Long Work day Poems
Long Work day Poems. Below are the most popular long Work day by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Work day poems by poem length and keyword.
I've got a tropical obsession
I think I'm losing my mind
I want to see my work day done
Go out and have some fun
And leave the city life behind.
I love the roar of the ocean
The smell of tanning lotion
A secluded beach somewhere
There are coconuts in the trees
With a warm and gentle breeze
And a flower in your hair.
I've got a tropical obsession
It's driving me up a wall
I want the palm trees and the shore
Blue skies and so much more
Oh God! I want it all
There's an island in the sea
I can hear it calling me
Saying come on home today
I'll bring my old beach chair
Plant it in the sand somewhere
And that's where I'm going to stay
I've got a tropical obsession
And I just can't set it free
On an island remote
In a little fishing boat
Is where I want to be.
He's retired, at last he's free,
Released from bondage now.
No longer must he watch the clock,
No slave behind a plow.
His time at last is his alone,
He'll do just as he wishes.
His wife still has a job and so,
He cooks and does the dishes.
She goes to work to earn her pay,
So he does household chores.
He thinks,"What gives!? For I could swear,
T'was not like this before."
"Where does all this dirt come from?
That woman is a pig!
Before the house was nice and clean.
My job was not so big."
"She stayed home and watched T.V.
She cooked and made some buns.
I worked all day to earn my pay,
Relaxed when day was done."
"Now I work and slave and cook and clean,
Till I can hardly stand,
And then at dawning of the day,
I do it all again."
"It's not supposed to be this way.
I wish I had a job.
Then I could work and then get paid,
And not be so bedaubed,
With so many different jobs,
Instead I'd have just one.
She could stay here just like before,
I'd slave under the gun."
Judy Ball
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
Finishing up the last notes from my work day, I’m really late,
Looking out my window, my drive tonight, I’m going to hate.
I grab my briefcase and walk to my car, on a sheet of ice.
Slipping and sliding left and right, this is not going to be nice.
Takes twenty minutes to clear the snow from my car window,
If I can hardly move, how will my car drive, I just don’t know.
Hitting the windshield, the snowflakes are big, puffy and white,
They fly at you almost hypnotizing, you completely lose sight.
Once you reach country roads the white knuckles truly begin,
If you can keep between the hydro poles, you may just win.
Hold on tight, keep your wheel straight, put your lights on low,
Pray your defrost keeps working as you make through the snow.
A blanket of whiteness envelopes you, no sounds or lights to see,
Alone in this blizzard, you drive, terrifying, yet a strange tranquility.
Once home, after a good night’s sleep, you arise from bed at seven,
Trees iced in froth, the ground painted white, looks a bit like heaven.
Sun comes up, temperatures rise and once again green appears,
Nature makes the world safe again, slowly melts away your fears.
To think that I could have easily been killed driving home last night,
You consider the beauty of country living and soon forget the fright.
Written September 9, 2012
For Joy Wellington’s contest
“Weather Forecast”
Waking to the brilliance of seeing you,
In the stealthy dark of the early morn.
I stir and gather to ready myself,
For another work day born.
I drive thru traffic on familiar roads,
With thoughts of sly smiles and quick glances.
While changing lanes, rounding corners, finding work,
I see images of you as my imagination dances.
Finding the punching clock checking right then left,
Searching for that one face which will lift my heart to a new height.
There, eye contact, smile meets smile, lifting spirits,
Briefly the day wants to extend where morning never darkens to night.
Me learning how my day will go,
You telling how your night went.
Listening yet not hearing still seeing that smile,
Thinking about the next few minutes and how they will be spent.
The time has come the top of the hour,
You stirring, gathering, picking up.
Finding that clock, the locker, then the stairs,
Me checking my list hurrying to catch up.
Walking side by side down and out,
Laughing, talking, or just smiling cause you’re there.
Not caring how long it takes or how far,
Each second seems to slow down as we hit the chill of the morning air.
Standing beside what will take you home,
Searching for words to make it last.
Longing for a touch, a hug, a gentle kiss,
But waiting on the ghosts of a dreary past.
Saying goodbye with only a look and words,
You climbing in, shutting doors, turning keys.
Me walking away, checking time, looking back,
Wishing my heart was still full of you, now empty in the morning breeze.
Have you ever wondered about all the things that require your signature in life
How about a marriage certificate, I now pronounce you man and wife
A steady hand is needed as you buy your first home
If a writer's cramp occurs with so many places to sign, you are not alone
The car of your dreams you are about to drive off the lot
Or maybe the insurance for that car you just bought
Your passport for an upcoming dream trip you are about to take
The officer speeding ticket for moving too fast, oh for heaven's sake
Your birth certificate your parents sign to prove you are alive
Your driver's license after you show you know how to drive
The only thing I would like to sign is a big check from the lottery I just won
One more stroke of the pen and my work day will be done
Lay down noiselessly,
as long as you stay still
and breathe lightly, then they will ignore you.
You can smile under your eyelids,
you can pretend that they have legs
and wear business suits.
You can imagine milking the poison
out of their hollow fangs;
like sperm it will ease your mind.
In the viper pit
let the forked tongue's sense your resignation,
let the forked tongue's lick your meekness.
Let the forked tongue's wrap you up
in their sinuous dreams.
On Monday morning they will be waiting
to interrogate your presence,
Their tight shiny pants dick slick
and cocksure. Their pointing shoulder pads
puffed up like rock adders,
high hips sharp and akimbo
pencil-sharp eyes probing,
testing your capacity to still undulate.
If you are male, screw red thorns upon
your rodent parts.
The mice around your spine
are freezing,
wrap them in fox skins
you haggled for at the meat-market.
Grin with your back teeth.
If you are female,
If you have hands,
then hold them up, reveal your armpits,
cream your pheromone-laced musk
into their morning coffee.
Loll with the water-cooler moccasins,
laugh at their venomous jokes.
Feed them scraps of velvety rabbit skin
you have shaved off your inner thighs.
Wear your skirt just a little bit higher.
At the end of the work day,
if your eyes are filled with dried-up slime
remove the crud with a cattle-prod
then slither into a deep sleep.
Dream of eating the juicy white meat
of roasted pythons,
or disemboweling a writhing nest
of Anacondas
with a razor-sharp, steely forked tongue.
.
Walk slowly with me until we reach the other end of the sea, pick up a bucket of sand and throw it all over the land; dig a hole in the earth and plant a tree for the universe; it will tell you what to do so that your dream can come through.
Daylight burst through the ceiling with a coffee mug, pudding pans, hammer, chain saw, pickup truck and two dozen handy men with a vision wrapped up in heaven.
Take them with you to the sea and circle around the coast and recharge the engine in the boat, turn the compass to the north then pivot to the south, go slightly towards the east then maneuver to the west and there you will find your Sunday best; the sun is baking in the East and message is wrapped up in the belly of the beast.
Time has no time to spare so organize your team before you get there, the tectonic plates are shifting; the mountain is lifting and the wave is sweeping the mountain away, you have got to set up a thousand flood lights so that you can workday and night and move the mountain from the sea and build a mansion for you and me.
You have got to hire ten thousand strong men to work on shift to complete the lion’s den, they must work, day and night with no pause between except for when they change the shift.
Twenty thousand men completed the Taj Mahal, twenty thousand men laying concrete that parachute to the heavens; twenty thousand men work together with one mission to build the world most renown structure; twenty thousand men lift the stone from top of the hill to build the Taj Mahal and the pyramid of Ginza.
Look for the fragments in the sand and make it drain for one day before the activities begin. Create a solid base with concrete and well cured steel, thread it around three times and seal the pockets with sturdy iron and look for the fragments in the sand and get rid of them before you land.
A beautiful warm Sunday.
Travelled to this place
The Dock library Makerspace,
Planned completing some projects.
But served with Notice,
No longer be welcomed,
With their unfound accusations.
So, left without hesitation.
For months I attended,
At this art place.
Reached goals and plans
Created amaze wonderful works.
Put up with changes,
Inconsistent and conflict instructions
Had swallowed one pride
Patience with sound mind
Put up with problems.
Care nothing, but concentration,
Now step back relax
Identified so many matters.
An organisation with disorders.
Lack of organisation skill.
No transparency nor consistency.
Made up own way,
Along their work day.
Turned patrons upside down,
Confused, spinned patrons around.
That couldn't worry me.
I could manage well,
All my promises shall,
Be delivered bit late.
Now work be done
Manually instead of technology.
What caused the frustration,
Inconsistent and conflict instructions.
What raised negative behaviours,
Different instructors different words.
In brief, too many
Cooks spoiled the broth.
Under staff, under pay.
Caused tensions and dismay.
The staff watched me
Just like a hawk.
I was targetted and
Being caught of following
What other patrons did.
See the piano's keys
It needs face lift,
But now short lived.
All thanks to Pip.
Why write poetry?
Someone asked again;
Why breathe?
~~~~~~~~~
Snail sliding slowly
Grass verge camouflage;
Morning psalm
~~~~~~~~~
Morning crowd
Busy feet congregate;
Fiddle with cellphones
~~~~~~~~~
Downtown office complex
Rush hour traffic;
Urgent commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Food court terrestrials
Sea of hungry faces;
No place to sit
~~~~~~~~~
Work day blues
So much for so little;
Make ends meet
~~~~~~~~~
Modern day woes
So little time,
So much to do
~~~~~~~~~
Healthy constellations
Mötley yoga class;
Fitness sublimates
~~~~~~~~~
Morning newspapers
Friday through Sunday;
Terminal indigestion
~~~~~~~~~
Words in a rhyme
Lost in a thought;
Inconsequential
~~~~~~~~~
Only crazy people write
Wasted resources;
Sober conclusion
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
13 October 2014
Singapore
Remember, God is watching you“
So stop spreading the lies.”
“And they want to throw God’s
wonderful breathing system out the door,”
“You’re all turning your backs on it.
Can you prove that it’s good for people
to breathe carbon dioxide over
and over and over again?
God made it so that we would breathe
in fresh oxygen, to go to our body,
to every cell in the body.
It has to have that to make energy.
When you wear a mask,
the nose is cut off,
the mouth is cut off.”
“And you’re breathing carbon dioxide
over and over and over again.
You’re not getting the fresh oxygen t
hat God intended.
You’re sending carbon dioxide
to every cell in the body,
polluting it.
Especially the brain…”
“I can’t understand
why you would all decide something
“I can’t understand
why you would all decide something
like this
and want to hurt the people.
You’re going to harm
the health of all of the people.
The virus is going to keep on going
because people’s bodies are being polluted
and the virus is attracted to polluted bodies.
You’re going against God’s
wonderful gift he gave us.”
“Every single one of you has a smirk
behind that little mask,
but every single one of you
are going to get punished by God.”
“What I came to say is
We the People
will work day and night
to clean every single seat
if need be,”
“We will get together
and do a citizen’s arrest
on every single human being t
hat goes against the freedom
of choice, OK?
You cannot mandate…
knowing that the mask is killing people..
. We the People are waking up
and we know what a citizen’s arrest is.
Because citizen’s arrests
are already happening
and every single one of you
that’s obeying the devil’s la
are going to be arrested.
And you are going to be arrested
for crimes against humanity.”
“Every single one of you
has a smirk behind that little mask,
but every single one of you are going
to get punished by God.
You cannot escape God.
You cannot escape God.
I’m going to say that again.’
You cannot escape God.”