A Poem For Workers
Down here in the basement,
There no time for fun or games.
Down here in the basement,
Survival is the name of the game.
No time to ponder space or rhyme
Or any foolish contraptions of the mind.
For when the ganger shouts,
"Move your asses"
We have a ton of concrete to lay.
With broken backs,
We curse our fate
And pay our dues to the human race.
Ganger (Irish slang for foreman)
Copyright © Paul Martin | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment