Job Work Poems | Examples
These Job Work poems are examples of Work poems about Job. These are the best examples of Work Job poems written by international poets.
Protect your mental health
Even on your job
When your employer try
To bully and take advantage
My mistreating you and
Invading your personal life
And space after work hours
Todd’s latest job’s in arbitrage
He said it’s the hottest thing going
I asked Todd, if that is the case
why isn’t the field
exponentially growing
Todd wasn’t quite sure
said the truth didn’t matter
as long as the word you could utter
I asked him if he knew that arbitrage
rhymes with garage and garbage ~
Todd's brand-new job is cleaning out gutters
Surefooted men work hard on the roof.
Their job: to make sure it's all leak-proof.
But in the heat, they're baking
and the work is back-breaking.
Of their travails I'll not be aloof.
Gotta go to school it's the same old story
teach me a lesson would be good for me
learning all the rules five days of the week
don't fall behind don't think don't speak
gotta go to work it's the same sad story
get me a job that's sure to bore me
working for a wage five days of the week
don't step out of line don't think don't speak
gotta go to church it's the same sick story
wed me a wife who's bound to hound me
listen to her ***** each day of the week
don't fool around don't think don't speak
it's the way of the world the way of man
follow the herd don't say a word
all we can do is do all we can
so let's all dance to the same algorithm
everyone even you and me
dictated and played by the powers that be
me and you what have we got to lose
if we stay in line we'll be fine
and dance to the same algorithm and blues
My Job Is Killing Me
Manual Labor
Under appreciated
Underpaid
Short breaks
Work yourself to death
Too many call inns
Lazy generation
No effort
No strong work ethics
Hard night just to earn a dollar
Never save enough to retire
Eyes are burning
2 days off are flying
Everyday is just a blur
Feet to slumber
Days run into weeks
Days into months
My money always disappears
Only Losers steal.
Go get a job and earn it,
become productive.
You thought the application was the hardest part
Without actions you have to share your heart
While your talking you're wishing to read their mind
Are their thoughts of you nice, pleasant or unkind
Why do we have to be interrogated just for a job
By looking at me you can't tell if I'm a lazy slob
Yes I'm nervous and shaking trying to impress you
My words and experience is all what's going to make do
Don't judge my past actions and mistakes
Please i was young then, give me a break
Your chance is in their hands no matter what you say or do
I think we all have felt this way when going on an interview.
“The employee shortage is so bad that long haired freaky people can now apply!”
~ seen on a mobile sign
Being of sorta sound mind and long hair,
I dare to compare myself with the supporters,
defenders of the length though “at my age, I
S
H
O
U
L
D”
cut it in a current style to look younger, I’m told.
Stand up. Stand proud. Stand firm.
My hair length does not define my age, my hubris,
my intelligence, my popularity, my worth, or my freakiness.
Whatever… Maybe now I will be able to get a job. LOL
Work Yourself To Death
I have known you for a while.
Sometimes you have to work out of town.
I know that you need rest.
Your job will work you to death.
I have been down this road.
You deserve a break, you know.
I’m not sure how to ask you out.
This job will put you under the ground.
Our occupation is unforgiven.
You work more than me, no kidding.
I would give you a hug if you let me.
You need time off because you're always on your feet.
The high and mighty don’t appreciate you.
Throw your hands up and say your through.
You need a place to escape.
Far away from this place.
One day you might find someone.
He could be at home waiting for ya.
You can’t work forever.
I would hold your hand with no pressure.
You don’t owe them anything.
I’m sorry that you have so much on your plate.
Roses are red,
Your smile is beautiful.
I would give you rest,
Under the moon.
Beyond a job
there is a career
there is satisfaction
there is growth
there is excitement
there are endless tomorrows
there is a purpose
there is education
there is joy
there is fulfillment
there are welcome surprises
there is a reward
there is competition
there is pride
there is achievement
there are stacks of benefits.
Not thinking beyond ‘A job’,
you feel sad or stuck yet?
Why ask me
what I hope to be?
Why rate my worth
before you’ve seen me work?
Is my CV not enough?
A story told so clear and tough.
I earned my degree
and dream to lead and to oversee.
I’ve been a clerk
and I left my mark.
Each line on that page
holds my skills and my stage.
So why the doubt?
Why push me out?
I have what it takes, can’t you see?
I’m ready to be the manager I’m meant to be.
If someone walk further than you
Do not be offended. It always happen.
Take advantage of you being alone
It's good for the mind and health
If you're not happy with your work,
Quit. Find job that suits your will
Don't compromise with your enemies
This will find them more insulting
Don't be humble. Be a personality.
Always regard importance of yourself
Work always with love in your heart
And you will find contentment in life.
Interpreters lead a monotonous life
Always sitting behind close doors
Repeating what other people say
Again and again and cautiuosly
Their job isn't just about language translation
They serve as bridge, ships, high-speed trains
And shipping routes that connect the world
Do you think they are great
But I'd like to be one of them.
You were sharp|ning grass
With your eyes | sit & fixed
Again | a substitute for mow|n
Machine chug|ging along lug
Nuts, molar friction | u - r - n .
Lawn stretches of up|beat
Beach | was there even wind?
Filet a cannonade me | see
The crayons fly | in a circle
A head | towards blu|er | stretches
There | where clouds resemble.
Light is a commodity, scream!
Silly | man | omnibus no teacher
Not even a man. Well still: Lorine
Niedecker e|merges like new
Breath, pulp come together
Mis|hearing cranes, a making
Multicolor wax, bending fuse
Forge |X| fissure for left foot |
Right foot,—we'll find a job a kind
Of game | it’s just planes turned
Paper crane | creosote guardians
A dead lean-to shouldering volts.
I want a job the young man said
But not that one or the other two
Father-in-law was not impressed with Ed
Offered him a great job, told daughter Sue.
He has to have the right fit, she replied.
Has to feel right, wants the ideal life
Six other job offers, but he had his pride.
Spent thirty years living off his wife.