Janitor Poems - Poems about Janitor

Though I am but a Janitor Roger White A dim yellow light filters the tiny room with shadow and pale glow. In a bucket - trickle, splash, whirl, woosh, trickle. The door groans and quietly latches. Wheels squeak, rubber soles shuffle slowly on tile floor. A little lost, a little lonely, yet content in his solitude, the janitor leads on...

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As corporate cogs go home for the day Offices empty, regaining their still. Serene and reflective, sweeping away Janitor’s magic unfolds, if you will. His footfalls echo as the dusk falls fast, Away from the noise, he’s working the night. Crucial starry role in a one man cast Sheds sparkle and shine by the morning light. Wonder...

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Did you know At the community hall The janitor cleans For no pay at all Quietly cleaning Day and night Crumbs and wrappers In his sight He never complains He just gets on Busily cleaning Til all is gone Modestly staying Out of view He seeks no praise From me or you Even leaving behind Gifts for us all Droppings aplenty...

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CHEERS FOR THE JANITOR I suppose I may be found in cluttered closets Or in empty rooms after hours I’m prowling Cleaning up so many unmentionable deposits That’s partly why they say I’m often scowling My job is neither management nor education Just all the manual tasks that others do reject It’s hardly reflected in my low remuneration So my grumpiness is not...

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He's a hard worker, Charged, Oh! Heavenly laden, Of stick and broom....

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When the owls are out of town his studded boots kick-up featherless hoots. He is the creak and groan of tired wood, The splutter of an old aircon yet more; all inexplicable noises belong to him. He crawls through crawl spaces to prop up places. A chunky phantom who tinkers with gurgling drains. He's the one who unplugs the unpluggable, then trips the fuse...

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When the owls are out of town his studded boots kick-up featherless hoots from struts, studs and props. He is the creak and groan of tired wood, the cough and splutter of the A/C. yet he is more; all inexplicable noises belong to him. He owns each nook and cranny rents out crawls-spaces to those that crawl. I hear him stumble bent between the rafters of starless...

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In our congress there's a sleeper cell. They'll not cherish our moment of silence for the three thousand souls that fell~ They despise the colors of our flag... the blood that was sacrificed for their right to talk smack and wear those fancy rags~ They've no respect for our history they plot and scheme to overtake. They'll use our freedoms against us our...

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The dead roach with its upended crinkly legs has been lying in the windowsill for at least four weeks. I would get rid of it, except... nothing has amused me for years half as much as people's horrified reactions when they notice her. This poor ugly black dead thing. I have decided to have a tiny plaque made, and a little...

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What a stockbroker did to a man was humiliating and demeaning. He constantly laughed at a man because his job involved cleaning. The stockbroker thought he was better than this man because he was a janitor. One day he had taken enough of his crap and he knocked the stockbroker to the floor. Sadly, the janitor was fired for...

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The Janitor Poem Lionel Derbyshire He takes the wipe and aims At the drip of urine He looks and concentrates With deep ambition to Wipe it clean and dry. He marches proudly up and down And flushes clean what's left behind He walks here and there And wipes whenever he can He keeps it clean. His face is brutal humble He does not grumble It is no trouble To clean a...

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Unquotable quotes: The Janitor, Gardienne, Landlady, Housekeeper, Portero, Sereno and the Hausgast –XXXii Part Two The duties of the Housekeeper in the U.K. par rapport au Portero in Spain or the Gardienne in France is that the former is a sort of “official” who supervises the activities of others who carry out the menial jobs in...

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Unquotable quotes: The Janitor, Gardienne, Landlady, Housekeeper, Portero, the Sereno and the Hausgast – XXXI Part One Be they so named or not in these here parts, visions of shrieking furies with Gorgon heads and frightful temple-guardian Dvarapalas and Gothic Frankensteins with blood-dripping fangs and gnarled claws loom into view at the very thought of...

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Joe the janitor, was working at area 51, as usual till there was no more sun, when suddenly the power went out, got a flashlight from his janitor cart, and quickly finished mopping the floor... Noticing the now unlocked highly classified door, knew he shouldn't go in, but his curiosity did win, and saw a martian laying there, when a fly buzzed right past him, and Joe...

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not down by the schoolyard but trapped in janitor attire shiny specks revealed beneath his dust he OWNS it! and controls sweeping motions and one more arm circle, still not tired. But cells shift into what Kandinsky couldn't describe in ever so many words and so many COLORS. Puff of breath reaches one arm out once more lurking around minute strength from growing thin moon. HIS boots are waning over dust heavy...

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