Long Employer Poems
Long Employer Poems. Below are the most popular long Employer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Employer poems by poem length and keyword.
I want you to come to me
With all the reasons good.
With nothing much to worry about,
Less to be misunderstood.
I want you to look at me
With love and care and hope.
I want you to read my eyes,
Where words find little scope.
I want you to be heard 'midst all
And spread the dew of love.
I want you to be happy with me,
Though much is thrust from 'bove.
I guess am not wrong after all,
In chasing my dreams long born.
I want you to be a part of this,
My heart's no room for scorn.
Give me a break for a while,
I want to be alive with you.
In laughter, party, participate,
At times am a lot bit screwed.
I love to see you tenderly work,
With passion etched on your frown.
I want to hear your breath release,
Satisfaction and music around.
I give no word of mine I know,
You held a better score.
I want you to touch my life--
Leaving me to wait for more.
The Unjust Legal Chain
Across the sea, the promises were bright:
A chance to work, to send the money home,
To lift a family, build a future right,
Leaving the soil of Africa to roam.
Hidden in the shade could be fight or flight
They boarded flights with hope packed in their chests,
To sweep the floors and serve a distant land,
To trade their youth at poverty's behest,
And place their fates into a stranger's hand.
For some, varied as a palace, a dog hound at best
But golden sands can hide a heavy chain,
Where contracts bind the spirit to the floor
The Kafala becomes a wall of pain,
Locking the world outside a heavy door.
Dilemma awaits, knocking like a trouble chain
A passport taken at the very start,
An employer who holds the right to stay,
It breaks the body and it tests the heart,
Through endless hours that swallow up the day.
Even offered rest on a hard floor mat
In quiet kitchens, far from any friend,
They nurse the bruises, wipe away the tears,
And wonder when the isolation’s end
Will come to rescue them from all their fears.
At this moment, no relative, no acquaintance and no friends
The silent walls hear whispers of a home,
Of children waiting for a mother’s voice,
While trapped beneath a cold, uncaring dome,
Stripped of their rights, their freedom, and their choice.
Trapped in a luxury but loveless, heartless home
Yet through the shadows, hidden voices speak,
And sisterhoods are formed in secret spaces.
The laws are shifting, slowly, for the weak,
As nations start to look at broken places.
Even primordial callousness, Kafala speak-s
For dignity is not a prize to buy,
And human worth can never be confined;
Beneath the vastness of the desert sky,
The captive spirit will not stay behind.
If this was gold, even dry deserts gods won't buy
Back in the day, to earn my way
I added minutes to callings cards for which clients would pay
To avoid impropriety
Their address was required for security.
One day a gentleman called in named Neal,
But his address he would not reveal!
"I don't understand," he whined, "why do you pry?"
"Sir," I said, "it's just something we must verify."
"Well, I think you're invading my privacy!"
"Sir, my employer requires it for legitimacy-
Since the credit card number is already stored,
it's to confirm the charge is above-board."
At this he sniffed and then claimed
The address was still the same
As the one listed under his name.
I sighed, "Sir, I may just be a clerk,
But it must be specific, 'It's the same,' just won't work."
Around and around on this point we went
Until my patience was tapped, my energy spent.
"So, Neal," I said to end the fight,
"I show it is 72 Moss St, is that right?"
"Yes, it is," he agreed immediately.
"Now that's funny, I don't see how that could be,
Since that's MY address, and I know you don't live with me!"
"Oh, um-" click! and there the call ended-
But that wasn't my address, I only pretended!
7/30/18
Fool Me Once contest
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
Keep spying my words disgruntled
I hope the strain is paining you
the day that I confronted
entitled it’s your job to do
How’s your income
How’s your nerve
here it comes
what you deserve
Reading my words
thinking hard
What will he do
What will he carve
The position way above your head
never should have been given it
now you have a position again
given because you were given then
I should tell your employer
I know you lied to get this job
a people and a soul destroyer
you haven’t really got a lot
Intelligence isn’t evident
and school you never went
A tool who learns a set routine
thinking their the best that’s been
I have the upper hand now
and I will always have it
and you should know just this
It’s nothing more than poetic justice
How’s your income
How’s your nerve
here it comes
what you deserve
I told you I’d have the last word
Donald trump = pathological psychopath
Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ass,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous
Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar
flaunting, fleecing, and flipping the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle
any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay
whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)
Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger
to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged
his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!
A deal-killer was needed to prevent a disaster,
the service company couldn't exist anymore
if the president hadn't taken a lower bid;
it had relied on the work force for over twenty years,
and it could have hurt the employees who needed an increase,
rather than the employer who had a constant cash flow.
They had to make a choice...accept and sign the new contract,
and stay in business for another five years, or more;
from the looks on everybody's face, it didn't sound pleasant,
but who would have chosen the unemployment line?
The employer felt terribly for the bad deal-killer, but also a relief
saving thousands of jobs around Christmastime.
To compensate the workers for their loyalty, the employer offered them
a monthly bonus and open overtime for everybody willing to work hard,
so that deal-killer proved to be extremely beneficial...
coming at a time when extra cash could have brought more gifts
that they couldn't afford in the first place, had the deal-killer been denied...
and they wouldn't have wished one another, " Happy Holidays! "
Those of us living in the USA
too often hear Republican capitalist dogma
of The Great Trickle Down Theory,
in which those who have most
must get more first
so they can hire more who have least,
although perhaps without proficient wage
and without health care if avoidable,
to spread capitalizing wealth around
so we can become better day and night spenders
on all the thneeds and trinkets offered
in exchange for our consuming lives.
And so it was with raised eyebrows
I heard Donald Trump explain
to us unwashed and un-self-insuring masses,
that he paid so very little income taxes
because it is his sacred duty
to himself
his family
his stockholders,
corporately invested infesters,
to pay as little tax and operating fees as legally possible
so there is more to hoard,
and less and less to trickle out.
So, I guess this carries some tension
with Trickle Down,
becoming, more accurately,
The Upper Caste Constipated
minimal trickling out
of capital hoarding.
But, just in case you are listening, Donald,
which I know you are not,
but maybe some more responsible Republican employer,
I am quite sure that Wharton never spoke this lie
that you have any legal, much less moral, obligation
to retain as much wealth as possible
to re-invest in further corporate greed
to act as little trickling out as possible
while speaking in loud nationalistic patriotic
Trickle Down and Out!
to all us little people,
someday
Preferably after this year's self-congratulatory pay out,
made possible by all us humble caregivers
opening your golden ballroom doors for tips
and cleaning your several stressed toilets,
where yellow and brown
too slowly trickle down.
Facebook stories I leave for the boss,
You ruined a life, it’s your loss.
Think I’m bluffing,
I had things to do
after you
I do nothing
Two times you convinced girls I like to avoid me,
Changed my reputation so no one liked me,
Slandered and harassed after and before I was sacked,
illegally, you reading me, bully,
You f**ked my head buzzing as you attack
turning all against me, behind my back
Nervous breakdowns mental breakdowns
Depression anxiety I was destroyed and lonely
You ever taken the whole packet of sleeping pills
I didn’t even do anything, obsessed to own me
or was it that complaint letter about you
when you blamed everyone but you
and I told everyone it was you,
management material, my dear you're delude,
became power mad and entitled you're mentally ill
you were SACKED you did things that were illegal
you should be in prison told people I’m sick and evil.
Every job you get I’m getting you sacked.
This is the last thing I do, I ain’t going back,
last thing I have left to do all tied up in a bow,
13 years my head didnt know, does now, cheerio.
all I have to do is tell your employer to ring head office,
sacked, evil little sprog, it's why you left Bath, I've still gotcha.
people think I put on a show for them,
attention sympathy oh get lost
it's about me getting her and only that,
don't ever mention it too me please,
don't give me your attention or time,
I'm used to no one just me and mine
Bubbling babbling burbling banter brimming at the bar
First sup.. hush…memory lane trip rush..nicely tickled
Plush lace ebbed…lush beer swirls race webbed
Whirls..down dimpled dappled jar....nicely pickled
Pagans perch….sip druid fluid drip…Iris’s secular church
Trumpet tradition.. beacons blush in embers of the past
Cluttered classy cast of polished pewter..ballsy brass
Whimsy wafting across tobacco tinted tainted times
Parched patrons quaffing while cavorting with crannies
Carousing with nooks sporting timber flannelled panels
As sons then become dad..on the same pews with their lad
Lawyer betwixt a tyro…local employer..bumpkin on the giro
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink misplaced metaphors
Laced with a house pour of moreish memories of before
Gracious Landladies…loquacious landlords near and far..
Who let us roam in our home from home we raise our jar
To every special space.. familiar face in that third place..ta
I am not talking about the movie but a psychological phenomenon.
People have a sixth sense that guides your daily decisions.
You don’t know you have it, as it’s based in your subconscious mind,
Where past experiences and mistakes record as clear visions,
However your conscious mind only registers these memories as part of a picture.
It guides you to turn a specific way when you have never been there before,
When meeting someone new, like my future husband, made me realize he was who I would marry.
I haven’t seen God but he/she must exist as I’ve seen work that only a supreme being can do.
It helps you to contact a potential employer just the right time for a job interview.
For others, it may be getting a feeling of foreboding prior to a bad experience or
It’s knowing that your child is really sick without any clear symptoms.
It is why someone chooses a specific profession and they end up being really good in that job.
When a decision must be made, you somehow just know how to make it.
Our reactions are based on our modified memories and subliminal sounds.
Some call this a hunch, gut-reaction, while others call it intuition or instinct.
I believe it is our sixth sense and one of our most important characteristics of humans,
It is what makes us choose the fork in the road less travelled.
Makes us second guess our decision or just know that it is the right decision.
Somehow knowing from the moment our feet hit the floor, it is a good day and things will be alright.
Written July 29, 2011
Contest "Who am I"
Placement 10th