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Best Jobs Poems

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

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Insane Jobs Of The Week by Rose, Mystic
STEVE JOBS by Enriquez, Leon
Build Jobs For All Our People by Barclay, Bernard
Dead End Jobs by Browne, Davina
Jobs- by Oyewole, Abdulhafeez
for Jobs contest: Strawberry Fields Forever - - NOT by Dietrich, Andrea
Jobs: No Pleasure in the Measure by Richards, Carrie
School Homework: Jobs I hated by horne, jack
STEVE JOBS and TRUE JOBS and LIES by Hsi, Thomas
Lots of jobs to do in Africa by nnoli, richard

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The Best Jobs Poems

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Secret of the Mortician

The Secret of the Mortician

Dead, but I got eyes
Prepares my body at the morgue
Opens the chest
Drains the blood from its nudity
Admires my body before it decays

After The process of embalming
His hands run all over
I'm still dead
He's satisfied

The next day 
Writes an outstanding obituary 
I sit on display


Copyright © SKAT A

More great poems below...

Details | Jobs Poem | |

for Jobs contest: Strawberry Fields Forever - - NOT

There aren’t too many jobs that kids can do
when they are in their pre-teen years, but we
knew of a place to work where berries grew.
To pick them was a job of misery.

In June, my siblings and I went each day;
into a field with hats and pails we’d go!
On hands and knees, through dirt we’d crawl our way
while picking berries up and down each row.

I still recall the rock ‘n roll we played -
our only pleasure as we all perspired
in Iowa’s damp heat, away from shade.
When we were through at last, we felt so tired.

No smaller pay have I since ever got.
But how I loved the treats that money bought!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Jobs Poem | |

A Joyless Job

At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.

My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.

"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.

Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.

November 18th, 2014

Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Sawing Firewood For My Dad, Again

Sawing Firewood For My Dad, Again

"Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
 heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
Winter is going to be so very cold,
 so get it done before we all grow old."

Boys, don't gripe, somebody got to do it
 so hurry up and get right on to it
Winter is coming on and lickety-split
 we need that firewoood before it hits

Early morning hours before going to school
 sawing damn firewood, sure wasn't cool
Getting tired and sweaty wasn't any fun
 stacking newly cut firewood by the ton!

A boy of fourteen truly does not care
 to pull a damn crosscut saw anywhere
If his washing dishes wasn't bad enough
 now this job, it was sho' nuff tough

Working two hours before school was bad
 four more after school made one really mad
Curse this damn wood and this damn life
 hickory ain't butter, this saw aint a knife!

Someday, I'll get a real fine job then
 get myself rich like so many other men
Fancy myself with riches and a beautiful wife
 curse this damn wood and this damn life

"Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
 heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
Winter is going to be so very cold,
 so get it done before we all grow old."

Stop yelling, we sawing to beat the band
 want any better, get another slaving hand
We cut and stack this crap all the time
 pay is lousy, not even one thin dime

Big bro' pulling on the saw's other end
 laughing at me , with that damn silly grin
"Little bro', stop bitching you're wasting spit
 nothing to change so lets get on with it."

Another one, urging me to be a working fool
 when grown man I'll be nobody's damn tool
Gonna get me that money and a life of ease
 lay about, do just as I damn well please!

"Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
 heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
Winter is going to be so very cold,
 so get it done before we all grow old."

Early morning hours before going to school
 sawing damn firewood, sure wasn't cool
Getting tired and sweaty wasn't any fun
 stacking newly cut firewood by the ton!

Robert J. Lindley, 11-09-2014

note: Special thanks to my friend Sara Kendrick for this concept
 and inspiration. Inspired by her new contest theme.... 
Written about my young life and some of its hardships.
Usually writing a sonnet comes so easily to me but when starting 
this write this blew right on out of me. Definitely not
 a sonnet as was her contest requirement , so its not an entry in 
that competition.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Jobs Poem | |


       Still the Worst Job Ever

How do I hold thee, let me count the ways.
I hold thee trembling, beneath kitchen sinks
crouched in the darkness of the brightest days
guiding thy beam as his patience shrinks.

I hold thee dulled by lightning’s fearsome flash
shakily awaiting  unseen anger
tortured by the inevitable crash
intrigued by the neediness of danger.

I hold thee wide eyed in dirt-floored cellar 
your flame slow flickering on edge of sight
dimming through the range of yellowed color
draining the darkness from a darkened night.

I hold thee, for my brothers all have fled
I hold thee, not knowing what they dread.

Submitted for - Sara Kendrick -  Jobs – Poetry Contest

Copyright © John lawless

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Glow worms of the night

I fight my sleep in a drain.
 Oh ! My brain why art thou so vain.
I glow at night when the city sleeps.
To my dears who weep.
Tales aren't glowing at this end.
You lucky to choose the path you trend.
I am a glow worm of the bountiful sky.
I weave silk with my words each night,
Which fades in the darkness of the waving dream.
I wonder the worth of it all.
A vain pursuit, I say.
My soul is in that cave...
Pity! Warm breeze take me away to the morning light.
Let me fly through these strum less clogs of wheel.
Drudgery breeds it's contempt.
Amaya! Shower on me thy calm to tread the brightest star.


(A poem for those who work at night)

Contest:- Any poem under 15lines#2
Sponsored By:- A Poet Destroyer
Place:-    5th

Copyright © Chelsea Chords

Details | Jobs Poem | |

The Great Puppeteer

The Great Puppeteer

The CEO wore a six hundred dollar wool-silk blended suit
and he stroked his tie as he counted his loot
10 million for me
10 million for my stockholders if you please
and that leaves
7 dollars for my employees

leaning back in his leather chair
he muses
thinking of the people he uses
we’ve got to stop raising minimum wage
if we’re to go on living in this golden age

the great puppeteer
he knows he’s got a good thing going here

so with a little hocus pocus
he gets his employees to focus
on poor people who live in despair
he gets them complaining about people on welfare

it’s called divide and conquer said he
you see
the poor are so naive
they’ll never see the card I have up my sleeve
I’ll get them fighting over the scraps I leave
and they won’t even notice
I’m having a feast no one would believe!

Copyright © Wally Flint

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Gina the toilet cleaner

They call her big Gina
You'd know if you seen her
She is a toilet cleaner
She wears a white smock
Armed with bucket and a mop
She likes to keep things clean
And is a real scrubber
If you know what I mean
She whistles as she goes
With disinfectant wafting under her nose
She replaces toilet rolls
And cleans the toilet bowls
She really loves her job
She has a cat called Doris
And a husband called Bob
Her job is dirty and often smelly
She has a tattoo of a toilet on her belly
At the end of the day
She puts her mop and bucket away
Goes home and has a shower
Then cleans the house within half an hour
Her husband makes her mad
Leaving the toilet seat up
She puts toilet water in his cup
Of tea to sup
She has a daughter called Pru
She dreams of being a toilet cleaner too
She doesn't care about the smell of poo
Just her dream comes true
We should all appreciate toilet cleaners
Just like big Gina.

''Warning! Toilet water in tea. please do not try at home.
 could be dangerous and doesn't taste nice''.

Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.

Copyright © Peter Dome

Details | Jobs Poem | |

BC Had Greatness

B.C. has been the acronym applied 
for all events before out dear Lord’s birth.
Who knew another god would change the tide
and wield a power of great global worth?

To what do I refer? Or have you guessed
the god to which we each now bow our head?
No matter our religion, all are blessed
with this thing vital as our daily bread.

It took away the jobs of common men
and gave new jobs to geeks. You now must know
this god of our new world, who loves all sin
as well as good, has nothing it won’t show!

I think “Before Computers” seems a way
to say A.D.  became a new B.C.
Now things have changed so much that I would say
that my own past is ancient history!

Before Computers, life was not so fast,
and even in the 90’s I could keep
abreast of news and make my free time last.
High-tech today both makes me thrill and weep!

More time for family, a slowed down pace,
more time for God; I weep for things we’ve lost.
yet thrilled am I to see the human race
now bonding. But we do it at what cost?

Our children growing lazy, rude, and fat
and less connected, addicts to a phone!
To play outside. . . . Do you remember that?
B.C. meant doing more things on your own.

With jobs, our kids and all our lives at stake,
we now embrace our new computer age,.
Omitting our true God is the mistake
that might well do us in; we must be sage!

Recall the values getting left behind
as into this computer age we cruise.
Look back to decades past and you will find
B.C. had greatness that we must not lose.

For Deb's Contest (B.C. = Before Computers)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Seed Of Friendship-A dedication

L-iving in a world of vast 
souls formed from 
another voided world,
E-ntering thru portals 
from their world to earth.
O-ozing spetacular smell 
and wail when the chips 
are down.
N-urtured from cradle to 
entity with a new world 
to face.
O-rganizes oneself for the 
task ahead,passing thru 
hurdles of life unabased 
and unabashed.
R-eaps the fruit of labor 
with joy or heavy heart.
A-ge sets in,mission 
accomplished or not will 
dawn on the entity.

I-n retrospect,he thinks 
about his childhood and 
how life was to him.

L-iving in confidence or 
shame,he bows his head 
in victory or defeat.
O-nly the taste of time 
will tell the durability of 
his achievements.
V-oid of preference the 
aim result bears the 
foundation for his lineage.
E-njoyment or lack lies 
with the works of the 
man,for there is no food 
for the slothful.

Y-oung ones,a stitch in 
time saves nine,make 
haste while the sun 
O-iling your lamb always 
like the ten virgins is the 
key to success.
U-rging you to shun peer 
pressure and focus on 
the course marked out 
for you by fate,so a 
fulfilled life you shall live.

An acrostic for you 
Leonora Galinita.

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu

Details | Jobs Poem | |

The Fraud

a hallway.  offices.  tinted sunlight.  
people who have forgotten my name.  
but i am here.  
and then a room.  and a meeting.  
and i am unprepared.  
“you’re up”  says the leader.  
and my lungs fill with heaviness as they all turn towards me.  
my mind screams.  
my throat locks.  

and then a word fights through the scream.  
and i breathe.  and find a voice.  
and then another word.  
and a thought.  
then relevance.  
i am moving.  
and eyes do not wander.  
but the scream fights on:  
they will find out.  

i was connected at one time.  
so the scream would fade.   
but not now.  
these many years later.  
“we could use you again,”  
he had said.  
and i had relented.  
but why?  boredom?  faith?  
the scream of fear vs. the scream of isolation?  
or a familiar voice dragging me back from madness.  
“what have you been up to?”  
he had asked.  
and i had lied.  
and now my mind all scrambled between work and stupor.   

“what on EARTH are you talking about?!” 
demands the one who should have taken over for me.  
and the throat locks again.  
and the scream rises up.  
and he knows it.  
but sympathy has no place here.  
so i struggle with the scream. 
and find the words to hide the Fraud  
as he shakes his head in disgust.   

and i remember why i left.  
so i wade in the scream until i am done and take my seat.  
and the scream that never dies whispers, “what else is there?”      

Copyright © Sam Toil

Details | Jobs Poem | |

A Wolf Pack

First we have the Alphas
They're the ones that lead the pack
When something happens they're the ones that act
That's what alphas do

Next we have to Betas
They're the second in command
Other than the alphas all wolves they can demand
That's what betas do

Third we have the leader pups
They take over for their parents if anything happened
And the pack lines tehy extend
That's what the leader pups do

Last we have other pack members
They take the jobs that the leaders don't
They take jobs like babysitter that other's won't
That's what members do

Wolf packs can have many members
They are usually all friends
All taking care of each other
Because that's what wolf packs do

Copyright © Jessica Wong

Details | Jobs Poem | |


TENDER LOVING TOUCH don't fear she's dear tight clutch soft touch wears white polite too sick she's quick your ache she breaks your ill she feels one pill you still preserve your nerve correct inject your shock she blocks you scared she cares through sleeps she peeps recharged discharge "thank you" she coos ___________________________ Sponsor Judy Konos Contest Name YOUR FOOTLE POEM ---Placed1st--- O.E. Guillermo 8:41 pm, April 04, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | Jobs Poem | |


NIGHTINGALE'S SOUL LIGHTS Plain spotless uniform so pure and white Modest neat gear rendering tender loving fight Day, night 'till wee hours, eyes a must wide awake Extending a hand, shaking off all aches Tiptoeing like a sly in and out of rooms Dim ~ quiet same as white garden tombs Grace under pressure upon first newborn's cry Wiping tears from a gentle old man's dying eye Evenings so dark and mornings so bright Everyday a nurse sees life kaleidoscope lights Despite some voice rudeness to foul remarks Kindness,her soul's sweet perfume, larks A nurse appears unfeeling firm when mankind bleeds Within her are hidden soft golden beauty deeds (c) 11:47pm July 06, 2014

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Please God, Use Me Today

"Please, God, use me today."
Is a prayer many Christian's pray.
"Take my gifts and talents, too,
let them be used in service for you."

God hears our prayers,
but, for the most part, He knows,
good intentions are forgotten
as the day quickly goes.

Because to get people's attention,
is a losing game,
when time after time,
He calls out our names.

Our ears are closed.
Our antenna's not up,
to His signs and signals
from heaven's higher up.

So He whispers in another's ear,
and get's a response,
"Yes, God, I'm here!"

But the helping hands
that are always there,
and the eyes that see
and the hearts that care,
are God's many helper's
who don't have to say,
"What can I do, God, for you today?"

Copyright © Darlene Gifford

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Casting Couch


May I please say before we start
that I am PERFECT for this part?
It's in my SOUL.

You might as well go lock the door,
cuz right here's what you're looking for.
I AM this role!

But why take chances? Just in case,
I've put plans B and C in place.
(So I'm not not stiffed)

Lets just say I have money, dear.
Who couldn't use a twenny here?
 *wink*.... catch my drift?

Need more to prove that I'm no slouch?
Just show me to the casting couch.
THAT talent's free...


No -  thank YOU, Sir!!    When's best to call?
I just KNEW once you'd seen it all...

Oh...............     You'll call ME...?


Copyright © Lycia Harding

Details | Jobs Poem | |

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 | Jobs Poem | |

Steve Jobs, Apple's Core

Steve Jobs, Apple’s Core By Rick Rucker I heard it, while driving home today, I started crying, I shouted “No Way!” The man that changed the World of Today, Lost his battle, He has gone away, He made the World of Tech very cool, And other marketers, appear the fool, I carry with me a smart phone, And I am not alone, A telephone of Today, It is my computer, when I am Away, I can check my stocks, It even plays music that Rocks, And, with just a tap, I can buy another “app,’ He designed the iPad, The best computer that some have had, He managed the design of the Mac, It changed our World to Technicolor, from Black! I am an artist, so you know, That for graphics, it was where I had to go, With a PC, a troubled course I had to find, My Mac just seems to read my Mind, Steve saw the World in a different Way, In 1984, he freed the World from Gray! They said that Steve was tough, Those that crossed him found it rough, Despite their heartfelt pleas, He brought Mickey Mouse, and his minions, to their knees! Because he would not bend, They saw themselves at The End, In what seemed quite a shock, They gave Steve almost all their stock, All he had to give? His animation, that let them live! The World grew a little colder today, Because Steve Jobs went away, His company still carries the same name, But, it was him that brought it fame, And, I might say more, Steve Jobs was Apple’s Core!

Copyright © Rick Rucker

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Take This Job And Stuff It

I worked in a bowlin' place settin' pins,

Tryin' not to let a ball break my shins!

In those days of yore, pins were set by hand,

And you had to hustle to beat the band!

I was around fourteen when I was hired,

And was around fourteen when I was fired!

The boss man paid me fifty cents per hour,

'Til one night our relationship went sour!

I advised him where he could stuff the job!

Said he, "Find another line of work, Bob!"

Couldn't face workin' there 'til I retired.

Found work pumpin' gas when I was rehired!

8 November 2014 - Entry for Sara Hendrick's "Jobs" Contest

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Slave to the Job

Vampires suck, they drain my life
it feels like that in this god damn place
A pound of flesh I'm sure they'll take
but even then they won't be full
not satisfied until
I'm worn and I'm weary
they chip chip chip away
then I'm nothing but a shell
I wish I could enjoy this time
on the short path to the inevitable
A pension not too far off for some years of frailty
but what's the point shall I give up now
to stop the pain of being a zombie
I'll carry on because I'm programmed to
but the vultures, the leeches and parasites continue
to bleed me for my life

Copyright © Rob Carter

Details | Jobs Poem | |

The Rising Red sun

                       Inspirational poem.. Rising Golden red sun all its way..dedicated to all 
                               of you  guys..wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

                                          The Rising Red sun

As like the charming moon and  luminous star fades away.
It promises to send the dynamite sun shining in the sky.
Due to which oceano pearl glitters all the day.
Praying god for the happiness in all our way.

The morning sagas made me understand, Me and my vivacious life.
But When I look back and pick up the souvenir of my childhood. Its just nostalgic. Feel like to go back to the teenage. The sustained pain is the only option left that I can’t get those days of my innocence back.
All I could make up my mind and just say, move on. Just move on.

Ray of hope chimed my heart.
Because god gifted me Something and added in my cart.
Provided me and my sincerity towards work can’t depart.
From the very day uplifted to give a quick start.

The moment I realized the magnetising power of the sun.
Felt trust on it and renovated my life again by attenuating my pains.
Rest all I expect peace my thee.
Left with the ray of hope. Bless us  MY god, My lord !!!!!

Wrote by:

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Clueless Job Applicant

You’ll never guess whom the cat drug in; have a day where you just couldn’t win?
He came strutting in, smacking his gum loud, dressed to the nines Goth Punk style.
Tats trailed down his left arm, with my notice, he said, saving up for the other arm.
When ask about drugs, his answer to me was: “Yes, I’ll share” most invitingly…

Metal adornments on ears, nose, and lips, didn’t want to know, the all of it, at this.
As I noticed, he smiled most cattily, asking: ‘Want to see where else they might be?’ 
Hair a Mohawk with a trail down his back, colors of the rainbow, left nothing to lack.
Steel studs on a black leather butt, said, ‘Bite Me!’ with each and every staged strut.

What are you kidding?… Do my eyes me deceive, or did he just make a pass, at ME?
No Way! I’d rather drop kick him from my office fast, didn't he have any real class?
The application, a Sales Manager Job. Who would try to send me over the deep end?
Bet it had been a practical joke, beginning to end, so I simply held on, my friend.

He must've read my face, forhe smirked, I continued to ask for his list of experience.
His experience was none, but he said he managed his I-tune collection, very well.
Of course, he was the Leader of his ‘Chat Room’. I wondered, ‘Who could tell?’ GEE!
Also an impressive set up on his Facebook page, for his innumerable video games.

I ask how he was qualified for ANY job? Said, Dad ‘THE CEO’ wanted him employed.
I verified this with a call, was told not to be too Harsh, he had Potential, after all...
Ask what job he wanted to give his son? ‘Let him chose himself’, came the real clue!
Ask him, what job he really wanted to do, ‘VP in charge of Recreation’ was imbued.

Said he'd check out all the great places, in his Dad’s fancy Porche. Honestly True!
I kid you not! And he wanted his girlfriend, made into his secretary, Yah! No Doubt!
Believe it or not, he got all he thought he was due. All approved by the CEO’s! True!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better… I began to really reconsider…

Really, who had been clueless… It hadn’t been him!… Which left me in a dither…
Knowing I just couldn’t win!  I’d be glad when this day was finally, truly, done… 
The kid had probably thought this a great joke on me from beginning to the end!
My perfect job, had just come undone! Apparently, being in HR isn’t always fun! 

My college degree, that took so much sacrifice, no longer sparkled, so much to me.
Boy did I now WISH, I was a CEO’s SON! As I simply got all the paper work done. 
Later, I saw the family portrait on the CEO’s desk. Lucky me! One down!… 
Only eight more to go!

Carol Eastman and Hubby

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Careful What You Wish For

There once was an ambitious man named Eddie,
who wanted a job in the traveling industry.
The genie granted his wish,
but Ed never expected this;
an employer's note saying, "Welcome to the DMV!"

Copyright © Timothy Hicks

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Coincidental Names And Vocations

I was reminiscing the other day about people I've known o'er the years,
And found it strange that their names corresponded with their careers.
For instance, Joseph Carpenter was handy with hammer, nails and saw.
Clyde Barrister, famed ambulance chaser, successfully practiced law!

Art Paynter, dabbled in pornographic oils and is now confined in prison.
My dentist, Whitey Capps, takes care of my choppers as if they were his'n.
A neighbor, Semmi Riggs, is a long-haul trucker and is on the road a lot.
He married a classmate of mine, Tipsy Toper, renowned as the village sot!

An old army buddy, Hank Roper, is a cowpoke and rides the rodeo scene.
An old girl friend of mine, Freda Flick, is now starring on the silver screen.
The town ne'er-do-well, Don Heller, got religion and became a preacher.
His brother Bob (known as stuttering Bob) became an English teacher!

Willie Wrench turned out to be one of the finest Buick mechanics around,
And his wife Lila (nee Leak) is a plumber and none better is to be found.
Cyrus Cloud is working for the National Weather Service as a meteorologist,
And I hear that Buddy Butts has a thriving practice as a famed proctologist!

Frenchie Horne has his own band and I see him on the boob tube now and again.
An old pal, Gilbert Graves, is the village undertaker located at Fifth and Main.
Was it intentional or fickle fate that wedded these names to their vocation?
I reckon in a sense 'twas both due to a struggling bard's wild imagination!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Jobs Poem | |

Not My Dream Job

Babysitting little kids 
when I was just a teen,
tore my sanity to shreds
for some were quite obscene.

Changing a dirty diaper, 
wiping a runny nose, 
cleaning up crumbs and spilled milk, 
chores I would not have chose.

Despite the utter chaos
some could be rather sweet
'specially when I tied them up
by little hands and feet.*

I told myself I'd never
have small ones of my own -
I'm thankful I changed my mind
now that I am all grown.

*of course, I never tied up any children,
but the thought may have crossed my mind.

For Sara's Jobs Poetry Contest, 11/14/14

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders