Best Workheart Poems
Poetry is my photographer's way of taking a picture,
my way of capturing the moments our hearts envelope
and need to express. It's a snap shot
of the before, in between and after seen now...
NOW, RIGHT NOW!...
...What - I - felt,
What - she- thinks,
What - he - will - do...
...It encapsulates the heart of each poet's under-
standing for how to bring everything into words,
and focuses the listener into a sure way of receiving
what others mean to roll into your camera.
The seconds passing can now embrace the all
of life AND time for you to have now...
NOW, RIGHT NOW!...
...NOW can have more than the speaker standing
and the now that is spoken, but can release
the imagination to discover the realness of what
connects us all and en frame the totality of
existence into this moment...
As the shutter shuts, you impress into the world ideas...
Ideas like love lost, or an oak tree in mid-autumn...
You can engage your heart to feel united to a teenager
who lived 350 years ago and bring her back to life...
as well as unlock and set free your terminal uniqueness
and end loneliness forever now,
NOW, RIGHT NOW!...
...All you have to do is read and listen
and we can connect to each other....
maybe not this poem, maybe not the next...
let the shares become the film developing,
staying tuned in...
and everything you've ever been waiting to hear
can reach you!
...You can feel oneness with others,
ease the pillar of your soul,
comprehend your inhibitions,
put to rest your cravings,
or set loose your laughter...
...Time can angle your lens and catch what everything
looks like, but a poet can capture and increase
the moods and tones of the photo so you can
FEEL what the picture looks like with one flash...
and cause a picture to breathe....
So......take a deep breathe...
rub yourselves into your clothes....
...feel the texture of all the material,
maybe on your thighs or your shoulders...
..........smile...
go ahead and feel the texture of your own smile...
...SAY CHEESE...
and welcome to the now, NOW...
right now.
You are very attractive dapper and stunning. I despise you because you don’t have
enough room in your heart for me. When you pass a mirror all you see is you. I stand a
foot behind you and look in the mirror hopping that I would be noticeable to you. But
my image you do not consider you are the heart of your world then there’s just me.
Wretched working weekend
Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
twelve hour shifts,
praying for Monday.
Noisy nurse's station,
patients pressing call-lights,
you'd think they'd all be resting,
but instead they're up all night.
With their East Texas accents:
"I need hay-elp" patient cries,
always adding syllables,
"I wet my bay-ed," from 545.
One patient's heart rate's 170,
another's is just 40,
and there's a patient screaming:
"Lordy, Lordy, Lordy."
Constant call-lights beeping,
monitors alarming,
patients demanding Demerol,
isn't my job charming?
600 pound man who
just poops in his own bed,
takes three aides to clean him,
(I'll keep my job instead!)
In 20 there's a drug-seeker,
whose privates are all swollen,
in 30 there's an old man,
with cancer of the colon.
I answer all the call lights,
then page the patient's nurses,
I give them their messages
and listen to their curses.
I'm stuck in the middle,
angry patients on one side,
calling busy nurses
whose frustration they don't hide.
Meanwhile the phones are ringing,
and I have to keep an eye
on 27 EKGS,
so someone doesn't die.
Then the ER calls and
they need three more beds,
the thought of telling everyone
fills my heart with dread.
Well, that's the job I'm doing,
and I guess it could be worse,
every day I'm grateful for the fact
that I'm not a frigging nurse!
And written on top of my sonnet – a note…
Hey babe – working late see you soon…
All those lonely hours...
Writing to capture the thought for what?
A soulful rite...
My life left gashed and dripping as her aimless pen slashed my heart…
The tears cried over each line and verse...
I knew these words would let her see...
The spark carried in this ancient soul displayed just for her...
Even a fool knows that lonely passion serves no more purpose at all...
In the end your heart stands alone...
All those tear stained pages amount to no more than landfill.
Awkward feelings trying to fit into a verse...
My angel, my love, this wounded heart...
Love knows the bounds when it all falls apart.
Heaven please accept this tea stained note for it is lost amongst the living - my heart soon to follow...
It’s been a long, tough ride
And I’ve been working like a Mom
It’s been a long tough ride
My heart is ticking like a bomb
I know my duty it was
To work and manage the house
But soon I’ll feel so lost
When she’s gone
Things will not be the same
When she’s gone
Oh how my heart will grieve
It’s been a long, tough ride
And I’ve been working like a slave
It’s been a long, tough ride
My mind is reeling like a tape
I love my baby so much
I know my heart will be crushed
Yet I will be alright
When she’s gone
Things will not be the same
When she’s gone
Oh how my heart will grieve
It’s been a long tough ride
I should be happy to be free
It’s been a long tough ride
I should dancing in the breeze
But when I think of the world
She has to live in and work
I’ll still be on my knees in prayer
Because it’s scary out there
But we will be alright
It’s been a long tough ride
Entry into John Heck’s Sponsored Contest: “Beatlemania Sing Along”
Sung to “It’s Been a Hard Day’s Night”