Short Recruiter Poems
Short Recruiter Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Recruiter by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Recruiter by length and keyword.
You may never know
Why that recruiter never had a job
Not for him, not for me.
He was a wide-eyed blue
And end of a story plot
As we need bodies in open ended doors
Barefooted writers and bold writers too.
Where you may never know the next platoon
Bermuda triangle or a mere emotional trap, in a day light saving zone !
I wear the same shoes,
Every single freaking day,
They probably smell...
I want to sign up,
I talked to a recruiter,
I might just wash out...
Talking to old friends,
Is NOT a good idea,
Jojo was the worst...
I spent time in jail,
It was a pain in the ass,
I did get out though...
I have a few friends,
They probably are liars,
I have to move on...
The recruiting poster incited little Lee.
He could barely wait to shove out to sea.
His cousin joined too, because joining was free.
The recruiter told them how rich they could be.
Grandma McGee got a long switch off a sycamore tree.
She went after that cagey recruiter who started to flee.
He was terrified of this woman who swung a switch like a he.
But he stopped recruiting young men from the Family McGee.
KP or laundry duty? The captain asked me.
KP I said.
Laundry duty it is, he replied with a smirk.
At least the Navy recruiter had never smirked.
You will travel to exotic places he lied.
You will learn new languages. Joining the Navy is great!
So far I have been to Detroit and New York City.
Neither exotic.
I have learned no languages but a few new swear words.
And now I am in charge of laundry.
Big whoop!
Phone call; Mom, I can’t do this.
Don’t do it, I replied.
Settled.
Next day, same child, same phone.
I’m enlisting, she says.
Wait! I cried. “Yesterday you said.”
“I have to go, Mom.”
The recruiter was apparently listening.
Wait! I cried, helpless, as the phone rang off.
The Air Force was good to my child.
She thrived there; they paid for lots of college.
Twenty years is a lot faster than you think, young’uns.
Could you please repeat the question? I ask the recruiter.
Would you rather live in a submarine or a cave?
Can I say neither?
He shakes his head no.
He is a Marine; they have rules.
Panic attack starts
Tiny heart in my throat is jumping
I could live under the stars
Or on the deck of a ship or under a tree
I choose neither, I tell him.
He glares at me and sends me away.
Without picking up my application.
It is okay. I might be too old for the Marines anyway.
I am seventy-two