Best Worktime Poems
Like a warm cotton bud used to give inner ears a clean
there is something comforting about routine.
Knowing where you stand and the order of play,
knowing what to expect at every point in your day.
Living to a schedule, everything has it’s time and place -
knowing the slots you have free for any plans you need to make.
Wardrobe colour-coded, in garment order.
Wallpaper with a matching border.
Appointments at ten to, five to, on the dot.
Check, double-check, the doors are locked.
Yellow ball, green ball then pot the brown.
Big box, little box, upside down.
I like to gaze into the sky and dream, of an afternoon.
Relaxing. Like the scent of a chaste tree, when in bloom.
A cold glass of lemonade, a long and foamy bath,
humming along to the radio, a love that warms the heart.
Reading the Sunday paper, and making it an event,
the delightful things the kids say, things only they could invent.
His reputation precedes him: a disruptive, class clown.
Never completes his work, he’s always mucking around.
A big-mouth, show-off with far too much to say:
He asks if I ever considered teaching him in a different way.
‘A physical learner’ - he’s heard about it on the news.
There could be something in it…but I’ve far too much to do.
Cars whiz about, people in a hurry.
“I’ve waited over an hour for my curry.”
Twenty four seven lifestyle, word abbreviation.
Text message becoming the preferred means of communication.
Everybody rushing, to keep on schedule, to maintain status quo.
Everyone a cog in the system: You’re whipped, if you don’t row.
Seamless is the transition between asleep and awake,
when you just let it happen, not worry about being late.
An unrushed project results in a rewarding prize:
taking your time meant you got it right.
So bin the itinerary, flout the rules,
just for once why don‘t you try something new?
31.
Some work day mornings just fill with sour time.
The evenness of the florescent lights is annoying
I see all the familiar faces hating every moment along with me.
A department meeting, how horrifying.
The common voices outlining choices--that have nothing to do with you
Blacken and blue, I must stomach this painful gathering of shrews
A pressured push in the brain
To not let this poison my day
I rely on pleasant memories to carry me away:
The last cherished talk, the phone message from a friend.
I really can’t wait for this meeting to end.
Now my agitation has been noticed.
I am not paying attention--thinking about folly and Ben.
The expression on my face shows rejection
Can she see my recollection of the last time we met?
Crap now I am found out; she must be judging what my whole life is about.
Turn toward her stare, show sincerity and care
Easy now tiger-- and smile--give the moment awhile.
Save face, my Japanese ancestors would say.
I am disciplined, this is work--not time to play.
Don’t let distraction make you her prey.
I'm in a hurry I cannot stay, it seems the time just slips away.
I try so hard to get things done, no time to do it all under the sun.
Deadlines here and deadlines there, so many deadlines everywhere!
I have to work, no time to play, just to get things done today!
Have you ever been a-flying?
Up in the sky so blue?
If you have you've seen the people...
Who provide their service to you.
Flying for them is a profession,
One of service, assistance, and care.
How often I have marveled...
At some of the insensitivity they must bear.
Have you ever been a-flying?
In a plane with silver wing?
If so, you've met the people...
Whose "Attendants" is their thing.
I have seen them courteous and collected,
Even in spite of a boor.
Somehow, you know they're thankful...
When he's finally out the door.
Have you ever been a-flying?
Up above in a crowded plane?
Have you ever wondered...
How those people do not go insane?
Life for them is walking,
Thousands of miles each day.
And with each step on that airplane...
They greet each person the same way.
Have you ever been a-flying?
Up high...more than a few miles?
You must have met the people...
Whose job is to give out smiles.
For courtesy is their profession,
No time to give way to personal vents.
So, next time you get on an airplane...
Be thankful, for the Flight Attendants!
And he pacing about the house
Had all the time to do
The things he lost time for before
To keep the promises
He made to himself in each ritual
Morning of his nine to five
And yet as if disenfranchised by opportunity
This switch of roles landslides his soul
He made the bed with pillows fluffed
Vacuumed the rug, swept the floor
Fed the pet and scoured the bath
And now to do the dishes
He paused the way his mother always did
Having done things in better time
Than all the history he had known
All the days of his unemployment
Was a vortex to a vexing void ... yet
If only he could complain and rinse
His pride, silence drains love of so much
He realized, stoic manhood is a fence,
If only he had time enough
To bring all concerns into convenience,
He could go to the laundry mat too
Without abdicating his internal throne.
It was not the things he had to do
It was the expectation in the eyes
He had known
It is not equal to when he provided
When the personal need of each
Was his responsibility, and he met them
It was more the sorrow in their eyes
The marginalization of his presence
His being taken for granted
That he would clean and pick up
After their inconsiderate selfishness
That left him forgotten
To find a way still to provide
For his own basic need
He paced and paced inside the iron pen
But nothing yield
Read a book, write a poem, start a play
Finish that novel using this experience
Buzzards they were
Circling him
Watching him with a lurid eye.
May we rest, now? Just for an hour, or two?
Twenty four seven, being busy
Doing the million things we do
And now that you type real fast, we are always dizzy!
While your toes do practically nothing
Except dress up in socks and shoes
Our day has no end and no beginning
We’re always in the groove
Conscious or unconscious
At every beck and call
Aware that your time is precious
So we give it our all
Where would you be without us?
Who would scratch that itch?
Maybe time management would end this fuss
End this frenzy before we ditch!
I shall forbear to wile away
My time in discontent.
But with each day,
Endeavor to extract from it,
The good that God has sent.
For though in awe of Him,
Intrepid, I shall strive to be.
Catering not to some earthly whim,
But at a Godly gait, in haste,
Using the time He's given me.
For as sure as each day brings,
With it a rising sun.
So time, the devourer of all things,
Will cause my sun to set
Making my life's work, soon done.