Best Minimum Poems
haiku poetry
seventeen syllables poem
now i am finished
Minimum wage.
Sometimes i lie in bed and feel the room
shake and rattle as a train goes by.
A train that sounds like a DC ten
with three hundred lucky souls onboard.
After it passes i listen to the arguments
coming from the higher floors.
They make a heck of a noise to,
the tension is thick.
The rooms are all the same
full of moistness wetness and mould.
Sorrow and despair seem to be
the very bywords that open all the doors.
That and the Police.
I wish i could move.
When you are raised in the
shadow of poverty,
you must be prepared
to die in its shadow.
Then again they do say
never expect anything as your right.
You have to earn everything in life,
even poverty.
There was a young woman with daughter
She worked more hours than she oughta
Worked her fingers to the bone
Needed a payday loan
To pay for the shoes that she bought her
Sunspots boil oceans
Cycles rage in ebb and flow
Rollercoaster life
04.06.22
For a good part of my life I have been trapped,
my mind and heart elsewhere, absent, in a box-
After the deaths and sadness I just stopped,
stopped caring and my emotions became frozen,
and I was a ghost of me, full of gloom and unhappiness.
It was all dismal and gloomy in my dark small box,
my mind was a window shuttered- broken was my clock.
Oh, time was infinite, past and present mingled,
in a jumble with no rhythm or tempo, endless,
moments, hours, days and years meant nothing to me.
For a good part of my life I have been trapped,
my mind and heart elsewhere, absent, in a box-
In my small nest I created my own atmosphere,
yet, I never left the safety of my little expanse.
I put off all endeavors, I was good at postponing.
But, within my darkness I found some great illumination,
from books I found spiritual enlightenment and jubilation.
I learned to be aware of me, and accept the deaths,
the sorrow, all the emotions and thoughts in my mind,
and words came in a stream of tears and poured out.
For a good part of my life I have been trapped,
my mind and heart elsewhere, absent, in a box-
Now, I live a simple life, uncomplicated and free,
I intend to journey and traverse my intended path,
whatever unfamiliar place that may take my steps.
With a minimum of baggage and leave sadness behind,
even though sadly, fate has left this girl almost blind.
Nothing again will ever crush this spirit, I will travel light,
I will rupture, destroy all preconceived ideas of blindness,
breaking all rules and commands, I trust totally in me.
_________________________
January 13, 2017
Poetry/Ballad/ I broke some rules/A Minimum Of Baggage
Copyright Protected, ID 17-865-767-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Short money,
long hours
End of another minimum wage day
Working class task,
sweat gaze into a ceiling of glass
Start of another yesterday factory pay
Punch the clock ...
job requirement is knuckle bare minimum
Labor output don’t equal the paid sum
Advancement ain’t an option,
maximum effort is weekly inconsistent
Fire the lazy ... hire the next bum
Long hours,
short money
Start of another minimum wage work delay
Ruling class
won’t lower the glass
End of another Mgt downshift on a wage upgrade
Always in need of a higher raise,
minimum hourly salary stuck on a retrograde say
Twice a month collect a powerless payday
The bar is empty except for me and some old memories.
The smoke flows to the celling as I sit underneath the neon sign.
recalling old friends and new regrets.
Miles behind me yet only a thought away.
I recall the feel of the embrace.
The tortured soul that guided this broken soul to this
empty place.
Theres a two drink minimum and i nurse the forth.
As the whiskey burns taking me back to my southern roots.
far from these cold nothern nights and snow covred streets.
Far from her warm welcome arms and and soft gentle ways.
Emptyness and drinks dont always mix well.
Motels and dirty mirrors often dont reflect where you are.
As time slowley does pass.
Confessions to a tired bartender.
Who long since has outgrown the two drink minimum of this
frozen empty bar.
Early morning, in the country,
Walking solo on the road,
I was texting with my husband
In his slow strained-muscle mode
When I heard the bushes rustling
So I glanced off to the right
And the head of a black bear popped up,
An unexpected sight.
It was only for a moment,
But our gazes did connect;
Then the bear turned ‘round and vanished,
Which is not what I’d expect.
Bear! I texted, but my husband
Thought I’d simply made a joke,
So I called him and he heard the truth
The minute that I spoke.
I had 2 more miles of walking,
Which I did, but I kept track,
Peering in the woods intently,
Just in case that bear came back.
two old poems
from the book
2000-2001
Minimum Wage
Pigeons coo
as Seagulls fly
in spiraling swarms above
(universal?)
Birds in anticipation of an unknown purchase
practice aerial acrobatics
**** spattered on fresh Windex streaks
Squeegee stopped mid stroke
and swaying as I scream skyward
Formations unaltered
unlike the boss’ face
Windex bottle shattered
blue liquid down the drain
Sand King
Atop the dunes of time
spent some hours tracking
circles in the sky
and diggings in the dirt
in hope of finding water traces
not so distant but sweat
on my skin sparking
spoke of urgency
The day never so long
as night’s descent
on the old dented diesel
Peyote psychosis
now nearly nonexistent
Lighting a cigarette for change
red paint flaked off
the beat up Ford
leaving a cinder trail back to civilization
We are the workers, call us
an hour before an absent fill shift
The pyramid sprouts atop of
The heavy depths of broad ordinary,
Breadth mopped and swept
Silent cogs push motion
Everywhere, rarely heralded
Carpet of field mice scrambling
Part of the pattern, crucial
Expectations remain ingrained
Pith of the fruit, flavour generic
Bolster of bricks protects
Lighthouse of blinding brains
Scratching hand to steerhouse
Tightening bolts, scrubbing deck
Nugget behind their high shine
We are the labourers, casual pay
covers days not at work, sticking
To meagre styles, life defined
By the hemming, wage stemmed
- Can't afford to ask questions
Surge of activity, pothole filled
Inhibited by flurry, imagination aside
Menial smooths the cement
Minimum makes no plans
beyond next week, when, - if
I have a job. We will do any dirty
Demeaning chore, and thank you for
Your grace in giving it to us
6th August 2020
It Sucks - Contest
Kai Michael Neumann - Sponsor
Minimum wage
The olive trees in the landscape
near the village,
Have working-class trunks
and no illusion
Of becoming middle-class trees.
They refuse to grow
in a plant- nursery and be tampered with
by botanists.
They do not envy tall palm trees.
Good luck to those who see the world
through an elevated height.
Good soil and water the plebian olive tree wants
it has deep roots and will not fall
in a storm.
Absolute Minimum
f has an absolute minimum
at x=a if f(a) < f(x)
for all x in the domain of f
the y value f(a) is the
absolute value of f
I have absolutely no clue
what all this means
because math is not in my genes
Let's hear it for us girls,
Coffee, meditation, the world,
Nothing to discuss,
Do stuff with a minimum of fuss!
The minimum standard defining a man
—taking care of his family
The minimum standard defining a woman
—taking care of her man
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
Forget fortune, I want appreciation for my poems.
Forget fame, I want recognition of my existence.
Forget reputation, I want realization of my dreams.