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Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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.

Copyright © Jim Fish

More great poems below...


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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


Copyright © humble b


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

A Collapsing Yippie

It seems like everybody around me has forgotten,
they're stuck on a thought again,
saying alot and whining more.
Preying on their own self-doubts,
they have so much,
yet see so little.
so stubborn.
Can't they see that 64 inch TV,
or feel the beating of the jets in their hot tub ?
They measure their lives too much,
they have fallen into the "Great American Dream Sham"
as my friend "Chad Williams Lowther" would say !
Its a ruse,
an antidote,
so they can make changes in their lives which they normally wouldn't do,
because they lack the strength and insight,
so they get stuck in their minds.
Wheels spin,
tears fall,
marriages crumble
and the damn kids are really suffering,
cause they don't have the latest video gizmo box.
Thoughtless over-reactions of self- abuse,
much like an addict who is never satisfied.
"The Great American Dream Sham" sucked them in,
they forgot,
macroni and cheese,
kool-aid,
saturday morning cartoons and matinees.
All replaced by todays goals and desires,
which are masquerading as tired souls trying to find solice,
stuck in "the Great American Dream Sham"
and now saying all there is to say,
Hail, Hail to me 
and all who are free,
all who go their own way
and all who see though it !



Copyright © mark king


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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

Copyright © James Fraser


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Interview

Sitting in a cloak of black conservatism:

I feel my hands,
oily on the desk like shortening in
slate gray cookie pans,
the speedway inside forcing the absence of 
reabsorption,

And my thoughts,
so flippant to implore
if a man with a chartreuse neck tie
can see the long wet streaks
across the cherry plane.

He speaks,
a sequence of interrogatives
common to the bored walls
of serious conference,
evoking tone inflection
in the pattern of polite.

Darest I mention truth?

I am your whore;
infect me with smug integrity,
smack me with false prophet leadership,
just leave some crisp bills
on the nightstand, sugar.

Yet my voice models his wavelength,
relaying back the catchy tired language
of one hit wonders;
eyes brighten,
hands extend
from the man who owns a chartreuse tie.

Sigh.

Still,
complacency
awards a loaf of Wonder bread,
and a two bedroom lower.

Copyright © Michele Nold-Godleske

More great poems below...


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Sweet Purpose

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

Wisdom is not solely measured by experience
But more by capacity for it
I have glimpsed deep into history
I have sieved through its successes 
...for the soundest advice I could find
Most profound I have received from the greatest achievers in its archives

I am a Student of Life
I am a Wordsmith of Optimism 
And I am a Mason of the Castles of Dreams
This Trinity of Purpose for me goes hand in hand, side by side
Each benefits the other
Issue is, they set me apart from the others

Here I am, young when I should be intoxicated with the fads of modernity
Fortified with skills that are eager to pay the ordinary wages 
But nay, I am not to be beleaguered 
I focus ahead to perceive the greater rewards at the summation of days
For I place most value on the greatest wealth: WISDOM and HAPPINESS

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

I choose to commit my heart entirely
To the work I love best
For it is this calling that shall liberate the sanctity of my humanity
The world I dwell in fathoms not a shred of my quest
For it views life through the lenses of reality

True as it may be that my work suffices not to endow me 
...with common currency in these economic times
The rationale of my perception discerns far beyond this temporary mist

Let them roar their throats in laughter at my perceived stupidity
But it is their children and their children’s children that shall benefit most 
...From this shelter of thoughts and dreams that for them I build

I expect no immediate remuneration for my onerous undertaking
For I rationalize it as a selfless gift to humanity
Hence I shall tap deep within to give all can give
I am determined to build this Shelter of Thoughts and Dreams
I have the basic skills hence I commit my willingness and ingenuity
The Good Gods shall present the mortar and bricks

The fear of failure has been permanently exiled from boarding my being
As my eyes are fixated on the prize
I am ready to pay the price

Copyright © Wiseton Prins


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Journey of Dreams

I 
venture
Into art,
Casting myself,
I am focused with no destination.



_____________________________
For Brian's FIVE & TWENTY contest

Copyright © Raul Moreno


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

The Elimination Method

Simple Mathematics, really.
To eliminate one component
To solve a problem quickly.


I’ll form the problem into a manageable state,
By easily eliminating an unwanted variable.
Now, just what variable to eliminate?


First, I will multiply the X by two.
That’s the first step. Done, I feel fine.
I will multiply the Y too.


Now, I add my X plus X.
My Y plus Y.
That was to make sure it checks.


Now here’s the predicament (easy my shoe!)
This is my problem,
And a real head-scratcher too!


The equation adds up nicely
And the X and Y are simplified.
But, how do I eliminate my algebra homework
Precisely? 

Copyright © Laura Meese


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

The Place that Shaped Me

  I left my
  heart   in 
 a magical 
  place. A
  place that
  holds years
 of wonder and
 awe. A place that
 knows me  better
 than any  other place
  I’ve been.  This place
  has changed me and 
     molded me into the
       person I am now.
     The forests, trees, creeks,
    and open skies instilled in 
  me a  love for God’s  works. 
The harshness of the winters has 
taught me to be patient and to endure.     My  small
town is where I  learned the  small-town work  ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn  and earning what 
you want takes  a little bit of  sweat  and  tears. Here
I  learned  that  you  don’t  have  to  be  blood  to  be 
family.  Brothers  and  sisters  are  made  throughout
years of school together. We relied on  each other to
be happy. This place will forever  hold my heart and
soul. I  am a small  town  girl  through  and  through. 
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for  shaping  me  into  something  more  than  I  was.

Copyright © Samantha Farr


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

a guinea fowl

a guinea fowl
molting polka dot feathers—
handmade earrings

© February 21, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Juxtaposition Haiku 	 
Sponsored by: Charles Henderson

http://www.honoluluzoo.org/guineafowl.htm

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Ready and Willing to Work

The job search continues, though unemployment has run out
For me, accepting a government handout set a precedent
If only the largest corporations are to qualify for bailouts
Then I’d like to shake up Washington and run for president

Not of the United States, no, I don’t want Obama’s job
But I’d like to take the reins of a business with some courage
To refuse taxpayer money like Ford, not GM on the rob
Like the public, I’d heal corporate wounds with my own bandage

Now I fill my hours volunteering for various causes
Senior centers and children’s groups show appreciation
Operating in the red, they are used to accepting losses
And in my heart I receive a different type of compensation

Copyright © Diane Locksley


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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. 

Copyright © William Robinson


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

A Coffee Bar with Orange Paint

A coffee bar with orange paint --
   Brown tables on a tiled, grey floor --
Soft light within blown glass above --
   A neon sign hangs by the door.

I come here sometimes just to write.
   A coffee bar with orange paint
To some would be apalling; but
   I do not see it as a taint.

Tonight an artist's work is hung
   Upon those walls in bold display;
A coffee bar with orange paint
   Allows her dreams to have their say.

I like the color in these walls --
   A brazen hue, not pale or quaint;
And in this place I weave my words --
   A coffee bar with orange paint.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Contemplation of a White Line

There's a white line
Dead center of the empty road
The sky is clear, the sun is hot

I am sitting on the edge of this blacktop world
Waiting for a tow
Some shortcut huh? A back road error in judgement...
Sitting in this no-man's land of desolate boredom
A missed appointment, a disappointed friend waiting
Frustration billows up in the heat of Indian summer

Peafowl graze in the tall brown weeds behind me, hunting grasshoppers
Territorial hens and cocks at their banquet
The patriarch, with his vast train, reigns aloof
In the shade of a vagrant oak, that shadows the place where I sit
One lone hen, wanders onto the white line, and looks at me, with disdain
I am an intruder, in a world I don't belong....

I have been sitting here for nearly an hour
Mesmerized by the long white line that meanders into the distant horizon...
I'm wondering how long has it been
Since I've had such a moment
To contemplate such a trifle...as a white line in the center of an asphalt road

Who put it there?  What sort of man?  Who drives the machine, that paints this line?
Did he do this all day...draw these straight white painted stripes?
Does he give it much thought?  This artist,...this Da'vinci of roadways?
Does he think of the life he might save?
The order this brings?   His touch of white on a blacktop world?
Does he do this all day.....day after day?
This artwork to pay for his wife's medicine?
Or for a son's braces, or a daughter's tuition?
Trivial contemplation, perhaps,  while one ponders by the side of a road.....
You say.....it is just a white line......so what??

To someone....even a trifle....a white line on asphalt....
                           might be important......

Copyright © Carrie Richards


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

in the farmer's song

so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

Copyright © Goode Guy


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Virtuoso

.

Pianissimo work performed___
                      An artist this starry night born

Copyright © Sara Kendrick


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Mayhem

World abandonment
vanity infests
greed escalates
charity nullified

Competitive paradise
prices uncontrollable
hunger staggering
debt maximized

Honest  lost
integrity futile
words misconstrued
greed rapid

Equality vanished
pensions minute
labor intensified
 jobs down sized

World absorbed
humans consumed
profits soar
mortgages abandoned

World immobilized
composure lost
hope desperate
destruction eminent.

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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

Copyright © Sara Kendrick


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Hard Drive

For months I’ve partitioned – sectored my strife
Trying to determine – wrong from the right
Clinging to bits – healing the bytes
Moving and changing – formatting new life

My career crashed – with it my dreams
Memory erased – circuits burned clean
Connection to love – garbled and crossed
Power was fading – all color lost

A new system needed – more power and thrill
New creativity – speed and the skill
Designing new backup – restoring my line
Application of will – turn tables on time

Tap my known current – discarding old woes
Erase obsolete system – vanquish all foes
Move to the center – empower self trust
Stun all the comers – lightning fast thrust

No longer lie down – and wait for the call
Stand up and fight – pin them to the wall
Knowing I’m better – than any machine
Time to arise – from a protracted dream

And so I forgo – all advice of claimed best
Listen inside – put myself to the test
It’s hard but I’m winning – getting better by day
Pain is less troubling – I’ll continue this way

Copyright © JIm Culhane


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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;

Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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

Copyright © Katrina Salem


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

911 Aftermath Misguided Haters

You walk through the metal detector 
You look at me with a deep seated scorn
You loath that I made you remove your stuff
You had to take off your shoes belt and jewelry
You’re thinking “I’m no criminal or terrorist so why me”

I am only doing the job the government requires of me
I am not the reason you are harassed and had to partially strip
I do empathize with you seeing I have to do the same thing too
No one cares that I am a Screening Officer I am searched when I travel
The government says what’s good for the goose is good for the gander

You want to get mad at someone then look in the right direction
The ones who blatantly took the lives of our families and friends
Who took the choice of traveling to most places away forever
Who took the privilege of carrying most things on board away 
The freedom to travel with our liquids and gels peanut butter and jam

Don’t blame me because I am risking my life to keep you safe
Don’t blame me for someone not caring about your fate
Don’t blame me for what Mr. Harper and Mr. Obama says
Or for what the UK says is their Standard Operating Procedures (SOP)
Don’t blame me I am just the messenger that holds many lives in my hand

Copyright © Joy Wellington


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

Neruda

In his element,
He pauses for a moment:
And takes it all in.

Copyright © Raul Moreno


Details | On Work And Working Poem | |

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

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen