A summer job to make a few bucks
While home from college one year
Cleaning desks; sweeping floors
Up at our middle school
Worked early in morning long
Before summer heat would peak through afternoon
Cleaning restrooms; cleaning rooms
Getting ready when students come back
Slave the day away doing something I didn’t enjoy
Cleaning from top to bottom to many rooms to count
Glad when summer was over; back to college I would go
Next year I’d have to find a better job
One that didn’t involve clean rooms and floors
April 24th Prompt: List all the jobs you have had, including volunteer work and other unpaid jobs. Turn the list into a list poem by rearranging, repeating, or just by titling it. OR write a poem about one of them.
My friend unfortunately doesn’t have job.
She has been unemployed all her life.
She stays at home;
Sleeping every chance, she gets.
To say she has a profession;
Would be to underscore the meaning.
For she windows watches and play,
When she is not involved in sleeping.
But, her job is to love unconditionally her owner.
She smiles, softens the bad days.
She licks her encouragement.
She brings enjoyment in the home
With her sometimes-crazy ways.
I realize she is lucky to not to work
But, days can be boredom with nothing to do.
For a dog’s life is simple at its best,
Just relaxing at home and doing things on at your own pace.
April 12th Prompt: Write a poem about a friend’s profession or job. What have you realized about the job through this person that you might not otherwise have known.
Few months back I recall
On Tuesday received a call did I
A job offer for new job for me.
Caller explained on Tuesday
What the offer entailed.
Stunned I was to say the least
Speechless beyond words to say.
Told the day I could start
I thanked him and we hung up.
Rest of Tuesday I felt on cloud nine
Over the moon for a new job
Which would be started soon.
April 14th 2016 Poem: Throw-Back Thursday or Monday-Monday: Write a poem about something that happened to you on a day (not date) that seems significant, Monday or Thursday or any other day of the week, but state the day three times in the poem.
Awake from little sleep
I walk through the motions like a robot
I get ready to go to work.
Like a faithful dog I head to my job
I feel invisible shackles around my feet
Pulling me to a job I don’t want to go.
Every day and every week
I am pulled to go to work.
I try to shed these shackles
And think what else I can do
But no time, to tried to think,
No time after an eight or nine hour day.
I feel like a slave bound to dead end job
That to be free of these shackles
I can have the freedom to choose a job
That is right for me.
Can there be more out there for a job
Beyond the hills that I try to climb
To climb to what my job dream should be
I need to continue to head toward that dream
However high that dream will be.