Long Employment Poems

Long Employment Poems. Below are the most popular long Employment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Employment poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Feminism

Feminism

Nude women pose, showing off their wares
to thirsty gentlemen with debonair wolf stares,
where money and pedigree stock distinguish
them a cut above the common people; and pricey hookers,
with plastic enhancements pasted in paint, solicit their company. 
And so these permissive women take the lead and allow
others to teach their daughters provocative attitudes
in body use that are pleasing to captive audiences,
who idolize them as talented and beautiful
and intellectually liberated, whatever the perspective.
It is a dangerous degradation of feminism to justify
this mother-daughter relationship that can be infectious,
with historical examples in male-dominated cultures.
Prostitution is not gainful employment nor a profession.
Form: Verse


The End and the Beginning

Fifty five, they made redundant,
Fifty five, with family.
Fifty five, gone in a moment,
Fifty five, and one was me.

Once again the axe is falling,
Current jobs have reached an end.
Profit motives make their calling,
Matter not if foe or friend.

Though I know the world is real,
And before, I’ve felt the axe.
We are not all made of steel,
Some of us can melt like wax.

But like wax, we can be moulded.
Into many different forms.
Just because my job has folded,
Doesn’t mean my spirit’s torn.

I will seek out new employment,
Use my flexibility.
This won’t dampen my enjoyment,
Of what life’s supposed to be.

Family, friends and all that know me.
Know that I can duck and dive.
Watch out world, for I am coming,
Challenge helps my soul survive!

Fifty five, they made redundant,
Fifty five, with family.
Fifty five, gone in a moment,
Fifty five, and one was me.

Ivor G Davies
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Freedom Came In Christmas '68

As well as celebrating Christmas time
two days later every year is my birthday
so that would mean double celebration
leaving one wordless nothing to say

One of the best gifts came aged 15, 1968
then I left school for good never to return
this was great for school days I hated
what joy I felt to leave full of the sun

Even then in 1968, I left one day early
this being my only time played truant did I
especially as all leavers got a gift of shave kit
the embarrassment made one want to die

But school was now in the past
employment into the future now next
such relief no more awful school dinners
eat Mum's lunch packs such a tasty blast

So freedom arrived beside Christmas
many lovely pressies which were only temp
one day all these lovely things would end
history would bring me a freedom friend 

(I have written this remembering Christmas memories aged 15 in 1968 when I left school and all that it meant.)
Form: Rhyme

Has Your Boss Loved You Like This Or Are They Normal

Ever had a boss fall in love with you completely of their own accord 
a lingering dream or fantasy their life cannot afford 
alive through their entitlement believing love’s assured 
for them to then discover that their presence is ignored 

Then in their heartbroken state claim that you led them on 
just to reel them in to then decide the feelings gone 
when really not a word was spoken as you are not that fond 
yet after still they seek revenge because you’ve done them wrong

And as their so repellent they only have one skill 
to spread a load of stories that’ll change how people feel 
but let down by their eagerness as their tales don’t fit the bill 
I am a familiarity to those hearing descriptions far from real 

Relying on their employment stature to come across authentic 
thinking as they are your boss they’ve access to the gossip 
and therefore when they talk of you there’s truth in every topic 
even though they play no part in your life outside the office 

Warning members of the opposite sex not to even bother 
because you’ll use them just to lose them and find yourself another 
as that is all you ever do because you’re a selfish bugger 
while your boss has got no life at all so obsess on you forever 

Nobody wants to be their lover as they’re so unattractive 
nobody wants to be their friend so it’s you they interact with 
getting you is their whole life only work sees them distracted 
all they do is slander on looking a tragic spastic 

This is the only focus of their one digit IQ 
they even try to set you up but you can see right through 
whilst all day investigations spawn from rumours about you 
when just for fun you make one up too bonkers to be true 

yet still somehow believed by your boss who’s clearly clueless 
and spends the next four hours seeking evidence to prove this 
idiotic rumour that they think will make you jobless, 
have you had a deluded boss whose wet dreams leave them pissed!? 

I have had a boss like this and can say it's not too fun, 
especially when they are a munter who out of ten gets a none, 
with a repellent personality and less braincells than a plum, 
I'd rather stick my dingaling inside the flaming Sun!!
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

My Dream

Good news, is spreading around the world, 
country's that where once committing genocide, 
have now realised, that, their people can be assets.
Where once they had a million, mouths to feed and no money
now they have employees, waiting for the creation of jobs.
America and the Muslim's have realised, that they can create
a symbiotic relationship, where the product's of one county 
can be sold, to enhance the growth of both.
People have realised, that by having only two children
per family they can build a world of peace, where those 
children will live to enjoy their live's. 
The world is growing up, instead of looking to a future 
full of dread, instead of waiting on the end of the world,
people are working together, to build a better life, now.
People are investing in new technology's, sustainable 
technology's, that will enhance our needs for energy.
Desalination plants are being created, reclaiming land for
agricultural purposes, insuring that the world's population 
will be well feed.
The world is being turned into a garden paradise, where our 
children will learn and love, to enjoy.
Religion is coming together with the state, realising that idle hands 
are the devils play ground, ministers are behind a world wide effort, 
to create employment, for the unemployed.
Educational institutions, are creating the brains behind the organisation,
working with statistic's they are using the maths, to work out how many 
farms, the world require's, and what products to grow.
People are changing to new technology's, that will repair the Ozone layer,
the future is looking brighter, than it ever has before.
Form: Narrative


Immigration problems

All these politicians seem to agree
The immigrants are responsible 
For the poor economy 
They've come here taking jobs
No employment for our own
They're being housed in luxury
Multi generational homes 

They're coming in on boats 
Theyre coming in en masse
We're gonna be consumed
By the stalwart impasse 

This story is a myth 
But one the masses share
The fat cats feed the media
To distance from the stare
They want the lower classes 
Who seek to know the cause
Of their continued poverty
While the rich show no remorse 

These immigrants are human
They're fleeing for their lives
They're seeking help and shelter 
From those in the archives 

They want to live a normal life 
One free from war and fear
A compliment should be bestowed 
That they see that place as here
Form: Rhyme

Can'T Give Up

Wake in the morning at 5am
Getting ready for work
While getting papers filled out for another job
Leaving the one you love for the work shift
And have to stay till near midnight.
"Have to do this for the both of us,"
You keep telling yourself that
Because you know that she is struggling
To find employment and also cleans messes up that you offer to help but she insisted to clean by herself
"I can't give up."

By the time you're on break,
Or have some downtime in between cleans,
You text her to check up because you worry
For her
She usually still asleep,
But sometimes she replies that she is doing okay
It makes you happy when she replies
Or calls you out the blue
"I won't give up for you and us,"
You tell her.

Come back home late at night
Taking off your work gear and jackets you wore
Try to check on her and yet shes asleep
Gave her a kiss as saying "Goodnight love."
Lay next to her as her comfort is needed
And so you wrap your arm around her
Because she missed you and that
She knows you won't give up on her

Premium Member South Bronx

While I'm reading a poem about it on the previous page
the girls come over to visit their boyfriends and dance
in high shoes and perfume. Their legs are strong and their voices high.
And the guys get high and hard thinking about what the girls are like
      behind their eyes.

That says more about me than reality. And it's exactly four lines.
Ken Patchen would say his angel smells sweet and sassy.
I feel the bony fingers of mine who has been working to stay alive.

Enough small poetry. One must conceive of a project--
say a poem about a bridge--or stop writing
and instead walk over the bridge at sunset and see the city in a nuclear
      war
the clocks, the Watchtower and the docks gone and no smoke.

I still exist but I'm late for my job. I'm dressed well
in honor of true love and Spring which both outlast the holocaust.
The manager cans me with the cold hard eyes of one who accepts the
      rules entirely.

Goodbye to the rows of dead metal desks and goodbye
to those who can take it longer than I.

The guys downstairs do not read poetry and very little prose.
The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money does not
      occupy their minds.
The sex pistils of the mountain daisy is no concern of theirs
and the man upstairs who plays the horn is less than a curiosity but makes
      more noise.

When I feel like this nothing matters and this is good--
get warm with wine, turn out the lights and turn up the radio--
if only there were a woman who liked the down and out life too.

In the end someone sticks a gun in my face in the South Bronx.
How I got among the fire escapes in the sooty alley I cannot say
but it is one of my earliest memories. Perhaps it is my grandmother
      holding my hand
or one of the clowns. I say Drop that goddamn gun and he blows me
      away.
Form: Verse

DREAM-BUILDERS

Allow NO ONE to belittle you 
for the position or field you have 
either chosen or landed – 
whether it be temporal or permanent,  
whether it be a job or a career – 
to you.  

If it’s legal – 
regardless of what it is you DO –
It is most definitely HONEST living.
There’s NO shame whatsoever, 
Only MODESTY and DIGNITY 
in TRUTH and HONESTY!

Hence, give NO regards to those that underestimate you
For whatever it is you DO for a living in your occupational field.
Let NO ONE speak ILL of you for doing NOTHING else for NO ONE!
If you have EVER been EMPLOYED, you are SELFLESS – not SELFSH –
By having worked for someone, you’ve invested in THEIR dream, contributing to THEIR success and constructing toward THEIR achievements – NOT YOURS – one brick at a time – even LONG AFTER you’ve already been honorably resigned or abruptly terminated! 

For the term you’ve served or filled – however LONG or however SHORT –
You’ve occupied “the vacancy” and fulfilled whatever “the need” 
you DO or DID…every day you reported for work in exchange for a 
 “stipend net change” of the business founder’s “gross pay dollar…”
YOU, SELFLESS DREAM-BUILDER, YOU….?•

Premium Member Ivans Shortcomings

Imperfect indifferent ineffective Ivan Inglebritzen
Was wistfully, wildly, wantonly weird at work.
Not indispensable, but rather despicable, desperate and diabolical.
Cautious co-workers candidly discussed dozens of Ivan’s idiotic decisions.
Determined to alert Alvin, our alluring but not attentive boss.
Bernie, Beaver and Betty bellowed about his shoddy shortcomings.
Providing proof of Ivan’s problematic predictably imperfect performances.
astute assessments failed on prideful, persnickety, president Alvin.
asinine attempts at preventing Ivan from essential employment a bust.
These three did not know that Ivan was Alvin's caustic cousin.
Alvin kept him, not wanting him to crash on his cushy comfortable couch.

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