Best On Work And Working Poems
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Like kin folk come to stay
A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids
That always get ‘n your way.
It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought,
There ain't much in-between.
You work like hell to make ’em good,
But still they’re sorta lean.
The ranch went under late last year,
The drought got mighty tough.
The boss held-out a long, long time,
But finally said, "enough!"
So here I am dispatchin’ cops
An’ watchin’ felons sleep,
In Junction, at the county jail,
A job I’ll prob’ly keep.
The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge,
Where older people stay,
A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors
To earn some ‘extra’ pay.
Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used,
It goes to payin’ rent,
An’ after all the bills are paid,
We wonder where it went.
We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps,
An' then our weddin' rings;
Then when we couldn't pay the loan,
They sold the 'dad-blamed' things.
We felt real bad a day or two
But then we let it go,
Cause it got Christmas for the kids
When money got real slow.
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Don't matter who you are;
They'll cost ya things you've set aside,
An' clean your cookie jar.
You'll loose some sleep an' worry some,
Won't pay to moan an' groan;
But hang on to your happiness,
They'll finally leave ya 'lone.
Sitting in a cloak of black conservatism:
I feel my hands,
oily on the desk like shortening in
slate gray cookie pans,
the speedway inside forcing the absence of
reabsorption,
And my thoughts,
so flippant to implore
if a man with a chartreuse neck tie
can see the long wet streaks
across the cherry plane.
He speaks,
a sequence of interrogatives
common to the bored walls
of serious conference,
evoking tone inflection
in the pattern of polite.
Darest I mention truth?
I am your whore;
infect me with smug integrity,
smack me with false prophet leadership,
just leave some crisp bills
on the nightstand, sugar.
Yet my voice models his wavelength,
relaying back the catchy tired language
of one hit wonders;
eyes brighten,
hands extend
from the man who owns a chartreuse tie.
Sigh.
Still,
complacency
awards a loaf of Wonder bread,
and a two bedroom lower.
I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love
Wisdom is not solely measured by experience
But more by capacity for it
I have glimpsed deep into history
I have sieved through its successes
...for the soundest advice I could find
Most profound I have received from the greatest achievers in its archives
I am a Student of Life
I am a Wordsmith of Optimism
And I am a Mason of the Castles of Dreams
This Trinity of Purpose for me goes hand in hand, side by side
Each benefits the other
Issue is, they set me apart from the others
Here I am, young when I should be intoxicated with the fads of modernity
Fortified with skills that are eager to pay the ordinary wages
But nay, I am not to be beleaguered
I focus ahead to perceive the greater rewards at the summation of days
For I place most value on the greatest wealth: WISDOM and HAPPINESS
I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love
I choose to commit my heart entirely
To the work I love best
For it is this calling that shall liberate the sanctity of my humanity
The world I dwell in fathoms not a shred of my quest
For it views life through the lenses of reality
True as it may be that my work suffices not to endow me
...with common currency in these economic times
The rationale of my perception discerns far beyond this temporary mist
Let them roar their throats in laughter at my perceived stupidity
But it is their children and their children’s children that shall benefit most
...From this shelter of thoughts and dreams that for them I build
I expect no immediate remuneration for my onerous undertaking
For I rationalize it as a selfless gift to humanity
Hence I shall tap deep within to give all can give
I am determined to build this Shelter of Thoughts and Dreams
I have the basic skills hence I commit my willingness and ingenuity
The Good Gods shall present the mortar and bricks
The fear of failure has been permanently exiled from boarding my being
As my eyes are fixated on the prize
I am ready to pay the price
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
I
venture
Into art,
Casting myself,
I am focused with no destination.
_____________________________
For Brian's FIVE & TWENTY contest
I left my
heart in
a magical
place. A
place that
holds years
of wonder and
awe. A place that
knows me better
than any other place
I’ve been. This place
has changed me and
molded me into the
person I am now.
The forests, trees, creeks,
and open skies instilled in
me a love for God’s works.
The harshness of the winters has
taught me to be patient and to endure. My small
town is where I learned the small-town work ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn and earning what
you want takes a little bit of sweat and tears. Here
I learned that you don’t have to be blood to be
family. Brothers and sisters are made throughout
years of school together. We relied on each other to
be happy. This place will forever hold my heart and
soul. I am a small town girl through and through.
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for shaping me into something more than I was.
Pulled himself to the very top
Looked over the world on high
Felt the warm and stirring breeze
falling from the sky
Knowing this was how it felt
to soar above the land
To feel so safe away from things
so free to be alive
Yet down the pole we all must come
to touch the very ground
This is where we laugh and play
gives us what we need
The loving smile of a young girl's face
a women's tender care
For up above the pole to fly
is nothing but the air
But on the soil we grow and live
to reach out, to touch, to give
So keep your feet upon the ground
take a good long look around
and see if flying above the pole
isn't like living in a hole
from where you never see
the reaching hands pulling you down
pulling you down to be
a guinea fowl
molting polka dot feathers—
handmade earrings
© February 21, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Juxtaposition Haiku
Sponsored by: Charles Henderson
http://www.honoluluzoo.org/guineafowl.htm
The job search continues, though unemployment has run out
For me, accepting a government handout set a precedent
If only the largest corporations are to qualify for bailouts
Then I’d like to shake up Washington and run for president
Not of the United States, no, I don’t want Obama’s job
But I’d like to take the reins of a business with some courage
To refuse taxpayer money like Ford, not GM on the rob
Like the public, I’d heal corporate wounds with my own bandage
Now I fill my hours volunteering for various causes
Senior centers and children’s groups show appreciation
Operating in the red, they are used to accepting losses
And in my heart I receive a different type of compensation
The sea was unusually wavy,
When a cook in the Royal Navy,
With a roll of the ship,
Accidentally slipped,
Inundating his captain with gravy.
For months I’ve partitioned – sectored my strife
Trying to determine – wrong from the right
Clinging to bits – healing the bytes
Moving and changing – formatting new life
My career crashed – with it my dreams
Memory erased – circuits burned clean
Connection to love – garbled and crossed
Power was fading – all color lost
A new system needed – more power and thrill
New creativity – speed and the skill
Designing new backup – restoring my line
Application of will – turn tables on time
Tap my known current – discarding old woes
Erase obsolete system – vanquish all foes
Move to the center – empower self trust
Stun all the comers – lightning fast thrust
No longer lie down – and wait for the call
Stand up and fight – pin them to the wall
Knowing I’m better – than any machine
Time to arise – from a protracted dream
And so I forgo – all advice of claimed best
Listen inside – put myself to the test
It’s hard but I’m winning – getting better by day
Pain is less troubling – I’ll continue this way
Baa Baa Black Sheep
We don't want your wool.
Please sir, Please sir,
I have three bags full.
You are too old.
You are out of date.
But I work hard,
And I'm never late.
You don't have the
Look we're looking for.
That's no reason to
Boot me out the door.
We want new skills
For this vocation.
But I have twice
The education.
You have too much
Experience now.
But they have none!
They don't even know how!
Baa Baa Black sheep,
We don't want your wool.
Job security?
I've been played the fool.
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
You walk through the metal detector
You look at me with a deep seated scorn
You loath that I made you remove your stuff
You had to take off your shoes belt and jewelry
You’re thinking “I’m no criminal or terrorist so why me”
I am only doing the job the government requires of me
I am not the reason you are harassed and had to partially strip
I do empathize with you seeing I have to do the same thing too
No one cares that I am a Screening Officer I am searched when I travel
The government says what’s good for the goose is good for the gander
You want to get mad at someone then look in the right direction
The ones who blatantly took the lives of our families and friends
Who took the choice of traveling to most places away forever
Who took the privilege of carrying most things on board away
The freedom to travel with our liquids and gels peanut butter and jam
Don’t blame me because I am risking my life to keep you safe
Don’t blame me for someone not caring about your fate
Don’t blame me for what Mr. Harper and Mr. Obama says
Or for what the UK says is their Standard Operating Procedures (SOP)
Don’t blame me I am just the messenger that holds many lives in my hand
Going on down to the demos today
the last farmer has been put away.
They shot him down
just outside of town.
Police found him in his own cornfield,
where he resisted and refused to yield.
Since his were crimes against the state,
then death obviously was to be his fate.
Going on down to the demos today
the last farmer has been put away.
He refused to buy corn from the corporation,
produced his own seeds for his liberation.
He refused to buy genetic sprays
to eliminate the bugs and the butterflys.
By his wanton self pollination
he threatened the food supply of our nation.
We're going on down to the demos today
to give thanks to those who put terrorists away.