Work On It Poems - Poems about Work On It

at one with nature the sun sets on the weary ~ reward for hard work...

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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....

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To be literary only if it is of matrix of all colors high writing only if it is sculpted iron and strength ...

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Having learnt the art from her mom, ...

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******************************************* ...

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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...

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To to dummy that has been stealing my work I have my original work saved on an usb Stop rewriting and changing titles on my work They always blame things on hackers, but this is an inside jobs the truth is the truth, Its time for this old patriarchial system to die these covens will be done away with!...

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Written December 19, 2024 Constantly find myself looking for a thrill Another day another week another year but still I might as well be right back where it all began Still looking in the stands for my biggest fan Nothing compares to the fever dream Yet I think I might be running out of steam At times I dream of the corner...

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The city speaks in static not loud, not soft, just indifferent. It hums beneath the sky's neon bruise, where overpasses arc like broken spines above rivers of unmoving faces. I wait for nothing at the pedestrian bend a chipped corner where the dust gathers like the memory of a voice I haven't heard since home. The gum-stained cement remembers me. The railings dull with a thousand...

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They bore the winds of time as they rose from arid lands. They sun poked past one peak while my work crew waited to move to another place on the highway, and we knew the day would fade. We knew highways must always be mended and the same with our lives. We spoke in hushed voices among these hills made when the earth shifted. Somewhere beyond rested a...

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Oh, hail the champions of the couch potato throne, Whose true inspiration is laziness alone! From the depths of sloth, great inventions arise, A tribute to those who prefer their dreams to the skies. The remote control, a marvel of our time, No more adjusting; we’ve reached our prime! With just...

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poets ! poétesses !! be vigilant about word a R t human space-time spoken _____________read amicability secondary to truth technique the tool form 4 beauty beat 2 rythm 4+2...

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My Work I wonder why we call it “work”, When it is, quite obviously… Something we love to do, something more than “work” Something tender and true, a poem – a song – our muse It is more than “work” because it breathes From the spirit living deep within From the heart who hears – His voice Offering a new word,...

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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...

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I’m proud to serve, that’s true as hell, But sometimes I wonder why we’re here to rebel— Not against the mission, not against the fight, But the brass and the game that fogs up the right. They say it’s a brotherhood, shoulder to shoulder, But I see ‘em slicked up, gettin' rank over the bolder. The ones who dodge grime, fresh-pressed...

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