Working Man Poems - Poems about Working Man

He wakes every morning before the rooster crows He gets up and puts on his work clothes He moves a little slower His smile hangs a little lower He knows he’s getting older He can feel it in his shoulders Not one to complain He works through the pain He doesn’t mind It’s all part of...

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Living through the raging storm I am battered yet still alive Thankful for God’s grace which help’s me to survive At times it seem’s the darkness is going to take my life But I hold on through the turmoil with visions of my children and my wife It is my duty to protect them Until I...

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The Working Man Should have been born with a dorsal fin That was made to stand proud Only for time and oppression to cause it fail Oh, tilikum, we weep The working man is made to perform His painted smile so fake To please his masters, to earn his food Oh, tyke shot 80 times, we weep His fighting spirit tamed at...

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One more time, I must reiterate one more time that I'm not complaining I'm for once trying to find the bright side of this inflatable balloon called life with a glass half full point of view but my bottle is all the way empty and I feel like throwing up Are the palms of my hands supposed to turn...

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Pray for the Working Man The one with calloused hands Who has often been forgotten On the roadside of life's demands The one that's seen faltering At every juncture, every step The one that seems to get it But hasn't got it yet Pray for the Working Man As he fights for what little's left Doing daily battles With the thoughts inside his head In what...

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The Working Man sought get old with my high school beard chased through each pillar a delight to deliver our nations youth in sorrowful truth got them knocking best north the working man nor a mere shoulder to cry out sweat the lulabye from a slight reply help you get by each new day let them come your way...

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Another Day Another dollar That's what I get For, I'm blue collar Working hard For all the bosses Sitting upstairs In the office Grab a coffee On the way do the same stuff every day nothing changes It's routine That's the way It's always been I am just a working man Doing the best job that I can Nine to Five, or Eight to Four Do my eight and out the door Loading trucks...

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working man early, six days before dawn while I, still curled warm in bed, listen he leaves whispers goodbye as he passes my door. every day as the noon whistle blows I carry his lunch pail we sit surrounded by scents wood, varnish, turps sunlight washing over us sandwiches, hot tea and stories. at night I wait perched on the stoop watch him stride down our street swinging his arms dusk crosses...

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The working man had five sons He had dreams of what they would become The eldest was not very strong And he weakness meant he didn't last long The next son in line had a ruthless streak And he was able to make his life complete The third eldest was the middle man And he would sit astride any disagreement This cost...

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"Nothing Like A Hard Working Man" He's a hustler By all meand He told me baby Nothing come to a sleeper but a dream(a dream) I am your provider I just need you to be my rider Promise that you'll be by my side That you'll always be truthful nothing to hide I get up everyday,to get out here and grind I am truly...

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This man cannot grasp His task at hand. With fervor he tries Diligently. Trying, working, his Sweat soaks his brow. It is getting dark. What will he do? He tries to finish But, can’t get it. The sun sets, time runs Out, defeated. Time to pack it in. He bows his head. Maybe next time, he Thinks to himself. With a last big sigh, He lays to rest. For soon the morning Breathes...

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This man cannot grasp His task at hand. With fervor he tries Diligently. Trying, working, his Sweat soaks his brow. It is getting dark. What will he do? He tries to finish But, can’t get it. The Sun sets, time runs Out, defeated. Time to pack it in. He bows his head. With a last big sigh, He lays to rest. Maybe next time, he Thinks to himself....

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A Hard Working Man Many days have gone by and still I hear you across from the depot There you sat on a bar stool and took off your ring Thought I'd try to get a closer look, so I walked on over As I sat down and started to ask him his name Then the drinks finally had...

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WORKING MAN he worries a lot about income as though money had anything to do with poetry he claims to work for me and the family and cannot figure out why we are not grateful we would still talk when he could feel before selfishness made us all thieves afraid of death he kills himself with work just to be safe keeping his passions on the side leaving a surrogate family lonely and disarmed © Kim van Breda—28...

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Working from dusk to dawn Going home worn out All he wants to do is go to bed and sleep But he has other things to do Take a shower and eat Watch a little television Read the newspaper Then he might go to bed Sleep endlessly Hear the alarm go off Time to get up Getting ready to...

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