packed in ice, he came home to his Mom;
	his body was prepared by an Imam. 

Copyright © Loch David Crane

Details | Limerick | |

A Girl On A Mission

              A Girl On A Mission

There once was a gal who sold china

Tested rockets in her vagina

She sat on one hard though

It made her a martyr

Blasting her & her china to China 


                                                           6/24/14 Bawdy Limericks II Contest

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

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

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole

Details | Blank verse | |

the crowds

the crowds taking the subways 
enter the underground 
below upon waking 
to rise up 
to work 
in the clouds above

only to go back in the evening 
down through the underground 
low upon leaving
to home 
to family
to final rest

in the underground 
or in the clouds above

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI