Working Woman Poems | Examples
These Working Woman poems are examples of Woman poems about Working. These are the best examples of Woman Working poems written by international poets.
S-trong
H-earts
E-arnestly
I-nspire
L-iberated
A-nd
H-appy
M-others,
A-s
Y-ou've
S-uccessfully
E-xerted
E-ffort
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Monocrostic (Birthday of Sheilah May See)
There she is
working tirelessly every day
spending her time and effort generously.
She is confident in her business.
Always encouraging me spiritually.
Respectful and kind in speech, yet
firm when she speaks the truth.
There she is again
giving her best to Jehovah,
impressing me with her authenticity.
She expresses her heartfelt happiness,
her voice infused with joy.
There she is again with that smile
after she told me nothing will wipe it away.
Telling me she chooses to be selective,
selecting me as her confidant.
There she is once again
being the kind of woman I need.
Truly a gem in a loveless world.
Being loyal as she can be,
caring for me genuinely.
I am fully convinced
She's a man's woman,
albeit too modest to agree.
Happily, I would let her be
a man's woman just for me.
Chanté Walker
November 26, 2024
Woman President
A dream come true,
I was always told it was possible
A woman president
Could anyone have predicted it
Many women have run for equal rights
in the past, we’re here and now
It might as well be you
Worn down is your spontaneous laugh
reduced to a serious hum
Working hard to keep our country free
Gee—wiz already you have made history
In the role of Vice Presidency
A dream come true,
I was always told it was possible
A woman president
It may as well be you
Kamala for President!
She has done so hard
She has curved legs
Below her left foot and knee
She has to take care of herself
So the road can go along.
The work you do
Seems to be too heavy
Will you put yourself out of trouble
To love yourself
The future is still long.
She has gone
The best things in life
Yet, for the love she has
For her family she does the ordeal
To get through in life.
You have now affluence
When where your industry end
Where will your goodness fail
Does your purpose not met
You just said, "life goes, 'till end."
Fueled by affection, once carved to a tree
Strong as a hard-working honey bee
Found selfless in you, a sworn guarantee
I hope this devotion answers her plea!
I hold you next to them, as we both sway
A never-ending nights finest fiery array
But our song is humming in defiant foray
Yet it's being felt in every way
Remembering you, I'll walk an abyss
The consumption I could never dismiss
Heard like drum beats; her true beauty is this
To the end of days, we will be able to reminisce
A singularity of grandest notion
Vast is this lovely swirling ocean
Wild; like the time of locomotion
Perfections elixir set into motion
I would move mountains for all the working mothers:
To untangle our communities and have someone see their true colors.
To stop mothers from carrying the brunt of communal dysfunction,
To guide a little cultural deconstruction,
To redirect the debilitating parental judgment,
To provide more support from the government,
To end the overstimulated etiquettes that have always been known,
To deconstruct those parenting standards we’ve outgrown,
To assist with the impossible parenting choices,
To hear these working mothers' voices.
To help homes stay financially viable,
To create childcare that is reliable,
To become a work-life balance advocate,
To build postpartum support that's adequate,
To support the countless and endless asks,
To end the pressure of the myriad of household tasks.
To stop being accustomed to survival mode.
It's time to start enjoying the motherly road,
Because the weight of being someone’s everything is as heavy as it is light,
Moving Mountains for them seems right.
On sleep-starved heavy eyes, tired, torn,
Straight like bullet begins her morn.
Kids woken up with a warm kiss,
She hurries that naught is amiss,
Last bestirs hubby’s languid bone,
Straight like bullet begins her morn.
Bare in time she breasts her office,
When home, there awaits some crisis.
Forever hurry, worry-prone,
Straight like bullet begins her morn.
__________________________________
Couplets |03.01.2024|dawn
Poet’s note: A woman’s working day never gets done and there comes the next day’s dawn. This poem was inspired by one by Yaminee Vyas in Gujarati.
My pen write
My heart speaks
Of how my soul appreciate that one strong man
Full of dust from head to toe
Pushing those heavy wheelbarrow
To earn for a bread
Whose hands are those it is his family that awaits, awaits for him to share the bread
My eyes have seen
Of that wonderful woman
Who’s turning black not only black but black as charcoal
For the sun has no mercy for her beautiful skin
Day and night with the bucket on her head
She also believes a day in her life will be brighter than yesterday
That she will no longer inhabit the wrinkles on her face and the cracked legs in her beautiful body.
Working hard, the wait extends,
My soul hurts, my patience bends.
With battery low, the hours go slow,
Concerned heart, unsure where to go.
Worries exist, but dreams to chase,
A Path difficult, lost in a maze.
How long will this struggle be ?
The fruit of labour, I am yet to see.
People have support, but I stand alone,
Glimpses of love, in dreams I've known.
I can do it all, yes that is true,
Yet a gentle hug I look for too.
But I will have strength outlined,
and will stand tall myself, never mind.
In golden rays, upon a boat's embrace,
A tanned enchantress graces azure space,
Her skin, kissed by the sun's fervent desire,
Reflects a beauty, glowing, tan attire.
She casts her gaze upon the dancing tide,
Where silver fish in playful currents glide,
With nimble hands, she aids her lover's quest,
Guiding the line, as patience puts to test.
Her vibrant presence, like the ocean's breeze,
Unfurls serenity, the heart at ease.
Her laughter, buoyant, mingles with the spray,
As sunlight weaves a halo 'round her fair head.
Her eyes, a mirror to the ocean's depths,
Hold secrets of the sea, where passions rests.
With grace, she weaves a tapestry of care,
A love that flourishes, beyond compare.
Together, they embark on nature's course,
As waves caress the shore, their souls embrace.
A testament to love's enduring might,
A radiant duo, bound by love's sweet light.
Thus, in this fleeting moment's sweet reprieve,
Their souls entwined, forever to believe,
That beauty resides in love's tender hands,
A tanned woman's touch, forever caressed.
A woman is a wonder to behold,
A force of nature, strong and bold.
Her beauty shines both inside and out,
Her heart full of love and her mind devout.
Her eyes are pools of endless depth,
Reflecting the joys and pains she's kept.
Her voice can soothe, calm and inspire,
Lifting up those whose spirits tire.
Her hands are gentle, yet firm and sure,
Working hard with a heart so pure.
She brings forth life with each new birth,
Guiding her children through life's worth.
A woman's strength knows no bounds,
She overcomes, she perseveres, she astounds.
She is a warrior, a queen, a friend,
Her love and compassion knows no end.
So here's to the women of this world,
May your dreams and passions unfurl.
May you know your worth and never forget,
You are loved, respected, and a force to be reckoned with.
I’ve seen it myself sometimes.
Shooting pool with a Marine I liked, a buddy.
He’s drunk. Always had a booze problem
and women had disappointed him,
no more than any other man.
Anyway, the only gal in the unit, honest, hard working,
blonde comes into the room. We all
wanted her
I’d shown her my poems, which she’d taken a pass on.
Joe starts teasing her about her tiny ****,
touching them with his cue.
She’s scared. So am I.
Joe’s stronger, faster than me, by a lot, and when he’s drunk
he knows no friend.
How long can I stay silent, I calculate.
What does he have to do before I speak. Speech, none.
If I don’t put him down with the first crack of my cue, I’m done.
Lucky for me she gets away
unharmed, goes back to her room.
I think Joe assumed me and the other guys, by our nervous smiles,
would enjoy a rape tonight.
Men are such chickens,
I can’t speak for women.
You basically hold your breath
your whole life.
Live in a zoo
and screw.
And if it comes to that, you’ll kill
on orders, from who?
Another swinging dick
who fears his death.
You’ve got to make every day a good day to die.
Azzurro
The boots were blue in colour
Painted to look like the sky
And worn by a gal with other things
She was aged 18 to 45
And looked timless ageless
It was the blue painted ex army boots
That she used wore to gigs
Pubs and clubs when she was free
Not working as a programmer
In the Italian civilian aviation industry
The job was boring but paid well
She'd done it for 8 years
Was a legend at the plane factory
The lady who wore her blue boots
Even in the office a different pair
She got results delivered the goods
Had worked on 36 different projects
They simply knew her as Azzurro
The blue booted gal
Woman-owned green beans won't string you along,
But if you're a man, it’s likely you're wrong.
Woman-owned green beans, our virtues extole,
Hand-picked from the bush, eschewing the pole.
Woman-owned green beans for the man of the hour,
We’d best make that two, they still need a shower.
Woman-owned green beans are never on sale,
‘Cuz working for less is beyond the pale.
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got a chuckle out of this label at the store...
peering out the kitchen window
you are on your knees working
afore the roses are a border
of smaller annuals
you know their names
intimate knowledge of their needs
hands that care for thee and me
so often i find myself
in this domain where your touch
permeates every aspect of existence
while i see only the beauty in color and form
i am not so devoid of this picture
as not to recognize
the touch of Monet therein
i have been given a moment with a masterpiece
that only i will ever have
one that will forever grace
the gallery in my heart, where are your portraits
where i go when life takes you momentarily away
and i am missing you
1/4/19 Kismet