Best Working Class Poems

Average high school
Namesake 
A mediocre 
President
Imposing square box
Towering over small frame homes
Where Mothers wait behind closed doors
And Fathers return at dusk
Newspapers tucked under
In different signs and languages 
Sport side up
In blue collar tradition.
French teacher listens
Eyes shifting from side to side
As we read
In our best French...

Continue reading...

The working Class Hero

From town to town, all across this great land,
You can see the work of a laboring hand.
Not many know their name,
But in my eyes they are heroes just the same.
From driving a nail to driving a stake.
They have pride in what they...

Continue reading...

He's stuck with a working class mind
And grooves in the working class grind
And walks down the working class street
Where the mud sticks under his feet.

Always working to pay the rent
Or the interest on the mortgage lent
Living for the football game
So the weekend just grinds the...

Continue reading...

The working Class Woe (nihilism)

If I were a working class boy living today in a big city,  with little interest in academic studies, 
I would have found little and no opportunities for work. For my grandfather it was more easy, 
back then the world...

Continue reading...

I.	Daybreak

what glint of morning
is this where the rusty bloom of chain link fences
cuts the turf of rowhouses

the weeds still talk with the legs
of crickets as the post-dawn moon
fades like a bubble

here the old Norges and RCAs 
the transmissions extracted like tongues
make tombstones in the yard

the...

Continue reading...

In the cold 
they do their work 
   The work is of utmost importance 
  Buildings, churches, synagogues and parks 
all exsist due to the sweat and blood of the workers
They must continue to do their work 
  So the city...

Continue reading...

Wrinkles and twinkles and wind colored cheeks
callused old feelings well hidden

Take a ride in Old Vermont across the covered bridges
Wander through the woods of Maine on down east running ridges 
Stop and face the hard won life See to feel the work the strife
Recognize to...

Continue reading...

Greatest is the servant’s slave to the pope
the good looking still carries a dry throat
such living is washed with a costly soap
to break a jinx right from ancestral coat
value’s attached to every mess and rag
people of this class just live and manage
a rare light may...

Continue reading...

The world is full of working class heroes
Made up of every gender, shape and size.
Inspiring everyone, their strength bestows
They become the backbone of enterprise.

My father was my working-class hero
He passed on his ethics, in his workshop.
Urging each person to learn and to grow
Without them, trade...

Continue reading...

Working class zero.


The art of poetry is to write what you are thinking;
The best poetry sometimes, comes without you needing to think.
I write from the soul 
And sometimes I use my subconscious mind to do my bidding;
Sometimes I study my target,
To become better at performing...

Continue reading...

I think I hear a train,
better stop, look, and listen,
I must take precautions here,
is there something I am missing?
People talking, but not making any sense,
nothing seems as it should,
now the bad is tolerated,
and doing away with the good.
Laws protect the outlaws,
money passing hands way to...

Continue reading...

I walk these many streets

I walk this path of stone

I hunger for a life

That I can call my own

I'm a slave to my job

I'm a slave to this town

I'm a slave to the system

That strives to keep me down

I owe money for my house

I owe...

Continue reading...

Working class Poet 

It had been a long day at the factory but
when there was a break he jotted down a few words
and during the day it became a poem- he always
had a pen and block ready words were so flighty he may
forget what he...

Continue reading...

I am the American worker
coal fired for refined thieves
on the thirty first floor.

My secrets rest
roadside beyond the guardrail
where ditched alleys
lead to rowhouses.

A list of porches
repeating  to each other
the economics of wear.

My secrets shuffle
moon-side with motors
in gear.

A scourge of trucks
that drone and stab the night.

My...

Continue reading...

He wakes very morning
to trudge through his day
a labor of love
or just bills to pay?
it seems that forever
he's been burdened with debt
and retirement a time to reflect
or regret?
She awakes every morning
to labor all day
kids are in day care
there's really no choice
no other way
the bank accounts...

Continue reading...