Writing Work Poems

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.


The poem(s) are below...



Details | Verse |
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 | Year Posted 2012




Details | Rhyme |
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 | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
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 | Year Posted 2011




Details | Lanterne |
Fans
the heart-
that bellows
embers into
flames

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2010

Details | Verse |
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 | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse |
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 | Year Posted 2006

Details | Shape |
                       The narrow path
                           to treason
                            is only
                            a word
                             away.
                           To falter 
                            in your 
                            reason
                          or explore
                        unauthorized
                           dissent.
                        To question
                      fearless leaders
                        or a decision
                      from the bench.
                      The narrow path
                          to failure,
                           oppose
                       the status quo
                          and down
                             you 
                              go.

Copyright © Dean Walker | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |
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


Copyright © Rhea Daniel Dear | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |
Since joining just yesterday,
I have not had much to say,
As I sit here idle,
Waiting for a title,
I watch as you pass my way,

I am honored to be here,
While a select few may jeer,
Mostly I can see hope,
From the end of my rope,
Bringing about a joyous tear,

For all poets who have been called,
Disenchanted or enthralled,
Our mission always true,
We inform and move you,
To make you act or make you halt,

To rise above and expound the truth,
Or to lose ourselves in a groove,
Whether blatent or far out,
We live to learn - live to shout,
About love, laughter or the blues,

For although I may be new,
To this small poetic group,
I see what you've built,
With talent and skill,
Namely this Poetry Soup,

Copyright © My Gull Wheels On | Year Posted 2006

Details | Elegy |
Up into the sky 
he soared 
like an Angel

With us 
down here-- 
at Soupland, watching him as he soared 
like an Angel;

So gentle… 
and brave 
he was,
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet

His breath
could not resist the resounding call 
of Heaven 
and he left, 

Leaving us his poetry, for 
when great storms come in, his laughter 
will dry our tears like rain.


--

for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all-- 
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.    

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme |
11/17/16



He did not hit no home run, it was a grounder

How many cabinets or counters

Have some sort of white powder

Many meals cooked with flour

Familiar with the Two Towers 

As well as Wario and Bowser 

Head up, regardless of any times being dour

Nagivating around sharp objects that could be eye gougers

In certain waters, swim flounder

Certain individuals working as a bouncer

Or with web browsers

And many more, but I'm not going to name them all like an announcer

Some just want the money and power

She wanted exotic flowers

And  a dog that was a schnauzer

Objects being restored and scoured

On a planet with unexplained mysteries and strange encounters

There is so much you can do in twenty four hours

See for yourself unless you want to be a doubter

This place by the ocean has some of the best chowder

Classic like "Wallace and Grommit in the wrong trousers"

Nocturnal hunters and night prowlers

Wolves are quite the growlers and howlers

By black holes matter being devoured

That which does not can ouster

I always like rain and thunder showers

Girl, of you I could not be prouder

I'll buy, now let's go get some sweet and sour

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
2/8/17


Straight, curvy and bumpy roads
Some with cones
All across the globe
Tools made of stones and from bones

Got to stay in the zone
Wherever I may roam and rove

Certain boards bowed
And automobiles had to be towed

Money being owed
And loaned

Waters with or without foam
And lawns that do or don't have gnomes
Regardless of if the grass was or wasn't mowed

Above and below
Where waters flow

By way of the crow
Or as it was written in an ancient tome

In areas with buffalo

Troves hidden in coves
And groves
And other places unknown

Every since way long ago
Time has shown


Tasks done alone
And on one's own

Experiments involving clones
And surveillance done with drones

Faraway and nearby home
And any other abode

Hung up the phone
If it wasn't about money, then quickly came the dialtone

Due to the weather events getting postponed

Skills and wisdom are important to hone
Whether you're full of estrogen or testosterone

Coagulated blood was found on a robe
While it snowed
The full moon glowed

Near the motherlode
Located at a node

Time seemingly sped up or slowed
Objects getting thrown away and sewed

Meanwhile the population continued to explode
In and out of areas that did or didn't errode

Old and new episodes
Information and emergency calls being radioed

Items made with many materials, sometimes chrome
Or silicone
Stadiums with or without a dome
Capable of being able to fully close

Within and beyond areas that have or haven't been combed

Better stay on your toes
Continuing to row
As the wind does or doesn't blow
Effects ripple and domino
Despite if you have or haven't chose
Because that's how life goes
Stay sharp and composed

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Acrostic |
Man of words, strange creature of fiery intention,
Amplifying pictures with that restless imagination,
Great are the images spurting forth from your pen,
Nothing holds you down, working alone in the den; 
Unto the night you toil, pushed by an alien power,
Mastering some inner demons, taming your fear.

Oh how you search for truths floating up in the air,
Producing tremors with the raging force they stir,
Until at last your labors come to a perfect ending, 
Shaking humanity with the hard lessons they bring.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
It's hard to think of metaphors
When dealt an accountant's brain,
Confronted with calculations
That must always come out even.

For thirty years with head bowed low,
I struggled with large numbers,
Unaware that somewhere within me
A burgeoning poet slumbers.

I loved my job in radio,
Where I worked with some great talents.
Among those inflated egos, though
I needed to keep my balance.

Retirement now has let me bloom
And cultivate sensation.
Away, away exactitude, just give me inspiration.


won 7th in contest

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
They say I'm not an artist
That I'm just a poet.

And so I tell them
I'm an artist in disguise.

I write the letters
And while they read my works

I paint them in their minds.

I'm an artist and a poet. I'm everything in between.

Copyright © Hansteven Selfa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
9/15/16


Across the lands and shores

Plants and spores

So much life in different shapes and forms

Many storms cold or warm



Always been an omnivore

So I eat vegetables like corn

And meats like albacore and boar

I don't care about the odds on the board

It's about so much more

And not just the reward

I'll continue to row without an oar

Near and far from the seafloor

As well as any trees such as sycamore

One up the highest score

And maintain a good rapport

I've always had an interest in lore

Minerals and ores

I'm not rich or technically poor

Worse than any apple, some people rotten to the core

Such foolish things people support

And over such petty stuff people go to war

Still there are areas on this Earth that have yet to be explored 
And possible fossils of new dinosaurs 

Looking up at the full moon shining beyond so many other orbs 


By: Dalton Ogletree


Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
7/27/16


Who am I to kid?
Live
Don't fib

At times I sinned
All I did
Could not be forgived

Near and far from waters with squid
And other life having fins

A shot straight to the ribs
Burnt a bridge
Because my heart was colder than a fridge
And I was tired of people being glib

While out in the fringe
Never once touched a syringe
Because it is something I forbid

Always grew up kind of off the grid
Amid
A ridge

To be truthful I became unhinged
And started to daily binge

Which didn't help any kin
Or my chances of being able to win

No you weren't in my skin
And have no idea of where I've been

As the planet continues to spin
I don't know where to really begin

Which is why I'll continue to swim
And hit the gym

Before I slid
Back to the crib

I followed through on a whim
In the wind
Then heard the sound of a violin
After all it was no longer grim

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |
What we are trying to do this morning,
pulling some poetry out of nowhere.
Drag it kicking and hopefully screaming
out from under the bed,or from somewhere,
maybe crouched behind some lonely synapse
deep within the jelly I call a brain.
Just try to fill a page, you fool, no lapse
is allowed. Beat the bushes, stop a train,
play a new piece of music, a new beat
that you can tie some words to, stalk the muse
into a corner, fight dirty, some heat,
anything you can, I don't know, some ruse,
cross-eyed, tongue out, drooling on the keyboard,
anything to add a poem to your hoard!

Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
5/12/17


Very few like I
You either tell the truth or lie
It was do or die
So why go by suicide
When you could either keep or lose your life
During daylight or through the night
First the sun then the moon would rise
Above and below sewage pipes
Filled with human poop and flies

Somewhere around two forty five
Girl gave me a chance, so I showed her that I can scuba dive

It was now voodoo time
Never again want to hear you boohoo and whine

Up and down hills, the tires continuing to move and slide
While I cruise and drive

Get out the glue and try
You'll find out in the end who is right

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Is a poet still a poet 
if his work should go unread?
Or is he just a dreamer 
with words inside his head?

Does a poet keep on writing
though no one knows his name?
Or spill his soul 'til his fingers bleed, 
searching for his fame?

Does he dream of Poe as he writes his verse 
in poetic harmony?
Or Count the Ways like Browning did 
in sonnet forty-three?

Does he Take the Road Not Taken 
like the late great Robert Frost?
Or take the road the others take
to find out that he's lost?

A poet is a poet 
if his work should go unread
His words will stand the test of time,
in something that he said

Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
5/12/17


Go ahead and tell
Hide in your shell
Or run away like a gazelle
Don't like your intent and what you try to sell
Farewell
Catch an L
Rot away and smell
Then burn in hell
On my mind, it will not dwell

Throwing shade
On my name
It's nothing new or strange
What some will do for clout and fame
Is beyond a shame

I'm going to turn into the ace of spades
And a jack of all trades
Bury what remains in a legitimate grave
Then carryout another day, while still feeling the same

A new century
Another enemy
Out to get me due to jealousy
I can only imagine how it is, when you're a celebrity


Your not going to shorten my life expectancy
Or any chance of longevity
Due to me thinking sensibly
My own integrity
And a sudden surge of adrenaline and energy
No R. I. P. for you, or memory

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
7/27/16


Found some inner peace
But the outcome was rather bitter sweet

Out in the woods where the timber creaks
And many critters sleep
Nearby a place where several rivers meet

Realize not all have a bite of dinner to eat
And that sometimes a winner cheats

The news was delivered by speech
And was considered bleak

Inside of clean and littered streets
Here no swiffer sweeps

While close and far from Winter's reach

I'll ask you now, what spoils does the victor reap?

A forgotten bottle of liquor leaks
And in the floor it was quick to seep

During Halloween trick or treat

I'll either swim or sink
While I live and think

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
4/27/17


Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn
Changes rarely or often
Occuring by the top of the river mouth and at the bottom
Near and far from fruits and vegetables still fresh or rotten
As well as any flowers starting to blossom



Fields full or barely with any cotton or pollen
House that do or don't have a black cauldron
On the walls paintings or posters of batman and robin

I stood solemn
And navigated inbetween columns
Before I saw a downtrodden
Individual with the stature of gollum

They were drinking some concoction
Out of a goblet and eating an opossum
Inside a sodden area full of toxins

I had options
But stopped to talk and help if they had a problem

Untrusting and unresponsive
Until they started to soften
When I spoke truthfully, they began feeling awesome
Then reached the goal, by using their noggin

Realizing we all are allotted
So much time even if more is what you wanted
Whether or not you paid homage
And seeked wealth and knowledge

Always had a little or a lot in common
Many a times I have fallen
Been long forgotten
Heed with caution
And watch it
I'm coming in with more speed than an aeronautic rocket
And the force of a super sonic comet
Sorry that it makes you uncomfortable and on the verge of being
about to vomit
No I'm not, to be honest

The reason the house is so called haunted
The monster underneath your bed and inside your closet
With more clarity than any prophet

Amid molecules that split or bonded
Lines remained dotted
Or connected in and out of any quadrant
As the universe was in constant
Motion with occasional paradoxes

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
There will never be just one photo
to capture all earth's majesty.
There will never be just one song
voicing every sentiment of humanity.

As it takes more than just one sermon
to save us and keep us till the judgment day,
so it takes more than just one poem
to share all the things that we want to convey.

Too many experiences on the road of life
heights of joy and depths of sorrow
that there should not be another write
to give expression to our tomorrow.

A myriad of events on this terra firma
their occurrences are demanding
that we put fresh ink to the quill
and keep ourselves in write standing.

So put your pen to the pad, dear bard.
That poetic calling, don't shirk.
On your journey there's so much more to define.
You have yet to compose your best work.

10/11/17

Submitted for Could You Please Contest sponsored by Broken Wings

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Verse |
There were two poets I use to know
One upon words would blow
Like an abeng, and tell of battles
In the heart, where history rattles
Us still, driving destiny like a cart
From the speech's freedom in the art.
This man, this Christopher Higgins
Does come again in the polar winds?

The other's words were long telescopes
Dissecting the distant galaxies of desire
A man whose life formed the tropes
For existential certitude in ancient fire
This man made me walk strange cities
In smoky bars, at the shadowy edge of men
This Williams, Colin Mitchel that defies
The paradigm of same, will he come again?

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pastoral |
APOSTOLICITY I stood at the peak of the mountain and shouted – This is our time Lord. Glory is thou name. The sun was shining brightly. My words came as the breeze in the wind. I knew the Lord was beckoning me to do his earthly work. I sanctified my purpose to evangelical. I walked under gloomy cumulus clouds thinking about my next step. That perfected step that would take me closer to the Lord and his intellect. The day became glorious but a depressing state remained. I knew the Lord was beckoning me to take a stance. Once I made it to the home front, I retrieved the Holy Scripture and began reading The Book of Isiah. Chapter 14 Verse 27 bellowed these words: “All the forces of darkness cannot stop what God has ordained.” I paused in passage to scribe. This is what I wrote about - SECOND ECCLESIASTES: LIVING A RIGHTFUL LIFE . The Lord gave me a voice to apply in or to life. If I am not for right, who am I. Wrong is not a just God. Second Ecclesiastes is about rightful means bring rightful things. Second Ecclesiastes is about wrongful ways abominates. Like Prophet Solomon in his day and time via the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament, I seek wisdom. Gainful knowledge received throughout living a rightful life in a perilous world. Apostolicity is defined as of or characteristic of an apostle. |____________________________________________________| Penned on November 08, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Limerick |
There once was a fellow named Dave
To a pen he was master and slave
During the day he would lust
A blank sheet did not trust
Yet at the end of the day he woud cave

Copyright © Mark Pringle | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |
...or just thoughts

I just want to create
I guess that’s it, just create
Money does not move me
Fame? Why do people want fame?
Glory? I build in obscurity.
Legacy? How can the dead enjoy?
I just want to create
Just to see it grow
To see it go from nothing to something
Not because of sunlight
Not because of nature
Because of me
Is that wrong?
I guess it is a little vain
I know all things are vanity
But, these are my thoughts
Wrong thoughts, maybe
They are MY imperfect thoughts
I just want to create
Cause and effect
Action and reaction
Thought and fruition
It seems simple
Too simple, to some
They want more
Some verbose explanation
Some critical reason
It is not that complex
I just want to create
I guess that’s it, just create

Copyright © Mark Pringle | Year Posted 2005