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Work Free Verse Poems | Free Verse Poems About Work

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

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Details | Free verse |

Doctor Ram: The Soup's Golden Voice

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


Details | Free verse |

The Slum dwellers


There exists a world where the traffic lights don’t work…. Welcome to the Slums We the slum dwellers… The ones condemned at birth by virtue of our parents biting poverty The ones with no prospects, no options, no apologies This is our story…. Morning light ushers in a crude awakening to realities better left in nightmares. The dash to the community bathroom - for those brave enough to risk tainting by the oozing, bubbling faeces (provided of course that they have the cash to pay for the toilet) The rest of us make use of polythene flying toilets –woe unto anyone passing nearby. Forget about breakfast – meals are a luxury Next stop: Trek to the industrial area Goal: To find any work needing muscle and employees too poor to care about meager wages and industrial law. Sweat, sweat, and more sweat. Work overtime, without protective gear, without lunch break, without job security. And for what – peanuts. Hand-to-mouth: Live for the day. The wheel of poverty rotates at superhuman speed. Alighting equals death – death in the form of the way out - Boy child: Criminal gang Girl child: Sea of prostitution The only reprise comes from the misfortune of others. Siphoning fuel from a tanker, death is death is death, be it from petrol burns or starvation. Tapping electricity from faulty lines – it’s not as if the council will willingly connect us with the commodity. Being used as mercenaries by greedy businessmen and powerful politicians – work is work, right? Free primary education –don’t make me laugh. Rapes, murders, theft –just another day gone by. In a world where people are a rule to themselves, only one rule remains: Do what you have to do to survive another day. Period.


Details | Free verse |

'God selected the perfect rose'


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


Details | Free verse |

I Am Bored With Everyday Chores

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she fed her soul instead!



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


Details | Free verse |

LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES

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

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

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

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


,,,,,,,,……………………………………,,,,,,


© all rights reserved





Details | Free verse |

You Already Know

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


Details | Free verse |

Writer's Block

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

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


Details | Free verse |

Tribute to Linda

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dedicated 
to: 
LINDA, 
Poet 
Destroyer 
A


Details | Free verse |

My Calling

Reasonings

Too few
Hopefully more

My resentment flairs
My will ebbs
Still looking elsewhere

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

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


Details | Free verse |

I will not be late to work this morning

I will not be late to work today

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This poem is over 
the work day begins



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