Long Profession Poems
Long Profession Poems. Below are the most popular long Profession by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Profession poems by poem length and keyword.
I have no dad and I have to know that,
He did not leave wealth behind
But helpless kids
And a mom
Really?
Yes He did, and I have to know that.
I have a life to fund with my slim slip
Compulsory bills to always pay
Basic needs to also fund
A large family to aid
Plus own growth
Surely?
Yes I do, and I have to know that.
Born and raised deep in the humble village
No early exposure to urban life
No idea for corporate world
Little financial literacy
No connections
or deals
really?
Absolutely not, and I surely have to know that
Now I am older, well grown, learned and highly adored,
A reputable profession with meagre income
Invited guest in most fund raisings
Deemed poverty chain-breaker
But feeble financially
Surely?
Imagine, and no doubt at all, I have to know that.
Dad did not show me how to get myself a wife.
Neither did he teach my how to seduce
And that girls also need money
Now I'm a stranded single
And broke too
Really?
For sure, and I have to know that.
There is too much of a cumber over my shoulders.
A bigger head and big body over feeble feet
Like an elephant standing of pigs legs
Or a lorry on bicycle's wheels
I'm I really stable?
Surely?
No I'm not, and I have to know that.
By Teacher Kevin.
I could be a prima ballerina or a semi driver
could rename myself McCellihouti or McGiver
could become a psychologist, biologist, zoologist,
anthropologist, or an ultra-mologist.
My therapist stops me.
What is an ultra-mologist?
It’s a person who trains for every position just in case.
In case we get to live under the ocean or outer space.
I am not discounting any ideas, for they are all great you see.
Might even become an explorer and discover an unknown sea.
I could be a pirate queen and make others walk the plank.
Could become a wayfarer like my Uncle Hank.
I am open to any profession, for I am great at everything.
Can dance, knit, work on car engines, what will my life bring?
This might seem braggadocio from another.
But I am brilliant and talented – just ask my mother.
Life cannot put any limits on me, you see.
I am confident and wild and wooly and free.
If the treasury won't cover it borrow again'
Teach the mandarins in office, and if it rains heavy.? Put covers on the drains, pick
Up a sound staff, and break it in two, then
You'll have more than enough, will you.? Yes get rid of the farms, and build houses
Galore' estates that look clean.' There must
Be more, and tax on the builders just
raise it beyond extreme.! They should suffer in their profession' treat them ever so mean, max tax the elderly, in fact? Also offer them death.' tell them its progressive
virtue, in the very same breath..Destroy any
Old power plants, get thise metal
wind-turbines in, that
are to be started by combustion,
well is really; so hard to spot the sins?
Cynthia Kwiecinski and Suzanne Colby
You've broken every rule of civility
With the execrable decision you made recently
You withdrew a job offer from a school superintendent
for addressing you as 'Ladies' in an acceptance email
You claim the term constitutes a micro-aggression'
But it's you abominations who have disgraced your profession
The superintendent-to-be meant to compliment you
But you two sows couldn't see that for the cud that you chew
I have much more to say, but come what may ~
You deserve to chew CRUD for the rest of your days
_________________________________________________________
Check out Fox News, April 03, 2023, 'School Superintendent candidate
says job offer was rescinded...' Story by Yael Halon
Why was my whole special school life,
An interpretation of nature and school?
A philosophical contemplation and analysis,
A freeway inquiry into the education tool.
Because the god concept was lain out,
On the household table, delicately spread,
I was sharp at social phenomenon,
Even as a primary child was not off my head.
When I journeyed down the corridors,
Slowly, because of my disability,
I was more often than not on my own,
‘Cos the others would show off their mobility.
So I thought about the politics,
Of the special school and our integration right,
Our need of ramps and disabled toilets,
The importance of everybody’s mindset height.
I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong,
For using the carers as playtime supervisors,
‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened,
In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours.
The teachers knew us in the classroom,
So adjudicated fairly and with respect,
Were able to administer justice,
Wherever there was a point of regret.
The carers were just not on my level,
And you had to do what they said,
Which overshadowed my whole experience,
Which made me much see red.
It was believed that the carers had a light on,
Because they scribed for us in maths,
But your profession level sets your reception,
Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs.
I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them,
For their low rank and position,
But that just meant they never put me with,
My parents speech and religion.
But I considered myself determined philosophically,
Not in the free-will line of thought camp,
And just needed a man, board or committee,
To rejuvenate myself and amp.
So I often spoke with the school doctor,
The boss of the cliques and staff,
But the other pupils resented it,
Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff.
When your life does not go right,
Insist, if you can, on calling the shots,
Make appointments with the gods,
And beam with importance watts.
When the bombers are in town,
And soldiers daren't open fire
Because the legal profession
Is so readily there for hire
With no win no fee basis,
Always eager for a prosecution
When a military campaign
Has come to its conclusion.
When the rioters rule the streets
Because the police are so few
And there’s not enough of them
To care about me and you.
They’re all busy guarding
The rich in their secure estates
Ensuring top class security
As they hide behind their gates.
When the NHS is sold off
To the Tories Yankee mates
And we’re, in all but name,
The latest of the United States,
When Brexit is just a memory
And you can get immediate sack,
Just take it on the chin mate
For you’ll have your country back.
When that country is a wasteland
Ruled by the gun and the knife
And indiscriminate mob rule
Is just an accepted fact of life,
The death of the Welfare State
The inevitable ending to the story
When the working class majority
Goes and votes for the Tory.
Liz is still in the Palace
Phil does things his way
It’s like a scene frozen from
A modern kitchen sink play.
It’s back to Victorian times
With just a few mod cons
To pacify the peasant classes
As that privileged few march on.
So, Hey ho for Merrie England
A place that never existed,
A place where Christianity
Was warped, bent and twisted
To concentrate the power, make
Social progress grudgingly slow
And with, God Still In His Heaven,
Maintain that jolly old Status Quo.
Teaching is a noble profession
But, given less regard on golden opportunities
I saw their plight of sacrifices
One example, teacher in remote places
Where servicing education to less fortunate ones
I saw teachers start hiking on a Sunday morning
And arrive at the place at evening
They have to go to the ordeal of cliff hanging bridge
Flowing river and rocky rough road and too many stops in between
They are stay-in teacher for the whole week or even more
Only few teacher survive the ordeal
Many quit and gone abroad for greener pasture
Some change places and practice in private school
Those who survive the ordeal remain skeptical
But because they love their profession and the children
They remain true and love their profession by heart
I wonder what the government can do to alleviate the situation
I wonder where our taxes go, where the resources went
I wait God to intervene my government and raise good leaders
To address many social issues that concern people and its progress.
Fundamentalist Christians row over piecemeal things,
Over whether baptism is required for heavenly sings,
Over whether baptism is needed for heaven’s welcome,
Over whether baptism is demanded by god to overcome.
I don’t know how many times I was asked about baptism,
Whether I wanted baptised, they didn’t accept my atheism,
I’d stated it to my parents but had a question in my mind,
About whether they’d told my so called friends who’d mind.
But I said no, and explained Christian atheism fair, square,
Didn’t mix my words nor hesitate to extrapolate with air,
But each one said to me I didn’t know my own mind simply,
Which left me very distressed, very much in a quandary.
They were playing the mentally ill card, when I was not,
They wanted to patronise me to chide and see what I’d got,
But I didn’t like it so withdrew from their sphere, company,
Which made me feel better, gave me dignity and harmony.
A stillness with life and a peace about my so uncertain future,
A habit of reading, even if I’d already read them in conjecture,
Since my parents restricted me to only five philosophy books,
In case for researchers and academics, thinkers, I had looks.
A fundamentalist household is not a peaceful one, stable,
But is distressed, fragmented and broken, that’s irrefutable,
You suffer displacement because your atheist leaves you,
To ruminate upon his interjection which is to see you through.
I think it’s better today, atheists in god families have voice,
They can be respected for devious acts of normality, choice,
They can refer to teachers for love, for secularist edification,
And have access to the medical profession for an adulation.
As he brushed his golden locks, he detected something stressing.
The skin around his noble forehead was inexorably progressing!
(Politically correct types tend to call this "follicle regression!")
Alarmed at this discovery, he suffered terrible depression!
"Follicle regression", now that was a mysterious term to him.
It left him totally confused and feeling somewhat grim.
He consulted his Funk 'n Wagnalls for a simple definition.
Alas, this august tome had no explanation for his condition!
A visit to his barber further compounded his dismay.
"The only solution I see for your plight is a nice toupee.
Son, you have a very serious case of 'follicle regression';
I recommend you get a consult from the medical profession!"
With his barber's observations he was not content.
He sought his doc's advice concerning his predicament.
"I have no remedies but this I'll say without hesitation;
Follicle regressive types are very macho, if that's any consolation!"
Tho' they insisted upon calling it "follicle regression",
He never fully understood what they meant by that expression.
Call it what you may, he was certainly not enthralled!
To his utter consternation, simply said, he was going bald!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Sometimes I feel boredom settling in like dust,
Shrouded in the island of a single thought-
Works to be done and lying unfinished.
There are obligations one cannot wriggle out.
As a housewife, I have to wake up early in the morning,
To get the breakfast ready for the family
And to do the sundry jobs- cleaning, mopping
Loading clothes in the washing machine, ironing
The soiled dishes piling up in the sink,
After each meal, makes my head spin.
In between, the telephone keeps ringing,
And the doorbell keeps buzzing.
I would really love to have a cup of tea,
And sit and read the newspaper, relaxed.
But what am I to do, when there is so much of work?
Work and work with no one to help.
On some days, it’s so hectic that I don’t have time to eat,
Making my stomach grunt and growl…
In truth, there is more work after retirement.
Though I had hoped that once out of profession,
I will have plenty of time at my disposal,
And will be less ruled by the hands of the clock.
But, as a full- time housewife, there is absolutely no rest.
Besides, it is terribly boring to be confined to home,
With an incarcerated soul, with no change of scene.
Sometimes my feet go numb, climbing up and down,
Going from the kitchen to the living room
And from bedroom, again back to the kitchen
One step forward is one step backward.
Between small breaks, I must write poems for the contest,
Read and comment on fellow poets’ works.
These days, with age telling on my health,
I strongly feel, I must slow down a bit,
Otherwise, my life would end up in utter boredom,
Or I may collapse with the strain of overwork.
March.7.2023
~ Placed First~
B. Forms and Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet