Best Occupations Poems
I visited mum today
as I do almost every day
She greeted me with open arms
And then says
‘I didn’t think you’d come ...
I thought you had fallen out with me’
Yet
Yesterday everything was fine
and it was fine the day before
and the day before that
‘oh it must have been one of my hallucinations’ she says
Then she happily takes my arm
as we walk slowly to her room
We then take turns playing memory games
A B C of places, boys names, girls names, countries, towns and cities,
fruit and vegetables, birds and animals, occupations
In fact any subject I can think of to keep her brain active
Then suddenly ...
she jumps from D to J
and has gone back to the previous category
I take her hand
and gently remind her what comes next
then we continue to play quite normally
The time comes for me to leave
I kiss her goodbye
I say 'see you tomorrow' ...
and with that I leave
As I walk home
I am not conscious that I am crying
But ...
I am aware of my tears
which drip down onto my coat -
Thank goodness it’s waterproof!
Over the last five visits
When I’ve left mum’s room
My tears have fallen
I guess I am grieving...
not because she has died
but because bit by bit, ever so gradually
her memory is slipping away
therefore I am losing my mum as she once was
Today is my birthday
I could not stem the flow of tears
25th January 2020
Categories:
occupations, memory, mother daughter,
Form:
Free verse
Matchstick Bikes
To tinkers and toilers
I salute,
From mending boilers
to weaving jute,
Man and boy
for generations,
I will unemploy
your occupations.
To brewers in sheds
I sink a few beers
To wet the heads
of our engineers,
From flat cloth caps
to matchstick men,
I will see the collapse
of pushers of pens.
To bakers, tailors
I wish you well,
To the soldiers and sailors
who fought and fell,
From doctors, nurses
to hobnail boots,
I will give your purses
to thieves in suits.
To the grieving docks
I drink a toast,
To tackle and blocks
and shipyard ghosts,
From warehouses, workshops
to fishing trawls,
I will flick my mop
in empty halls.
To union dues
I shake your hand,
To cleaning loos
and farming land,
From railway gauges
to industry,
I will turn the pages
of history.
To factory lines
I raise my glass,
'Neath abandoned mines
of times now past,
From overtime
to austerity,
I will frame the grime
for posterity.
To the silent mills
I tip my hat,
To what ever ills
and this and that,
From a steelworks spew
to a builders hole,
I will stand in a queue
to draw my dole.
To finance, the city
I bow in awe,
To show no pity,
to flout the law,
From sellers, buyers
to pickets and strikes
I will slash the tyres
of your matchstick bikes.
© RJVHorton2016
Categories:
occupations, society,
Form:
Rhyme
I lived ... once
I loved and laughed and ached from my marrow
I spoke my soul, and spun my mind to my innervation and impulse
Swam up spirits to the source of their dreams and passions
I moved and breathed and thrived
Slept and soared and savored the tang of carnality
Counted my chaos, and measured my occupations with desire
I danced with angels, dazzled and dark and unearthly
And I sang to the heavens in their wildest weeping
With a voice of callow intonation ... and melodious temper
ALL with a child's heart, and a saint's assumption
Yes, I lived ... once
Full and bright and joyous as a midday meadow
Yet, in the midst of a moment's suffering
A soft, stinging moment of false hope and agony
I pressed, tender, the lips of a curse ...
One deep, warm, melting kiss of a temptress
That turned to a coursing ... of poison
"You will write with such feeling," she whispered, eyes smiling
As the glass between us fogged with her bitter breath
A painted fingertip, shaped and pressed
Tracing my doom in the opaque mist
Oh, vile brutality - to gift me this insight and creativity
Only to shake it ALL from my grasp ...
And turn me ... to dust.
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Opaque" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausin, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
occupations, analogy, introspection, metaphor, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
Stress is starting to overwhelm me;
It’s certainly wearing on my health.
To many stressors all surround me:
Lack of time, lack of wealth,
Adult children always sponging off me…
Are pushing me into early death.
My landlord is not helping;
He’s forcing us to leave.
The mess my children made
Is something nobody would believe.
I’ts too late for cleaning.
I’ll be changing occupations
If interviews go well.
The uncertainty amplifies frustrations…
Certain Purgatory, uncertain Hell.
Hoping for tomorrow,
A better day…
Beg, steal, borrow.
I’m stressed.
I’m stressed!
Help!
Categories:
occupations, change, fear, future, life,
Form:
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
Said the clown with a funny face.
Many different cultures.
Within the human race.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
A lion, a bear, an elephant, a giraffe.
Many different animals.
All which make us laugh.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
A barber, a tailor, a dressmaker's store.
Many different occupations.
Make your way through the door.
A Catholic, A Christian, A Saint, and A Jew.
Many different religions.
While we feed Central Park's pigeons.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
Said the man with a great big shoe.
Find your subway to paridise!
Zoo York Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2010,2014..All rights reserved
Categories:
occupations, city, culture, new york,
Form:
Free verse
Do people think you are sleazy and bad,
since the day you replied to that want ad?
The words were in black and white, and plain.
“No Experience Necessary, We Train”.
This job is not what most women would like to get,
However, it pays the bills and keeps you out of debt.
You live in a nice house, and drive a Corvette.
Of all the occupations anyone can seek,
there are not too many paying two grand a week.
They hired you for what came naturally.
Men easily discover your great beauty.
You have the looks of a centerfold in a magazine.
Your dancing in the club makes quite a scene.
A fight with your old man made him pack and go away.
He left you and your child unexpectedly one day.
You were desperate and needed a job right away.
It seems nobody was impressed with your resume.
Other employers apparently could not be convinced.
So many places only wanted experienced.
When you are dancing in the club each night,
men from all over think you are a delight.
Scantily clad, you erotically tease.
This is how you gather your gratuities.
Some men get obnoxious, and a bit out of hand.
Enforcers appear to take a stand.
A small team of bouncers comes out to greet.
The mashers land in the middle of the street.
Never mind what people think is wrong or right.
Many men like me will be seeing you tonight.
Categories:
occupations, life, on work and
Form:
Burlesque
Street Cries
Son remember this gentle kiss can hide filthyness of feature events
As I converse to his innocence
Our time spent precious in a world reckless hectic dieses infected
Praying he receive the message knowing his faith is tested
Make sure your hearts protected this world leaves you breathless if you let it
Never forget it pops said it when you realize in due time we have street cries
Don't be suprised truth they undermine hide slide lies make sure your on point Jackson five
They penilize those crossing lines decide to open wide
Supply masses their plans of genocide that's why mysterious people die
Classified chemical envasion replacing brain stimulation Intensifies sensation stem cell occupations
Secret military stations nations at war destroying creation
This is what you facing lust chaseing digital information generation
Be aware of were trust you placing food you tasting
F.D.A gets away everyday putting unhealth on shelf increasing wealth
Make sure to obtain knowledge of self
Welcome to the new world hope this conversation helps peace
Categories:
occupations, conflict, father son, future,
Form:
Epic
Occupations are not
all useful, like when Sisyphus rolls
and nobody cares. Even Camus
can’t justify my love
of quantum or calculus, when it’s burn-lonely
rolling out the integrals: I integrate
myself into a human
-ist Existentialist here’s the point -ist
theory of why I am why I am
and when I differentiate my parents
chide me. I gather the pieces again.
Categories:
occupations, child, education, high school,
Form:
Free verse
There was a time when tradesmen,
Like plumbers or mechanics, were all fulltime people.
But nowadays a tradesman has to do multiple tasks,
Mainly because their number is dwindling.
When they are not available,
Householders have to do the job themselves.
It stands to reason.
Similarly, occupations like thieving, robbery, villainy, etc.,
Used to be carried on on a fulltime-basis.
You could tell such characters apart
By their behavior, dress code and looks.
Fagin, Phoolan Devi, and Veerappan are eloquent examples.
Even a street dog could easily single them out
And start barking loudly.
But nowadays, in these postmodern times,
Or Kali Yuga (if you like),
Such marks of distinction seem to be lost.
Obviously, such ‘trades’ nowadays have gone part-time.
But the question is: Why so many part-time people
(seeing that their number is ever increasing),
And when, evidently, there is so much scope?
Why don't people go fulltime?
Could anyone explain why or why not?
Categories:
occupations, irony, satire,
Form:
Free verse
On a headstone in the ground,
a life's summation can be found:
born and died and little more
marks the end with an underscore.
Before I die I'd like to say
all that happened along the way.
There's a story to be sure.
Let's begin life's overture.
My life began in celebration;
The War was over across our nation.
A baby boomer I became;
My generation was given that name.
Born on the East coast raised on the West.
Who's to to say, "Father didn't know best"?
Dad's family was left behind
but mother didn't seem to mind.
Childhood was rough and raw.
Money scarce but, from what I saw,
friends and neighbors were in the same boat.
Families worked hard to stay afloat.
We made do with what we had.
In handmade clothes we were clad.
Our imaginations entertained us
while nature's bounty helped sustain us.
Raking, mowing and bottle collecting
provided things we weren't expecting:
to see a movie or buy a mitt.
If you wanted something, you worked for it!
So, I more than survived childhood;
I learned to be all I could.
Two years of college was cause for delay
before I declared Independence Day.
I left my parents; moved far away
excited to do it all my way.
To try my wings without a net,
leaving the nest without regret.
Any job well done is its own reward.
I found many occupations to be explored:
mail carrier, bookkeeper, manager, clerk,
soldier, census taker, service rep, soda jerk.
Made many friends along life's path;
A few have met with life's aftermath.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm still here
but, of death, I have no fear.
Of loves, I've had a few
but the greatest love I ever knew,
is the love of a mother for her son;
With him, my family was begun.
I leave my grandchildren to carry on
the adventure of life when I am gone.
I hope they thrive when they are grown
in a world much different from my own.
The legacy I leave behind,
I wish to be my words and rhymes.
So, on my gravestone may it say:
"Through her poetry, she came this way".
August 31, 2015
For my family
Categories:
occupations, birth, death, family, life,
Form:
Narrative
Manipulations, misrepresentations and government violations,
America has been terrorising for many generations.
Spying allegations, secret conversations,
US imperialism continues to destroy nations.
Cheers and celebrations for leader’s assassinations,
Activists disliked for anti-war demonstrations.
Iraqi invasions, Strategic implications,
Lies and propaganda from bias media stations.
Military occupations in various locations,
Native Americans forced back onto reservations.
Greedy multi-billion dollar corporations with no limitations,
The IMF plus World Bank equals evil creations.
Forced sterilisations, fake vaccinations,
Too many unnecessary health care complications.
Firearm fascination, covert operation,
Bombing without hesitation, countries left in devastation.
Celebrity fixation, racial discrimination,
A country facing global economic isolation.
Guantanamo detainees tortured for information,
A brutal CIA program called enhanced interrogation.
A history of government attacks and ruthless intimidation,
Kids in Fallujah continue to be poisoned from radiation.
Too many Palestinians are victims of dehumanisation,
The US and Israel are a deadly combination.
No admiration for globalisation,
Time to abolish every greedy organisation.
Coca-Cola, Starbucks and McDonalds in every location,
While Wall Street fantasies about world domination.
No exaggeration, it’s not my imagination,
Welcome to the age of Americanisation.
Categories:
occupations, conflict, corruption, evil, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
I look at the world's population, formation and the nation does not know how to
build a foundation because of temptation..
so i put in quotation from my own translation "LET ME AND MY GENERATION BE
FREE OF MIGRATION!"
Our reputations are sometimes destroyed by allegations, then that causes
aggrevation, and this leads to bifurcation, so the only thing left is the jail
association...
and that combination leads us again to segregation, with no classification, just
suffocation, and being kept from exhilaration...
Let us have a celebration as our ancestors give us motivation, information,
stimulation, and our jobs give us compensation...
so that we could no longer be in isolation, frustration, desperation, alienation,
consideration, or feeling like we're on a plantation...
No longer should we worry about segregation, cremation, hard medication,
relocation, termination, immigration, or hibernation...
We do have education, occupations, operations, reservations for that nice
restaraunt that jay-z owns or maybe b a guest at that new radio station...
I WANT TO BUILD A FOUNDATION...
But take in consideration that world's organazation may not truly evovle around
water conservation, water hydration, binary operation, legistration, legalization,
liberalization, or negotiation because this world's a lie...
the happiest moment in your life might be the moment you die
and peole ask why...
Categories:
occupations, black african american,
Form:
Alliteration
I can still visualize my hometown in Gumaca, Quezon
both in my mind and in my heart, with vivid mem’ries
rich with natural resources, the place where I was born
source of my childhood, a passage to my changing self.
It’s like a landscape of my continuing inspiration
a connecting link to my goal, the beginning of my calling.
our neighborhood and other activities at the main población
reminds me of those people who really care for their neighbors.
Their echoes of pain, hopelessness and other complaints
motivates me to keep going, follow that path that leads to God;
being called to serve Him with his influential voice within me
I can see and feel what they need with compelling movements.
people’s endless dream to grow and make a difference anyway,
becomes my own struggle, my own wish to blend in situations;
providing me with a new language that shapes me with freedom.
It resonates with profundity and claims its meaning to everyone,
those customs and traditions, popular religiosity and occupations,
they’re Filipino treasures with labyrinthine ways to articulate them
indeed, they draw people in as they take part in varioius gatherings.
Mem’ries of the past, a treasure trove of what life is all about;
being in my own homeland I can feel that I’ve my own freedom.
where I was, I grew up with friends, siblings, and other loved ones;
sometimes a challenge but characterized with so much wisdom.
Realities at hard times, economy with shortage in many banks
they’re key figures in preparation for what church says and suggests
Potuit, decuit ergo feut, and I remember that with real gratitude
deep within my heart I see myself then with thanks and blessing.
Categories:
occupations, faith, family, history, hope,
Form:
Narrative
Painter paints with a brush and hooded mind.
Dentist extracts, injects with a pointed mind.
Mind of cacophony is what a singer has.
Orator hails, evading a faux pas.
Chef cooks with an aproned mind.
Scientist invents, minded with formulas.
Cartoonist strokes, gifted with artistry
Dubber voices over to cover up travesty.
A wrestler can break anybody with a ranting mind.
Audience can just watch and listen with a calming mind.
If a dancer prances with a swirling mind
then a choreographer can relax to unwind.
So many other occupations with distinct minds,
Instructive of vocations and interests
descriptive of master minds.
What is your job?
Categories:
occupations, jobs,
Form:
Didactic
Culture in Bean Town was part of the City bling, bling! They socialized and told about what was happening in their lives and party until sunrise. These extravaganzas [usually] happen on Thursday night and when all was tired; they slept until Saturday. When Sunday arrived, they rose and begin their weekly journey into meaningful lives. Some were Doctors of the Common Cold in which Bean People got quite often but never became severely ill because these doctors had magnificent skills. There were no other illness and/or physical maladies in this city; however, a child could be born with difficulty if the mother concealed her pregnancy. Since marriage was mandated but did not curtail sex, this occurs often enough to become a problem. The doctors then would provide the mother and child with a sanctuary and the father was mandated by elder law to marry her and that would bless the child. From there, whatever was the child’s malady it would become a strength in which it could be either medical or mental but it would be extended to another place in City of the Bean People. Meaning, that this malady would become a sacred beanstalk in which the child would gain spiritual guidance and religious definition because an element or elements would be missing from his or her soul and this was needed for completeness of his or her human life formed and no one knew of this but the Doctors and the Scribes.
Once a Bean person did die, burial ceremony was carried out by Scribes in which they were dressed in the leaves of their Beanstalk and was buried in The Field of Lost Lives, which extended miles and miles, which never ends until City of the Bean People expires.
The women of Bean Town usually were Cooks, Teachers, Nurses, and Weavers. The men were the Doctors, Scribes, and the Landscapers. However, these were not mandated occupations by gender and in rare occasions there would be indifference. Their economics was based on a trading system but this was established through industry and agrarian means in which their currency became the leaf (prosperose) from the Beanstalk of Prosperity, which only could be obtained by trading with the Scribes and the more affluent Doctors.
Categories:
occupations, appreciation, best friend, birth,
Form:
Ballad