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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
~SKAT~
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
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Living amid the blurred lines of my reflections
Stark cold fears snow me blanket my resolve
Nestled my leafless core begging for rebirth
Patches of life clumped to the reality of what is what was
Soul penetrating every doubt of self worth
Raw exposure of glory days forgone
Dreams engulf the rapture of greener pastures
Revealed in roots embedded firmly in my foundation
Seeds flourish branches extend and trunks stand firm
Copyright © Carol B. | Year Posted 2016
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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I once dated a pilot …
We both had our head in the clouds
Our relationship lead to a lot of turbulence -
I guess it never really got off the ground!
I once dated a glazier…
He thought I would be putty in his hands
But I could see right through him…
He was constantly smashed
I once dated an undertaker…
He knew he had stiff competition
I couldn’t cope - he was always ‘coffin’ when he picked me up in his hearse
He had no sense of humour in fact he was dead boring
I once dated an angler
The thought he was a real catch…
But the scales soon fell from my eyes
As he was obsessed with his flies
I once dated a footballer
He thought he could score with me
Told me he had great tackle…
But it was just a load of balls
I once dated a fishmonger…
He thought he was cod’s gift to women
He invited me back to his plaice…
Where I found out he was really a cold fish
Submitted to 101 poems in a row
Sponsored by PD Linda:-)
15th April 2016
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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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 | Year Posted 2013
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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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 | Year Posted 2011
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At patients bedside tending the sick and dying
Nurses are absolutely amazing people
Giving tender care
Each and every day
Life is so so precious
Such a wonderful job they all do
Contest: Angels
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
1st January 2016
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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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
adulthood-independent
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
shines.
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 | Year Posted 2013
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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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 - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
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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 | Year Posted 2015
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i broke the office paper shredder the day before yesterday
and needless to say
the cruel word has spread around the office town
i broke the office paper shredder
i arrived to work yesterday
and there was an awkward tea point silence
nothing was said you understand
but there was that definite vibe
similar to one of those who jammed the photocopier vibes
you know the drill
precisely like a more bloody episode of the wire
i opened an email
did you break the office paper shredder
did you inform anyone
it took us nearly thirty five minutes to fix it..so i'm guessing that means it took them up to thirty four minutes
..it took us nearly thirty five minutes to fix it
also you must have folded the paper in half before shredding
why
please respond asap
we never thought you would be capable of doing something so..
i responded guilty
i'm guilty and i'm sorry
i didn't know i jammed it
i'm sure the paper went through
and i never folded it either
or if i did it was an oversight
it wasn't on purpose
it's not like i'm some kind of terrorist
oh we'll be the judge of that
will you please step outside..
now as i have a day off today
i shall only find out tomorrow night whether
this case will be escalated
to the hr herbal tea bag jihadis
perhaps i should get the union involved
perhaps i should ask for a priest of my denomination
i'm in trouble
no doubt about it
it's karma isn't it
i will be reincarnated as a jammed sheet of shredded paper
and this poem won't help
it might make things even worse
as if they can get any worse
lord krishna please forgive me
i'll work on opening my third eye from tomorrow
i promise
i'll even work on opening my eyelids
i broke the office paper shredder
it lay broken for nearly thirty five minutes
i received an email
i could see that all the important management people were also copied in
i'm gonna bleed
i'm wondering now
while on my day off today
who they have also
forwarded and cc'd and bcc'd
no doubt you too will soon receive that email
loaded with coded comments not so veiled
i must take ownership of my sin
perhaps save myself from being thrown head down
in the man's recycle bin
it's morning but i need a drink
i broke the office paper shredder
it lay broken for nearly thirty five minutes
they knew it was me
because they looked inside the shredder
yes they actually looked inside the shredder
and they recognised that particular brand of coloured paper
that we use only for the committee rooms
and they knew i would have been the one to shred those sheets
there's no point in denying it either
they might have already checked the cctv
it must gone down all csi
they must have taken prints dna ultraviolet
and as i live in the uk
i can't take the fifth or plea bargain
or drive to mexico
or become a guy stripper in vegas
where will it end
is this what i have worked for
is all this dust meant to only turn to
dust
the office gossipers have me in their twerking grips
those smirking smug ninja pixies
their dead eyes swinging from their hips...
on a positive note
although i'm a middle aged man
is this breaking the office paper shredder
that lay broken for nearly thirty five minutes remember
my rock star moment
will the office ladies see me now as that edgy guy
hey look it's that guy the he broke the office paper shredder guy
i just wanna rip my clothes off
i just don't care
a man like that loses control for a reason
he's probably misunderstood
he probably writes really deep poetry
or does something even worse than that
he has that tortured million mile stare and everything
and to think
i always just used to walk right past him
when will i learn
when will i learn..
Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015
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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.
11/13/2014
Submitted for - Sara Kendrick - Jobs – Poetry Contest
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014
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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 - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
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Welcome to our barnyard, you can call me Fred.
I have the hard job of getting everyone out of bed.
Cheerful by nature, I’m proud to “cock-a-doodle-do.”
A beautiful crow to hear but you’d think I shouted, “Boo!”
To a morning person this sounds like the best job ever.
At dawn, I’m sad to say, few appreciate me being clever.
Yes, I know the names they call me... I try to shrug it off.
Cock-of-the-walk really gripes me, who are they to scoff?
Some are jealous of my red cone, it is so beautiful.
Lifting my neck to properly crow is being dutiful.
Believe me, I’ve tried and tried not to strut my stuff.
To be a rooster and not be cocky is really quite tough.
Throughout the day I continue to “cock-a-doodle-do.”
Yes, it does sound like revenge, but wouldn’t you?
Of course if danger arises everyone needs to hear me.
I like them calling me brave and crowding to be near me.
Without me this barnyard would never be on time.
Deep down they all know it, I just wish they would be kind.
Written 2-19-2016
For: "Back to Barnyard" Contest by Matt Caliri
Form: Rhyme Personification
Copyright © Susan Gentry | Year Posted 2016
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"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 | Year Posted 2015
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Sung to the melody of when I’m 64 by The Beatles
Gotta keep working an extra few years
(Not like years ago)
Governments are screwing us for every dime
I can’t afford a bottle of wine
Hip's been replaced
Yes I’m getting old
I’m too old to twerk
But I’m so needy
and my pension won’t feed me
But I’m ninety four!
Written after being inspired by ‘Stupid People’ poem by SillyBilly theKidster
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/stupid_people_900910
05~16~17
Now That I'm 64 by SillyBilly the Kidster
I gotta keep working an extra few years,
not like years before.
Government is screwing me for every dime,
I can’t afford a bottle of wine.
Hip's been replaced,
yes I’m getting old.
I Can't Work Any More,
but I'm still needy,
social security won't feed me,
now that I'm 64.
05~17~17
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017
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Too many roles within a single role is an actor's life
Copyright © Lydia Chitra Jacob | Year Posted 2016
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Jobs Poem
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Public transpo buses are a poor man's taxicab,
but you can't hail a ride when you need one
You must sit and wait on a wooden street slab
Buses are municipal elephants
that move on asphalt trails
If one arrives on schedule, then all is well
Drop the money into the pay slot,
and get taken to that menial job you got
But marginal income don't motivate you a lot
Yet, be glad you're one of the fortunate few
that has a cool bus driver who loves to skirt the rules
He will tell you to call him Zeke
Not mister, not sir
Just Zeke
Thirty years, he says he's been
on the urban safari beat
Says he's seen it all
on the jungle concrete streets
Zeke loves to laugh a lot,
he loves to give out friendly hellos
And Zeke really loves helping
the disabled and old widows
Next time you're in his city,
take a chance and ride poor
If you meet Zeke, you'll be richer for sure
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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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 | Year Posted 2011
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HORRIBLE BOSS
Why do you treat me, as if I do not even matter,
Why does it not phase you that it’s my heart you have shattered?
You talk to everyone else, as if they mean a thing to you,
But to me it’s like I’m something, you spit out then chewed.
Did anyone ever teach you, about the golden rule?
Treat other unto you, and never be so cruel.
I had it all mapped out, my future carefully planned;
And then you came along, turning my dreams to sinking sand.
Time and time I’ve thought, the tears I carefully hide;
Wondering should I leave, or stay upon this ride.
I never thought I would, meet someone like you;
To take such hurtful comments, and make them all seem true.
You seem to be persistent, on always trying to hurt me;
Telling others lies, which from you, they must believe.
Well let me tell you now, something you must know;
You could never take my career, no matter how you run the show.
My heart has been through plenty, that’s why I am so smart;
I guess you underestimated me, right from the very start.
Copyright © LAUREN GARNER | Year Posted 2014
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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Jobs Poem
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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 | Year Posted 2014
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