Long Cubicle Poems
Long Cubicle Poems. Below are the most popular long Cubicle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cubicle poems by poem length and keyword.
I have a good charade
I can make a step from a stumble
No need to be afraid
Here in the human jungle
When you’ve a good charade
If you’ve a good charade
The tigers will not pounce on you
If you’re camouflaged
The gorillas will not pound on you
If they think you’re a god
You know, a good charade
I have a good charade
I can make a scream sound musical
Learning to make the grade
Here in the giant cubicle
It’s all a good charade
A really good charade
The paperweight is a pacemaker
The conference call, traffic for drugs
The copier is life-support
Lord, let me never be unplugged
And never let them debug
My sweet charade
It’d be a pity to debug
Such a good charade.
I looked around my little cubicle
Used up days months years
Those files lying stacked up
Decades piled up to reach the dream
And here I am about to retire
Most of my life, till then perspired!
The game the goal that made me wait
I watch the setting sun that holds my fate
And like those colours in a twilight sky
I take anew each day each date and try
Moments to savour, cherish, create!
In the storm of life this is the calm
The waters seem still a soothing balm
Time for reflection time to be filled
The solution elusive the outcome unknown
A new chapter to life, who can condone!
12.8.22
Religion has been privatised like gas
I know in church we still can hear the Mass
Yet no Chaplain comes to dying men
I did my best alone without a plan.
Inside the holy sanctuary bare
I became both priest and comforter
I sang the sacred songs and gathered crowds
Outside our little cubicle they bowedL
I saw a canopy of golden cloth
Hanging down from heaven, as it does
It came nearer till it touched his soul
I was silent, love can’t take control
For a moment everything was still
A little bird sat on the windowsill
Then the cloth of gold was lifted high
I wept the precious tears for those who die.
That one eternal moment gave us grace
I see your sunny eyes, your smiling face
I’m excited to head home, and smile in my car with the radio cheering me on.
The echos of everyone’s smiles as I strut out the office.
I would feel the satisfaction of making the world smile.
But really, that’s a daydream.
But really, the office is silent and frowning.
But really, I’m grimacing, alone in my cubicle.
I’m breathing heavy and tapping my feet loudly.
Shifting and creaking my chair.
Trying to stand to go get a drink of water to calm down.
But worried they will be laughing if I walk away for even a moment.
They will think I’m hiding in the bathroom and crying.
Which I do want to do…
So I’m paralyzed.
He walks over and asks how I’m doing.
I smell his coffee and it’s strong and jolts me awake.
I have my work, it’s right on the computer screen!
But I turn around and it’s just letters and words that I aimlessly tapped in.
My day is ruined.
Daydreaming…
About going home.
I’ll leave late after everyone else has left.
Then I can go home and cry.
Jordholmen’s public bath
Back in the days of yore, few people had a shower unit they might have had bathtub that was used once a week when the whole family bathed and the loser was the dad usually with daughters by then the water in the tank was tepid
I friend of mine told of a public bathhouse, near the docks, where one could have shower in cubicle, get a towel and a bar of soap
We ran never walked back then to the bath house called Jordholmen, I didn’t have money for cuibcle, but the lady said I could share a shower with my friend, but she only gave us on towel and one bar of soap; well as a capitalist his used the towel first, but that is nothing new
I came quite attached to this bath house, it was a great change to have wash in a bucket of warm water in the living room by the fire, or in the kitchen in the days of May; we have lost hot water in our house in Cascais, my wife despairs for me it is like the old days warming water cleaning bits and pieces in front of the fire
I wonder, why would someone dig in graveyards in the night
If they knew that I was here, they would get such a fright
A spade digs in the darkness, I can hear but cannot see
Digging in the darkness doesn’t make much sense to me
Could it be that there’s illicit actions going on
Could it be that someone’s got a body they want gone
Still they dig, they’re going deep, I hear the soil shift
I’m in no doubt they’re getting rid of someone that they’ve stiffed
I keep my presence secret as they dig into the ground
Then all at once I hear a slightly hollow wooden sound
They’ve come upon a coffin that they didn’t know was there
A final resting place but they proceed without a care
They should just drop the body in that's needing to be hid
I hold my breath when one of them decides to lift the lid
The moonlight makes me blink and as my bony grin grins wide
I say, ‘Try another cubicle… this one’s occupied.’
14 October 2021
For Contest: Something Spooky
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Freddie the furlough
Sat there with his Merlot
Watching the sun go up and down
While his body got tan and brown
They said they had full control
That is what Freddie the Furlough was told
Sitting in his cubicle one day
They came over to say, ‘you are still going to get pay’
Are you asking me to take an absentee leave?
Despite my hourly wages having not much of a fee
It is time for you to go
They repeated to Freddie the Furlough
You do not need me
I do see
Without a tear
Freddie the Furlough got up having no fear
Tired of all this shtick
Considered office tricks
Freddie the Furlough knew he performed his tasks
Honestly not needing to hide behind any corporate flask
Resulting in wearing the afternoon mask
Freddie the Furlough did not fold
Instead he was pretty bold
In dealing with this feeling of cold
From this job they thought he loved
And in reality the one he was ready to shove
Freddie the Furlough
Finished his Merlot
With enough cash in his tin
And knowing that the day was a win
Entitling Freddie the Furlough to a Jimmy Buffet happy hour fin
How like a prison is my cubicle
How wary is my body on this chair.
How still my heart and yet how truly fickle.
How fast it flies to you who are not here.
How elegant your letters and your thoughts
How gentle was your touch upon my throat.
And yet you killed my words and all I brought...
You were no lover but a randy goat.
As in this mental jail I'm neatly trapped,
I'll use this time to write and also pray.
Perhaps my mind can extricate a map..
From which I'll plot the route to get away.
The prisons which seem external are inside
Yet in such captive grief some folk have died
Her heart was like a clock that I wanted to stop and rewind the dial back.
Remembering the beginning.
Following the curve of ticks as everything around disappeared.
The ticks and tonks that throb as pulse.
The blossom of smiles and times that reflected off glass.
To live in the darkness of closed eyes and reflect on genuine smiles.
The whirlwind of dials advancing into a darkness we both never knew.
A familiar scent becoming a door.
Her heart a clock filled with different size springs and dials.
A circular cubicle that sped fast.
A theory of time.
Her heart was a clock that I wanted to stop and wind back the dial to the beginning.
Across arms and lines that separated how much time has really passed
In the waiting room …
A sea of ashen faces
Women with their partners
We were waiting, just waiting
My name is called
Heart pounding I gather by belonging
My husband gets up …
But he’s told he can’t come in with me
I feel vulnerable and alone
In the little cubicle I undress and put a hospital cape on
Now its time for my mammogram
The machine clamps me tight with a vice like grip
Yes it Shrove Tuesday and is Pancake Day for my right breast!
Thankfully it’s all over very quickly
I sit alone in the waiting area
Waiting, just waiting
Try to do a puzzle but my mind is elsewhere
A door opens and my name is called
Now for the ultrasound
A blob of cooling gel, the scan is painless
Everything looks fine
They tell me I have ‘young breasts’ whatever that means!
Shame about the rest of me I quip and we laugh
Now I need to see the specialist to be examined
So it’s back to the waiting area
Waiting, just waiting
I get called into another room
Mmmm he’s very attractive with brown eyes and greying hair
But I digress!
A quick examination and everything is fine
This time my lump is tissue and is deemed to be benign
02~28~17