Best Earner Poems
Never really quite understood,
so mind boggling it's just no good,
Albert Einstein's Theory of Relativity.
E=mc2 he defined as Energy
equals Mass times twice Velocity -
but what's that to a poor wage earner like me?
Armstrong got to the moon thanks to this theory,
I don't believe it at all, it's plain trickery,
surely he was just fooling everybody.
Newton's Law of Gravity I can well understand -
you fall from a tree, you're dead and you're done;
but a hocus-pocus thing like Relativity, no way!
This Einsteinian mind game's not my cup of tea,
it's so ridiculous it could never ever be,
it just won't cut it for me.
Had ole Albert simply said that apple is purple,
orange is not a color and melon is no lemon,
life would be easier for this rotten simpleton.
Ah, might as well just stick to prose and poetry,
won't cause trouble to my mind and body,
not to mention my sanity!
Sometimes it seems hard to believe,
But nobody can challenge a truth.
When I was a child and studying,
In a primary school, my elder brother,
Had died, mum didn’t eat
For three days, I and my brother also,
Didn’t eat anything and pursuing mum,
We shall eat when you do it first.
My neighbour comes and always said,
Afraid from him, he knows better,
I was unable to understand, why she said,
My elder brother failed and joins me, we were
Classmates there were years until he failed,
And joined a job and missed my company.
After his brother and sister had married,
On her first delivery she fall mentally ill,
Family lost all sources to recover her,
But she is still mentally upset,
Father was only earner,
And other six were student.
It was a motto to give higher education,
He got a loan and paid back very hardly,
Circumstances was very poor but
We all wore a very good dress.
I passed middle when I eat once a day,
And wore shoes in winter of my mum.
People pointing out to my dad and asks,
Why are you facing poverty? Look at,
Your lads are young, they can do work also,
My dad was seeking their degrees.
Although poverty touched at the top, But
Nobody loosed patience and worked hard.
Poverty can be changed with patience,
If you earn long term education, dad says.
Inside the room in the administrative offices floor
of a plush hotel, an unmarried middle aged lady executive,
showing a lottery ticket, told her secretary
that she won five hundred dollars. She wasn’t happy.
Inside the cold storage of the same establishment,
a male storekeeper, a daily wage earner and father of three,
was all smiles as he showed a ticket and promised to treat
his mate to a beer. He won the same amount.
Now these two anecdotes happened within the same week.
What struck me was the stark difference in their reactions
upon winning the same amount. The executive said,
“I don’t need the five hundred, I want the one million”.
The storekeeper said “Thank God, this is heaven-sent!”
Looking back, there was only one thing I thought that minute:
It takes more for those who have more in life to be thankful,
and it only takes little for those who have less to be grateful.
Who between the two has learned the secret to being happy?
15 October 2015
Giving Thanks Contest
Sponsor: Ed Ebbs
Morris is tabloid attracting and affluent
but too extreme to make me
the constant victim of his insults
and a prisoner to his pride.
Curtis is a reflection of current culture.
Yes he is, but that’s not my ride,
so much piercing and tattoos
makes him a human shrine
and a scary movie beyond an adult audience.
Jason has swag beyond the radiance
of an intimidating hip hop mega star
but is it his lips-licking, dressing malpractice
or a voice which is a mixture of rock and reggae?
Not exactly what I’ve dreamt of since childhood.
Matt is modest, corporate and a very find dude.
Business will always be his true love
making me a mere contracted mistress
who will fit in only when rarely needed.
He’s a good guy, but will be a terrible lover.
Okay! Nicholas is another, simple and a soft earner.
What! Low income dudes? Pleeeaaaase!
The heavens and demons aren’t related
so also are the winter and the desert.
I may be a church girl, but one who gives fat offerings.
Oh miss! You are one of a rare kind my dear
since your eyes are microscopic and your taste insurmountable.
Your virtues then would be complete
when you have gross patience so infinitive.
It should then not be a heavy task for you
to wait for the only perfect fit of your choice
because Jesus Christ is coming very soon.
To sing was an ever present ideal
As a child would have a pretend mic and sing'
Family encouraged this budding diva
All i ever wanted to do, it was my thing.
I dreamt of singing with a band
Singing Jazz and maybe the Blues
Was sure we would make it big time
Like Ella Fitzgerals
would have loved to have been in her shoes.
Now my voice might be pleasant
Not a money earner thats for sure
If I had followed my dream i know
Would have never been rich, mostly poor
Now I sing with a mic at my pc
Not always in the right key
I enjoy what I do, the best part is
no one is here to critcise me.
I wonder why the dog lies wth ears covered
You think maybe she is trying to tell me something.
Penned 15 August 2015
that frigidly cold new year
I was the sole bread earner
with a seriously sick husband
watery soup was all for dinner
it was time for Easter
and spring break at school
my just-turned-teenager wanted to help
some extra bucks, he said, would be cool
he donned a bunny costume
white with pink ears and belly
outside the store where I worked
he stood waving to all in winds, so chilly
him handing candy to little kids
I watched proudly from the window
posing for a picture when asked
my dauntless little hero
as we walked home that evening
I saw a man in his eyes that shone
might've been a bunny to all but
I was walking my tiger home.
Written on:07/25/2016
Contest:'Walking my tiger home' by David Lindsay
Achievement, 1 of 2
—Time to share—
I grew up in a slum where the gang members,
at the risk of their lives, fight over their turf.
My lullaby was red and blue warning lights
flickering from dashing squared cars and ambulances,
and my bedtime story was the blow of sirens passing through
the streets and alleys between boarded up abandoned houses
standing in rows here and there.
My mother, though loved me dearly,
happened to be a high school dropout
and single who brought this world to me at her teens.
She was a minimum wage earner, therefore, her life was
nothing but struggles, kept body and soul together in misery
between laid off to employed to laid off, between paycheck to welfare
to paycheck that is thinner than a sheet of paper.
Although under educated, she was a pious woman,
and that is why her keen desire was not her son to follow
the steps of her mistake and suffer like his mother.
Her wish was to raise her only child to be a decent citizen
with a noble profession and thereby add some value to the community,
return some good things to the society.
Apart from mother’s great expectation, however,
I was a disobedient rogue child, a kind of problem kid
on the block when I was a lad. I got into bad company
and led astray by them, was irregular in attendance to a school
and cut classes whenever I felt like.
Until one day I learned of my mother’s tragic death
on the way back home from her work,
she was struck by a stray bullet
in the midst of gang members cross fire.
I retired gracefully, happily, knowing I could never be fully completely replaced even to this day.
I was slick, photographic, revered by so many, loved by a few, heavy, a bit conceited but in a good way.
Diligent children hid me in boots, closets, drawers, or moldy piles of black and white laundry where I rarely had to stay.
I came out in the early 1900’s, evolved so well I didn’t recognize myself by 1959, my heyday.
I was routinely hidden under bedclothes, mattresses or pillows; contraband, peeked at by flashlight.
I belonged to the whole family, but whoever found me first hid me well; I was never shared outright.
My captor would slide me out silently, hoping their siblings would not discover me and start a fight.
I was the prize of the month, the trophy of the hour, the coveted, revered, brightest of the bright.
Brothers and sisters fought each other to pull me out of their rural mailboxes to hide me under the couch.
Coveted, cherished, loved, revered; fought over, fawned over, poured over; I was never ever like a slouch.
I was thrilled that I was circled, starred, torn up, folded, figures were written all over me, and it caused a little ouch.
A big part of Sears, and Christmas too, I brought dreams, hopes, and anticipated joys, causing more than one wage earner to grouch.
glimmering, glistening , the stars in this night sky
Oh they can’t, oh they can’t. They can’t Compare to these bright city lights
The silent screaming and pain can’t compare to these comfortable nights
When the darkness takes over and the stars so far away ;yet distinctive in my eyes
Tho the beauty in those are nothing compared to the colors in my mind
My lies fall towards your lingering eyes
these pathetic screams these bright city lights
Remixing;delusion for simple human gaze
Identity lost, personality stolen, painted vividly upon my face
Oh the way you beat me with your emotions
Oh it can’t compare, can’t compare it can’t compare to when you hold me tight
Oh the pangs from the hunger so well deserved still can’t get my body right
The butterflies ate from quick glances ripping out of my spine
the mesmerizing love given yet not earner these bright city lights
as the dimness on my mind contrast your colorful, beauty-filled mind
I watch your lingering judgment filled eyes as they take ahold of mine
The beating up of one’s self
The shame for a meal eaten and thrown up later
These city lights watch as I beg for help
these city lights are my savior
From butterfly so social
To flowers planted within walls
From infatuation to deep thoughts reserved for later
to the loss of motion,
You watching as I crawl
Crawl into my position as a floorgazer
These bright yellow-gold-silver lights brighten up this happy town
More than the smiles of the loveless and lost
More than the switches inside where one
Lies safe and sound
these bright city lights seen free of cost
these bright city lights are the only thing keeping me around
Father man, valued planner
and earner at your wife's side,
pillar of our homes,
children's needs are met
with your fathering
and in return you're a happy father.
“Our Father in heaven...."
pray the people, that's your appraisal.
Respectful,
knitting the social web
is strong influence for your children.
You're riding waves
bringing home calmness.
In the manhood of fathers
I found mine,
chance met choice.
You fathered the way I needed to,
and I am as you wished for me to be.
We heard together rains and winds,
but birds and singers too,
and running waters,
and mother's voice:
"you two ....."
mother was always overlooking.
Oh mother.. Father said not me
and I laughed, who was it then,
liked to think of me as troublemaker
because I was not.
I looked for you in me,
my children is my decision,
you show me the road to bravery
chasing the barking dog away,
invulnerable on your shoulders
I felt this world is mine too.
Innocent cheater, I still wait
to listen music in rainfall
and I forget I don't like rain.
You're a spirit in my mind
and a man in our lives,
you kept the rudder straight
for us to have and we had.
In bad times you said it's ok,
you convinced me and so I felt.
Noble manners with
sharp cutting edges,
you only gave in to mother,
she said, you didn't answer,
you laughed, you left.
Your advice is reason,
you said school is good,
I believed you,
I rip the gains now,
mother first priority,
yes she is,
brothers and sisters above all,
yes they are,
bare children, look.
With you in mind I went far in life
and from there went further
feeling secure in mind, where
your strengths are mine too.
I have a dreamed hope,
for an honored child
is parent's biggest honor.
Changes dad, changes,
you lied to me once and for all,
your flesh was not made
of the same staff as your bones,
clocks measure mine now.
Fathers's hearts, never cut their lives short.
Recently, I awoke
from a very specific dream--
In which I expressed
my getting-a-B.A. scheme
A long-time ambition
I've put on the back-burner
Delayed because I'm not
much of a wage-earner
It'd be easier to succeed
with a B.A. under my belt?
Hard to get there
with low self-esteem (as I've felt)
Plus it'd make my outlook on life
more well-rounded
Even if all that online study
makes me feel grounded
But as for a potential professional job
without a degree
I'm looking into Indexing --
might be just right for me!
Then if I can support my education
financially that way
I hopefully will join the ranks
of B.A. grads someday...
Whether or not I go after
this accomplishment, I will age
The question is, by that time,
do I wish to be more sage?
But I tend to get discouraged
and distracted; so no promise
Perhaps I can enlist
the smarty-pants prayers of St. Thomas
Helpless puppet
Dancing on a string
Make me dance
Make me sing
I must bow deeply
So I can eat
Yes sir, okay!
May I clean your feet?
You pass your exams
You earn your degree
I’m your favorite flunky!
Pass judgement on me!
The employee consultation
Is your bone-cracking mallet
Why, I’m just a canvas
Or a color on your palette!
Your family gobbles steak
Plenty for all!
Hey, you’re rich and sassy!
Take the kids to the mall!
Your offspring are uplifted
They grow up safe and sound
Very soon one day
They’ll boss my kids around!
Bossus, you are strong
You do what you must
But playing your advantage
Doesn’t make you just!
Limitless cries
of a weary
heart
Twisted in
weaves of
hairy past
The painful
groans of an
open gum
Unleashed by
clones of
frostbites
Terrifying
rhythm of the
night's owl
Matching
towards
knights so
fearful
The naked
shivers of the
dark cloud
High level rivers
eroding courage
Daring the
dominance of
gun powder
Acting with
pre-dominance
at heart
Gently stabbing
the janitor of
serenity
Lays low to
monitor this
bizarre act
Awaiting the
crow of the
farmer's cock
The wage is
paid the
earner...death
Muqudus
Quite, gentle and little sentimental.
Lover of fascination, inspiration and liberation,
Who feels solicitousness, tenderness and at times sadness.
Who need friends to mend
And gives hugs on lend
Who fears their ill-wills
Who would like to see daffodils
Who wish to become a love earner
Lives in the city Mirpur
Shahab
I listen to the Leftists
I listen to the Rightists
They are not among the brightest.
The Leftists want a $15 minimum wage, a guaranteed job
For every wage-earner in the US, be he gentleman or slob.
They want free health insurance, free college tuition
They haven't the slightest economic intuition.
With all that guaranteed government stuff
Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer will have it exceedingly rough.
Though the federal tax form itself will be razor-thin:
How much do you make? -- Send it all in!
Of course, those on the Right are not a whit better
When it comes to the President's outrages, they're aides and abettors
His insults, his outright lies, they dismiss as 'inconsequential'--
As long as stock and bond market gains remain monumental
After much consideration and not inconsiderable thought
I've reached a conclusion, one that's dearly bought:
A Pox on the Left and a Pox on the Right --
I'll not purchase a house; I'll not be a renter
I'll just pitch my tent smack dab in the Center
May 03 2018