Jobsite Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

Premium Member Backfill

The onset of construction
Left a gaping excavation.
They built a chain link fence 
Around the hole.
Once the footers and foundation
Were sufficiently established
A dump truck load of gravel
Did its thing.

I have faith the task 
Will be accomplished.
I have hope the work
Can be efficiently done.
But until I shovel 
All that broken stone 
Into the trench surrounding the slab,
This jobsite won’t be up to building code.

Of the virtues, 
Faith, hope, and charity, 
The only one that requires 
Personal action 
And accomplishes anything 
In this world is charity. 
Faith and hope are mere freeloaders 
That only look after themselves.

Premium Member Jazzy Jezebel Jerry

jazzy jezebel Jerry jabbered generously 
in a jury-loving jerk-water town. 
Her jimdandy jiggery-pokery jingling 
in a jokingly jolly way, at her joyless jobsite,
jiggling jealous jobbers into a juicy jeopardy.

Beachcombing

Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing...

... among the fewest fondest words
     conjuring up simple, sparkling joys
      in a seemingly pointless pastime
       when the whole world of waged work
        wants me to do only that which is
         cost-effective, truly ensuring ROI:

         never mind divine artistry on shells
        and the tide that must have kissed
       the shores of distant continents;
      just trudge to the jobsite enduring
     bone-snapping cold, blistering heat,
...and the indignity of "No ID, No Entry!"

Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing.


Sleepless In Somewhere

Rise and shine!
O?
Where am I?
Yes,
This is my bed?
Good,
Am I here?
Fourteen hours jobsite,
And I made it,
I think?
Okay!
Where did I park myself?
Mega parking lot,
Thousand rolls,
And lost the ticket number of where to look.
Do not go to the mirror,
He keeps laughing at me.
Last thing are love ones near,
No!
Depend on me not,
Need you,
So drive the car,
Just leave me here,
I'll find my way home sooner or later.
Praying the minutes away,
Thoughts,
"Go for the head or just for the kill."
I know there are not two in me,
Seems like a hundred indeed,
And they all want to go back to sleep.
Than I have to stop my pretty little head,
Not getting into me!
Just a figure of speech.
Sleepless in Somewhere,
Am I alone in all this?

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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