Best Working Man Poems
A Hard Working Man
Many days have gone by and still I hear you across from the depot
There you sat on a bar stool and took off your ring
Thought I'd try to get a closer look, so I walked on over
As I sat down and started to ask him his name
Then the drinks finally had an effect on him
He then blurted out, " I say I'm no quitter!"
But I finally quit living on dreams.
I tell you I'm so hungry for laughter, for here and ever after
I am after whatever comes to me each and every other to which life has to offer.
Then I took an impish glance in the mirror and watched him
In an instant, I thought he had looked so out of place.
Then he turned and glanced my way and sat down beside me;
For an instant, a strange look was seen on his face
His huge hands were immensely calloused
He was one mighty mountainous of a man
For one moment I felt so out of place and had feared.
Then as I turned to leave, his voice had turned to molten lava
Please dear lady, can you spare the time to keep me company?
I just had the worst news so humanly possible, I just lost my papa!
Can you spare an extra hour so we can just sit here and talk;
I promise you I'll never ask you to commit to anything wild and impossible.
One look in his soft brown eyes told me that he could be trusted
Okay, I will stay with you for awhile as long as you stop playing that same song over and over.
Yes, lady, I will accommodate you to whatever you like and offer you a drink and some nice talk.
am a family man
i don't pick up cans
always beer in hand
everyday i make my way
to my van
am a
HARD WORKING MAN
Working from dusk to dawn
Going home worn out
All he wants to do is go to bed and sleep
But he has other things to do
Take a shower and eat
Watch a little television
Read the newspaper
Then he might go to bed
Sleep endlessly
Hear the alarm go off
Time to get up
Getting ready to go back to work
Working from dusk to dawn
…again…
Form:
"Nothing Like A Hard Working Man"
He's a hustler
By all meand
He told me baby
Nothing come to a sleeper but a dream(a dream)
I am your provider
I just need you to be my rider
Promise that you'll be by my side
That you'll always be truthful nothing to hide
I get up everyday,to get out here and grind
I am truly one of a kind
I take care of home,its where i belong
I promise to do everything i can
Because I'm a hard-working man
(Chorus)
You are the other part of my rib
With You it gives me a reason to live
I promise to do all i can, onclude you in all my plans
Make you understand
You may never know why
But to you i promise i , will do all i can
The life of a hardworking man
(Verse2)
Here we go im up and ready
To go to work make it steady
I put on my clothes and spray cologne
You hand me my clothes and my phone.
You admire the hustle i do it for us
You want great things in life
So i have to not subtract but plus
(I mean add)
Got to be there when times get bad
And hard
Got to pull out my hardworking card
Chorus
You are the other part of my rib
With You it gives me a reason to live
I promise to do all i can, onclude you in all my plans
Make you understand
You may never know why
But to you i promise i , will do all i can
The life of a hardworking man
Bridge
Baby i wAnt you
There's nothing i wouldn't do. work hard
Everyday
Just to see that smile on your face
Baby i want you There's noting i woudnt do
Work hard everyday
Just to see that smile on your face
(Chorus)
You are the other part of my rib
With You it gives me a reason to live
I promise to do all i can, onclude you in all my plans
Make you understand
You may never know why
But to you i promise i , will do all i can
The life of a hardworking man
Repeat until chorus fades
Written by:Concetta Hardnett
7/9/17
Stiff joints,
Tired to the bone,
For mere coins,
I work all alone,
Rough hewn hands,
Tarnished by labor,
While times slipping sands,
... Erode this old trader,
Get a little ahead,
Then quickly fall behind,
What more can be said,
Abound trudging this old grind,
I give all I can,
They take more away,
Until left in my hand,
Is less than yesterday,
How can this be,
How can I survive,
When all I can see,
Is barely staying alive,
There's no promise for me,
No hope of retiring,
There's no future I see,
Except one of perspiring,
Where is the hope,
When this road is endless,
How can I cope,
When I am left defenseless,
No dreams can I see,
No prayers answered today,
But I work endlessly,
To find a way one day,
To find answers,
Answers to my prayers,
Where hope finally swears,
To live up to my cares,
And hope blooms,
From the hopeless life,
Which fills this room,
Bringing me such strife,
And should this prayer,
Be answered by God,
I know that I'll swear,
To give him all I've got,
But I know this is just,
A passing dream of mine,
And I will do what I must,
To keep towing the line,
And I know the Lord,
Has others with greater needs,
So he can not afford,
The time to fool with me,
An old salty soul,
Who is truly lost and sad,
But this is my role,
And it really isn't all that bad...
by My Gull Wheels On
a.k.a. Michael Wilson
Living through the raging storm
I am battered yet still alive
Thankful for God’s grace
which help’s me to survive
At times it seem’s the darkness
is going to take my life
But I hold on through the turmoil
with visions of my children and my wife
It is my duty to protect them
Until I take my final breath
I refuse the path of failure
and will crawl from the jaws of death
No one will step up to protect them
Or guide in the provisions I’ve set aside
Many would come as vultures
taking advantage as they cried
I fight hard in this battle
But is not for my own life I do so
Sometimes would be far easier
If I accepted t’is my time to go
It’s not for king or country
or the rich who make the rules
Nor for any social society
who anoint’s these clamoring fools
I press on now to find my victory
Claiming neither fortune or any fame
I do the task required of me……
any loving man would do the same
It’s in great times of turmoil
the important things come to light
My job is to serve my family
and I’ll do so with all my might.
Darrell
( I don’t seem to be able to use a ‘ in my titles I adjusted the title from. “ A Working Man’s Poem)
. Suggestions ?
This man cannot grasp
His task at hand.
With fervor he tries
Diligently.
Trying, working, his
Sweat soaks his brow.
It is getting dark.
What will he do?
He tries to finish
But, can’t get it.
The sun sets, time runs
Out, defeated.
Time to pack it in.
He bows his head.
Maybe next time, he
Thinks to himself.
With a last big sigh,
He lays to rest.
For soon the morning
Breathes new attempts.
WORKING MAN
he worries a lot
about income
as though money
had anything to
do with poetry
he claims to work
for me and the
family
and cannot figure
out why we are
not grateful
we would still talk
when he could feel
before selfishness
made us all thieves
afraid of death
he kills himself
with work
just to be safe
keeping his passions
on the side
leaving a surrogate
family
lonely and disarmed
© Kim van Breda—28 April 2015
He wakes every morning before the rooster crows
He gets up and puts on his work clothes
He moves a little slower
His smile hangs a little lower
He knows he’s getting older
He can feel it in his shoulders
Not one to complain
He works through the pain
He doesn’t mind
It’s all part of the daily grind
He does what he does
All for the ones he loves
This man cannot grasp
His task at hand.
With fervor he tries
Diligently.
Trying, working, his
Sweat soaks his brow.
It is getting dark.
What will he do?
He tries to finish
But, can’t get it.
The Sun sets, time runs
Out, defeated.
Time to pack it in.
He bows his head.
With a last big sigh,
He lays to rest.
Maybe next time, he
Thinks to himself.
Another Day
Another dollar
That's what I get
For, I'm blue collar
Working hard
For all the bosses
Sitting upstairs
In the office
Grab a coffee
On the way
do the same stuff
every day
nothing changes
It's routine
That's the way
It's always been
I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man
Twenty minutes
and two breaks
That is all
The time I take
Sneak a smoke
When I can
This is the life
Of a working man
Old and rusted
two tone truck
Always busted
Just my luck
Working hard
To make a dollar
It's the lot
of a blue collar
I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man
The Working Man
Should have been born with a dorsal fin
That was made to stand proud
Only for time and oppression to cause it fail
Oh, tilikum, we weep
The working man is made to perform
His painted smile so fake
To please his masters, to earn his food
Oh, tyke shot 80 times, we weep
His fighting spirit tamed at the end of a payslip
kept lashed to desk or lathe
watching the time tick away
Tatiana roared just once more, we weep
Man was not made to dance for the man
To count his blessing for heat and to eat
To watch his time on earth deplete
Oh, Stephen, you are the working man. I weep.
Pray for the Working Man
The one with calloused hands
Who has often been forgotten
On the roadside of life's demands
The one that's seen faltering
At every juncture, every step
The one that seems to get it
But hasn't got it yet
Pray for the Working Man
As he fights for what little's left
Doing daily battles
With the thoughts inside his head
In what alone he would have been
Or in the past he could have said
So that his quotas are met
Pray for the Working Man
working man
early, six days
before dawn
while I, still curled
warm in bed, listen
he leaves
whispers goodbye
as he passes my door.
every day
as the noon whistle blows
I carry his lunch pail
we sit surrounded by scents
wood, varnish, turps
sunlight washing over us
sandwiches, hot tea and stories.
at night I wait
perched on the stoop
watch him stride
down our street
swinging his arms
dusk crosses the avenue
behind him
a tram bell clangs
gaslights flicker on
in rows of windows.
we are the engines
he says
we make the world
move forward.
The working man had five sons
He had dreams of what they would become
The eldest was not very strong
And he weakness meant he didn't last long
The next son in line had a ruthless streak
And he was able to make his life complete
The third eldest was the middle man
And he would sit astride any disagreement
This cost him more than he cared to admit
And in the end he made a hash of it
The fourth son just wanted to laugh and sing
And saw this as his style with no future plans to bring
The number five son was the youngest one
And had a ride that was easy spoiled with fun
Once you have seen this all out in the state of play
The working man's plans for sons had gone astray.
© Paul Warren Poetry