Best Promotions Poems


Premium Member With Each Morning's Promise

Reflections of pink, and gold on heaven’s floor, 
A hint of memories that came millenniums before, 
And the radiance of God’s glory, from the heart's core, 
Is a new dawn, for our taking.

In these shades of light, a narrative is spun, 
Of women's strength and battles won, 
For rights to choose, for equality won't be shun, 
With each morning, a world's foundation shaking.

They rise for autonomy, their voices clear, 
For choices over bodies, a future sincere, 
Where decisions are theirs, with no shadow of fear, 
With each morning, a new dawn's awakening.

Equal pay, a demand that echoes wide, 
Breaking the chains of wage gaps, side by side, 
A future where worth isn't unfairly denied, 
With each morning, a brighter horizon breaking.

Promotions earned through merit and skill, 
Not hindered by gender, a world to fulfill, 
A future where glass ceilings shatter at will, 
With each morning, progress relentless and unshaking.

Hope whispers of change, with each sunrise, 
A world where justice and fairness arise, 
Where women's rights, like the sun, shall rise, 
With each morning, a future resolute for the taking.
© Jay Narain  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, rights, women,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Anonymously Sold

It happened back in time, quite a long way,
Back in the day, as they today like to say:
An era when most donations to yeshivas**      **Rabbinical academies, often
Didn't require much of a man's pay--                with a preparatory high school 
$18, $36, $54 at the most--
If you gave $100, you could really boast...

Annual banquets were different, however,
Promotions for them being quite clever,
Promising 'Full-Page Ads,' 'Silver-Page' and even 'Gold,"
All for a relative pittance, truth be told:
For a $180, $250 or $360 fee
Your good name would be trumpeted constantly,
With great pomp, dignity and high pedigree.

As 'a mere teacher in a yeshiva,' my own ads 
Were quite modest: $50 for a quarter-page,
To pen something brief, but sage
About the yeshiva I toiled for out of love, not a wage.

So one year, quite way back in the day,
Imagine my surprise, my happiness, my elation,
     Then my CONCERN and my SHOCK!...
...When browsing the banquet adbook journal ad hoc,
Just to see if anyone had penned a kind word about me,
I came upon THREE ADS, "Thanking Mr. Wolf," all paid for in Gold,
For over a thousand dollars! they had been ANONYMOUSLY sold. 

The blood drained from my face; I felt faint and quite dizzy.
The room swam in circles, my nerves on edge, in a tizzy.
I looked around in amazement; who might have done it?
I spotted the adbook's creater, the man who had run it.
  "Far be it from me to reveal the secret," he intoned.
   'I don't deserve such a great honor,' I felt in my bones.

In the days to come, I asked everyone in town,
Yet no one would admit that he had plunked down
$1,080 to sing my praises to the world of the yeshiva,
To pay tribute to me like some big star or great diva.

So I had to give up my crusade as 'Super-Sleuth,'
Had to graciously acknowledge what seemed to be the truth,
That the anonymous parents of one of my students
Had been sincerely thankful that I was teaching their youth.
Categories: promotions, appreciation, education, how i
Form: Narrative

Premium Member My Worth

My worth is not in what I own -
In real estate, or company,
Big car or boat, prized jewelry,
Investments that have grown.

My worth is not in what I do -
The job I work, or what I’m paid
Awards, promotions, deals I’ve made;
How nice the office view.

My worth is not in art I make -
A poem or melodious line,
A bridge or building I design,
Or photos that I take.

My worth exists externally –
In God, my wife, daughter and sons.
My worth is measured in the ones
I love and who love me.
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, children, family, jobs, love,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


A Main Target

Benefit,
A Nature of trade,
Business,
Utilization of skills,
To produce goods,
For a maintenance,
A Chain of Supply,
The prosperity of demand,
Business has a main target,
A person managed for it.

Weapons,
A trade mark,
For a safety,
And for a crime,
If a soldier uses it,
Demand is permitted granted,
If it is useful for civil,
What is crime reduction?
Is it not useful?
For promotions.

If weapons are for safety,
That’s are for Army,
Weapons are useful,
If an enemy threats, 
Someone’s National Security,
If corrupted officers,
Helps smugglers to smuggle weapons,
Is it not a challenge for peace?
Is it not in use for promotions?
High crime-rate is whose demand?

Do you want to live in peace?
Ask them for weapon’s ban,
Civil liberty has no meaning,
Until weapons are in civil hands.
Nobody can control crime rate,
Nobody can stop demand,
Nobody can challenge supply,
Nobody can see a benefit is threat,
A danger for peace,
A danger for civil liberty.
Categories: promotions, devotion, education, faith, children,
Form: Verse

Writers Delight

Legends were created here within script 
edges required in content to carefully encrypt
Breaking harmonic rules outside the norm 
Retaking realities in rhythmical uniform 
Baptized them in the atmospheric emotions
Arising with the highest of promotions 
Alternating serpentine infinite possibilities
Berating  permanent utilized abilities  
Ultimately a writers utopic dream
Poetically elites the extremists regimes
extravagant twisted expressed passions
Adamant cremation of foes into ashes
Unforgiving soldiers to the death fight 
Dreaming dreams in a writers delight
Categories: promotions, dream,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Son Scotttie

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear son Scott
You can bet your sweet darn bippy I am
Proud as one of them peacocks

Turned out to be a guru
In the fast paced world of computers
There ain't no problem my Scottie can't solve
Nuttin' can stump my Scooter

Destined to make big bucks
In the fast paced world of promotions
Not too long fore he's living on easy street
People will say what's this commotion

The commotion will be my Scottie
Setting the pharmaceutical world on fire
With ingenious solutions to all their problems
Reaching goals to which I aspired

Was once a guru like Scooter
Was a whole lot different in those days
No computers, just a big bunch of magic markers
Creating ads the old fashioned way

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear Scooter boy
You better believe it, I'm over the top thrilled
He's my absolute pride and joy!


Do you think I'm a proud Papa?
Categories: promotions, dad,
Form: Rhyme


Look Spoken and Served

Look, Spoken & Served

            I myself with Oneness, sorting through this mess and disaster, 
              With truthfulness, bringing faster, craftier, eternal factors,
                    Smells like hell departing with ignorant laughter, 
                             Through the storms of days after,
        Into the good news, from the one who knew darkness to outlast ya,
                          With a staunch persona, don’t compare,
                    To any man’s power, its conscious power shared,
                 The brains awake, causing good and evil to circulate,
            Like internal relations, neglect their sight in this earthquake,
                   Swords of wisdom to the hater, in another verse,
            Seeking wise knowledge through this hell for what it’s worth,
                                   Look, spoken and served,
                Clutch another word fighter putting steps to the word, 
                     These are the seeds, Skater styled proverbs,
              The unrighteous pay a ransom to get what they deserve,
                        Bang on about a lord, confined to a cell,
            Subatomic waves sell by wearing a pleasant array real well,
              The exterior can be the teacher, but distortion can spray,
                Like featured deep riddles badly retreat and reach ya,
                  Indestructible feature, I’m the narrator you select, 
           In company with the Upper Deck, I don’t neglect or disrespect,
              The heavens and earth combined, the ultimate divine line,
           The one percenters, promotions of evil grandeur in the airtime,
                     Bear in mind my rhymes, the tools of my trade,
                Aid my veins, insane in this game I came, this is a raid,
          Played out conscious praise in the day, when dues will all be paid.

                                                 Quincy Mac
date written: 4.12.2015
© Quincy Mac  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, dedication, imagination, meaningful, slam,
Form: Epic

Faith Unfaithful Kept Him Falsely True

The Magna Carta gave birth to morality, 
The first one in 1215 to constrain King John,
Who could steal anyone’s cart, normality, 
Because he was not a giver of life’s song. 

Truth pertains to morality: right and wrong, 
And we all know it’s inside us and is spritely, 
But believers in god, some of them belong,
To groups not of love, but of hatred tightly. 

Because they’re going upwards to heaven, 
We’re all in our diversities going to visit hell,
No promotions, no nights out or legs eleven, 
For the friends, relations of those with tell. 

He was faithful to god in his own small mind, 
And that was all that mattered, not my health, 
Asking slyly for post-validation, for a look kind, 
Moral fibre was not in his compass, his wealth.
Categories: promotions, bible, freedom, health, power,
Form: Quatrain

I Forgive You

I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy 
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the 
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his 
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.

I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's 
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless 
widows
And lynch witches in  the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious 
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with 
college.

I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.

I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.

To my White brothers who think we 
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to 
kill my people
I forgive you.

To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow 
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in 
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.

To my colleagues fighting for 
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless 
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.

To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.

Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.
© Myq Wudz  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, forgiveness
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Scooter

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear son Scott
You can bet your sweet little bippy I am
Proud as one of them peacocks

Turned out to be a guru
In the fast paced world of computers
There ain't no problem my Scottie can't solve
Nuttin' can stump my Scooter

Destined to make big bucks
In the fast paced world of promotions
Not too long fore he's living on easy street
People will say what's this commotion

The commotion will be my Scottie
Setting the pharmaceutical world on fire
With ingenious solutions to all their problems
Reaching goals to which I aspired

Was once a guru like Scooter
Was a whole lot different in those days
No computers, just a big bunch of magic markers
Creating ads the old fashioned way

Go ahead, ask me
Am I'm proud of my dear Scooter boy
You better believe it, I'm over the top thrilled
He's my absolute pride and joy!


© Jack Ellison 2013

Do you think I'm a proud Papa?
Categories: promotions, family, love, world,
Form: Quatrain

Shopaholic

Mall, Boutique, Department store treasures to my commercial heart do speak  
Must frequent all to earn preferred status and join the frivolous clique
Glitzy curtains, fragrant candles, gaudy clothes through glamorous show windows peak
Sales, promotions, every-day values entreat any time during the week
Checks, petty cash start the extravaganza; plastic cards extend the streak
Nick knacks, valuables, and everything in between must seek
To grand openings, holiday giveaways, early previews, away I sneak
Revelling through posh galleries, gilded show rooms in the presence of chic manequins so sleek
Reconnoitering new fashions, suave styles, designer wears so sheek
Through crowded aisles, up squeaky escalators, into narrow corridors not for the meek
With such dedication, resolve, and passion you dare call me weak
My cabinets are stuffed, my closets are packed, my halls are cluttered; but I'm no freak
Categories: promotions, people
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Felix Seely: a Spoon River Poem

Now there are special classes for those like me--
                    "special-needs" people. That sounds so much  
	            kinder than the harsh terms in use when I was
	            alive: "retarded," "not bright." The people in
	            my little Southern hometown seemed to think
	            such descriptions were acceptable if they were
	            accompanied by "Bless his heart!" 	           
                    Oh, they didn't think I heard, but I did.
                    Most "normal" people in town really loved me;
                    others simply couldn't hide their pity.
                    While those around me went to school and college,
                    played their sports, married, had families, and 
	            went to work, I learned from them, my family, and the
	            town. As I loved the Lord and people, laughed, lived,
                    and grew wise in my own way, I observed some who
	            lived good lives--busy, but not too busy to care and
	            listen. From my sheltered spot, I watched others
                    as they multi-tasked, made money, got promotions,
                    built big houses, and drove expensive cars,
                    but never really listened to anyone except superiors,
 	            who demanded their allegiance. These people
                    failed to care until they couldn't care.

	            Pity "normal" folks with hardened hearts, unseeing eyes, 
	            and unhearing ears--the ones who pity those like me.


entered in Skat A's Premiere Contest Number 13 on September 24, 2016
Categories: promotions, community, joy, life,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member One's Own Slipstream

One’s Own Slipstream
                    by Odin Roark

Movement frozen
Knows of risks in waiting.

Three lanes,
Seven lanes,
Life’s autobahn,
Always beckoning,
Seduction to follow.
Isn't that what it's all about?

Starting way back…

A grade school playground,
Force takes power.
To stay on side lines,
Failure.
The longing to steer into the "follow" lane,
Surge to the power's fast lane,
Grab the pull,
The bully in front,
Breaking resistance,
Its girth of momentum unstoppable.
You glimpse for the first time…Free rides,
No risk,
Cocooned safety.

School yards,
I-Hop revisits,
GPA encroachment,
Graduation,
Freedom,
Pedal to the metal.

"The World is a Vampire"
You know not,
Not yet.

The interview
The job
The greater pull,
Fast lane in view,
Entrance ramp available.

Quintessential speed…yes.

Follow the leader,
Rise to the top,
Meet the power,
Meet the future spouse,
Ah,
The speed,
The even greater pull,
The free ride really looks free.

Perpetual hang-overs follow…

The grind,
The history,
The babies,
The promotions,
The divorces,
The...
The...

Finally the peace…

The return,
The dirt roads,
The two wheeled bike,
The ruts,
The flats,
The...
The...

Discovering one’s own slipstream,

Nirvana.
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, innocence, life,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Limerick Crochet: Once Budding Writer Took Private Tuition

Limerick crochet: Once budding Writer took private tuition

Once budding Writer took private tuition
Father wished him a Man of Distinction
He got straight As in school
No one thought him a fool
At higher studies won commendation

Got high-paying job in government
Promotions to highest firmament
Wished to be great writer
Looked around for tutor
Who showed the way out of predicament

“First enrol in creative writing schools
Where Shakespeare and Cervantes are thought fools:
They didn’t take tuition
Abhorred imitation –
Follow our advice and drool out stools!”

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: promotions, irony,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member "hi Honey! I'M Home!"

"Hi honey! I'm home!"  A greeting that will be heard in many homes tonight!
Hubby will be kissed by his lovely wife and he'll hug her, oh, so tight!
The kids clamber for a hug and kiss as he asks, "How was school today?"
Even Slug the pup barks and Simba the cat purrs, each to have his say!

His wife fixed his favorite meal of meat loaf, peas and mashed potatoes,
Raspberry tea, cherry pie ala mode and, oh, yes, there were fresh tomatoes!
Father said the grace thanking Him for their food and His Creation,
And asked for protection for military folks who defend this great nation!

After dinner they relaxed on the deck with a drink to watch the setting sun.
The kids chased lightning bugs on the lawn at dusk having loads of fun!
Later, the cat and dog cuddled on the hearth and the kids were tucked in bed.
Daddy read a few fairy tales - then the children's prayers were said.

Alas, across the world in foreign lands other Daddies won't be home tonight.
The only thing that they will hug is their M-16 and carry on the fight.
They'll wolf down a tasteless MRE and be greeted by the Sergeant's shout:
"Get ready for another midnight patrol - now everybody out!"

He's not concerned about promotions and medals for laurels won.
He just pines for his family's fond embrace when his tour is done.
Oh, glorious, heavenly day when he's back home never more to roam!
Oh, glorious day when he bounds thro' the door saying, "Hi honey! I'm home!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories: promotions, familywife, home, cat, day,
Form: Rhyme
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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