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Best Career Poems

Below are the all-time best Career poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of career poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Career Poem |

LAZARUS THE TONGUE

O' Lazarus
Rise up

 C'mon in here 
It's time to learn how to fight
You've been taught to defend yourself 
Far too long
 Let us correct your posture
Put 1 foot at the 12 o'clock position
Thee other at the 2 o'clock position
About shoulder length, slightly bending your knee's
But you must,        remember to move your head...

We were fine as truth-writers and scribes 
Carving wounds upon papyrus
That bled rivers of grand rapids
Leading to the isle of exile

Then we became poets, falling
Unto limit of forms
Wordplay allowing tales of incest
To be Cemented
 To the pedestal, labeled as greats 

You've layed down far too long,    
O' Lazarus

C'mon in here
It's time to learn how to fight
You've been taught to defend yourself
Far too long
 Let us correct your posture
Put 1 foot at the 12 o'clock position
Put thee other foot at the 2 o'clock position
About shoulder length, slightly bending your knee's
But you must,     remember to move your head...

You've become a vessel for sampling nutrition,
You've entertained conversation of degradation,
Rarely putting voice to I love you's,
Rarely speaking Psalms we were summoned to!

Oh.  
 I see.

You've forgotten just 
who
 you 
are...
We've authored,
The Basic instruction before leaving earth... Bible
Doctrines of The Shepherding Muse
No other form of entertainment bares our proof.... Hello!

Let's up-root the  Entertainment Totem pole
Use sharpened words re-sculpturing the face 
On top

 Ill-fated doctrines Are Guides to
Peabody's and Pulitzer's
The Bermuda triangle 
It's there.... the possibility of seeing it....?

Focus on
Delving into a transcendental meditative state
 Sanctioning 
The Fine tuning of our prey drive,

Become obstreperous,

Bring forth Lazarus from its tomb 
With a desire to drink of the river
That flows blood.
Becoming cunning in talk
As to, where beguiling words
Trains ears for whoredom
Eager to serve!

C'mon in here
You've  learned the right
Inside the ring now stands
A Champion

O' Lazarus
You've Risen

Scribe ML

Inspiration from knowing
Fame abandoned living poets!


Details | Career Poem |

read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Details | Career Poem |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom


Details | Career Poem |

He's A Carpenter

Surrounded by various profession
Business, medicine, soldiership and education
It's heaven-sent and planned  for Him to labour
To work manually with strength and effort
True hardships; entails a great man of honor

He picked up woods and tools to craft
From small drawers and tables to houses that will last
An impression of humility and expression of equality
Though He is reverence; a Saviour from heaven

Joseph was the adoptive father
Where His skill of carpentry originated
He worked night and day; perspired with pain
He asked of no demand and with no complain

The name is Jesus born in Betlehem
The only begotten son of our Father in heaven
He could have worked in another occupation
But chose to make a living from down-below

Carpenters make
Carpenters create
They take the common and make it something to consider
Equipped with right materials they bind things altogether
The reason-being, for us to know He's a builder

Don't you know that we're under construction?
Whenever our hearts broken and the world is all we know
When we pray and call, Jesus is at work
To fix us and forgive; improving mind and soul

No work is greater if hardwork is shared
Truly, Jesus had proven that a carpenter's noble
To help us build our dreams and make the world stronger
"In Him, all things hold together"'.


Details | Career Poem |

A Brand New Start

                         The familiar faces that I'll long to see.
                   The beauty of a place where my soul once laid.
                    The bests of memories that will linger in mind.
                         How hard to tell everyone , "goodbye".

                           A year of struggles,pain and defeat.
                       How I love to recall the moment  I wept.
                      A painful experience that leads to success.
                Now I'm bringing a torch to lit the path that I'll take.

                        Tears may gently flow from these eyes.
                  The laughter we had shared still echoe from afar.
                   Though my heart is dying each time we depart.
                  I'll treasure those days when you cheer me high.

                      This journey I'll be taking isn't be that long.
                I'll leave you with a sweet kiss while the sky is dark.
                     So tomorrow we'll greet the sun with a smile.
                   Facing a new beginning, in the world we survive.



Details | Career Poem |

destiny

heights without ceilings
climber’s roster for success
destiny dynast


Details | Career Poem |

sapna

                          SAPNA
kuchh karna hai,kuchh kar dikhana hai mujhe
par roshni nhi hai jivan me, par talashna hai mujhe
kuchh sapne hai mere,unhe pura kar dikhana hai mujhe
chahe mushkile aaye jivan me,sapno ko pura kar dikhana hai mujhe
mot ko savikar kar lege hum, agar sapne ho jaye pure
dekhna hai mujhe khush sabhi ko
shayd kuchh karna hoga mujhe
kuchh jarur karege hum aisa
ydi aisa wakt aayega jivan me


Details | Career Poem |

New City - Get Ready

Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious 
I want to be famous

Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry, 
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues 
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth 
 

Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe  on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me, 
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me 

-But- 

Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me? 
 
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion 
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I  hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens

Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm  trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft

But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter, 
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the  valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my  - pause   -   tempt emotions,

mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me  

I want to write poetry, I want to speak 
I want to reach within,
 pen something...
 A remote reflection of her 
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
 when in all reality
I do hope she's  prepared for me



Details | Career Poem |

Wilderness is a Crowded street

Wilderness is a crowded street.

Silence stings the ears of the hearer,
Cacophony of sound, unheard.
Loneliness turns to solitude,
Converse without a word.

Wilderness is a crowded street.
A passer-by nobody sees.
Togetherness now disjointed,
Run! I feel their disease.

Money is their mind set
Full wallet yet they're poor.
A heart of gold inside me,
Theirs, an open sore!

Some own the World, yet are bankrupt,
Emotionally discharged black-holes.
Shiny shoes that point to nowhere,
Prices, still on their soles.

All the broken people,
Nobody tells me why.
Orphaned, divorced, mistaken,
I'll not lay down to die.

To roll over and just take it,
Is what they'd like us to do.
So let's all speak out, be counted,
Not be part, of the Zoo!


Details | Career Poem |

SuperHero

They call me hairdresser, hairstylist, barber,
but really I am just a therapist with shears in my hands and the ability to cut memories out of peoples orbits.

Donna says she has twenty seven great-grandchildren,
twelve grandchildren,
and six kids.
She tells me that her late husband died,
and that if I cut her hair too short she will wring my neck. 
She calls me superhero.

Dustie tells me about her child passing,
that the autopsy couldn’t tell why,
just a selfish god wanted her precious to be with him instead of her.  
I don’t cry. 
I try not to fill the shampoo suds with salt tears.
I try not to use the tape in my pocket to keep me together,
but sometimes I need it when I bite the bitter from my fingernails.
The cut hair sticks to my leggings-
their stories itching away at me. 


I try not to cradle their shortcomings in my cereal spoon,
try not to feel guilty if my advice doesn’t take,
try not to kill the blue jays,
or miss the sunrise.
I try not to forget their names,
or their fingers,
but I will never forget their stories. 

Cut me like an a-line
because I am asymmetrical to their words.
Listening but forgetting.
Sweeping up the hair and moving on,
always snip, sweep, snip, sweep,
dust off my shoulders and I’m back up again.

Glass house salon chair,
I hold their hair at a ninety degree angle.
They sink in the seat
always looking back at me.
180 degree angle, modified ninety,
texture with razor but don’t cut off the length of their stories.
Remember their fingers.
Remember their formulas for changing.
Remember their eye color and the size of their pupils,
the way they look when they talk to you.
Remember to take notes like Marilee’s hair is resistant and takes a longer time to process.
Remember the process,
the hilite weave,
the caramels, golds, coppers, blondes. 
Remember their voices,
the stable and shaky and cracked and firm.
Remember to snip, sweep, snip, sweep,
dust off your shoulders and get back up again.

I’ve got to sit up straight,
grip the watermelons,
eat the pepper seeds,
tame the lions.
I have to crawl when the soles of my feet are covered in sorrows
And my knees harbor hopes for holding me up,
joining my joints together,
connecting me from floor to foot, to stomach, to lung, to heart, to heart, to dust off your shoulders and get back up again.

Donna comes in again, for a perm this time. 
She walks slowly to the salon chair.
My stomach is hollow.
I weep into my lungs.
As I begin to put on my suit she looks up at me
and smiles
and says, “Hello, Superhero.”






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