work
My Poem “The Best That They Can Be”
How do you restart an engine? How do you reawaken the spark within? How do you remember who you are, who you were, and how you used to do what you used to do after so long of living in a state of limbo? How do you find your place once again somewhere, doing something, around people who you haven't seen for a long time? In my experience the only way forwards is perseverance, patience, repetition, and adaptation - until the moment arrives when you regain a sense of momentum that gives you some much needed drive. When we have time on our hands and we are able to do what we want, with who we want, most people tend to not want to dwell upon anything associated with work; however, there are those people who like to take their profession home with them and they even enjoy "talking shop" with anybody who will listen to them... when we find ourselves with too much time on our hands sometimes people can start to think about, and even dream about, being at work - even those people who claim that if they didn't have to work they wouldn't. Some people can't wait to retire from the moment that they start their first day earning an income... some people can't wait to go home from the moment that they "clock in" at their place of employment... some people wish that they could turn their passion project or their hobby into something that can sustain them both creatively as well as financially... some people get up every day and go to work ready to face anything that comes their way and they are willing to do whatever they have to do in order to be the best that they can be.
My Poem “B.T.W.”
Going back to doing something –
even something that you used to
be able to do as if in your sleep –
is not always easy, especially after
a considerable amount of time has passed…
even resuming doing something
that you used to consider routine
can take a while to click
back into place and does not
automatically return to your memory without difficultly, nor fast…
after you have spent some time
out of a particular loop
you can sometimes make mistakes
as you try to slip back into
performing and repeating a cycle
just as if you were attempting
to put on an old pair of shoes…
putting on clothes that you know
you only wear when and where
you are clocking in to return to work
does help someone in finding the right
mind-set to go where they need to go
so that they can once again do
what they need to do…
when you see businesses closing,
when you see people struggling,
when you see a world in chaos
then you appreciate the fact
that you still have what you have,
you still have who you have,
and you can still do some of the things
that give a person a sense of identity
and routine in some way –
and though most people often gripe
about their job while they are doing it,
when people think back on a time
when they did not have something
to wake up for and somewhere to go to
then they begin to count their blessings
and thank God for still having a job
to do each and every day.
My Poem “Working Day”
Ice scraping… wheels spinning…
wind blowing… people shivering…
the air of the morning is freezing…
the winter weather of
this new morning is unforgiving.
Turn the heat up to the max…
watch your footing upon those slippery paths…
keep those windows closed
or you will feel the snap
of that deadly draft.
Blue sky… birds chirping as they fly…
Looks like the traffic is light?
But now red lights? Why?
I think some people need
to relearn how to drive?
Busy bees of the city –
people with somewhere to be…
On the radio I hear
that some trains have been cancelled,
that some cars have
broken down on some highways –
and I bet that there more than
a few people asking themselves right now
the question: why me?
Bikers weaving lane to lane –
those riders have got to be on their game…
A near-miss? Wow! That was close!
If that rider had been any slower then
right now they’d be toast.
Get to work with time to spare –
not the best feeling to be there…
hot coffee, calls to make,
not long until the next break…
hopefully the time today flies by –
hopefully 9 will soon turn into 5.
Driving home…
my bed is calling…
my phone is dying…
my stomach is rumbling…
might need to get
some take-out on my way –
because if I don’t
it’ll soon be too late.
Home safe… legs ache…
take-out meal still warm? Great!
Time to watch some TV? Ok!
Eyelids soon get heavy…
Hard to concentrate…
Need to sleep…
These days it is not as easy
as it used to be to stay up late.
Seems like the instant
that my head hits the pillow
my alarm clock is already waking me up –
and whether it want to or not
now I need to roll out of bed
and get up.
Another day, another dollar…
once again I am getting dressed,
and flattening down my collar –
and soon enough I am heading
out of the house
to restart the cycle,
and as always I hope and I pray
that I can once again make it through
the “rat race” of all that
life throws at the average person
on a typical, busy, often exhausting,
modern day, wild west of a working day.
My Poem “Night-Shift”
You can see more things
that make people tick,
you can see a completely
different way of life,
you can learn more about
how people live,
you can find out so much
about the world when
the sun has gone down
and the dark veil of the night-sky
both descends and rises –
especially if you work somewhere
and you are constantly
seeing people come and go:
whether it is a place where people meet,
like a coffee shop or a bar, or somewhere where people
go to get well like a hospital…
people who work a night-shift
sometimes see more than people
working a day-shift do…
it seems to me that you see more
about what makes humanity who and what it is
when you see them at their most vulnerable –
when their judgement and when their preconceptions
are impaired, and they are able to relax into
an experience with people who they
want to be around…
some people who work a night-shift
see the highest of highs and the lowest of lows –
they see and they encounter people
who have chosen to do things
that they knew would cause themselves
or others a great deal of harm…
some people see things,
some people hear things,
some people feel things at night
that sometimes follow them into their dreams
and haunt the hours of the day when they are awake…
some people actually like working
when everybody else in the surrounding area
is normally sleeping…
some people actually enjoy the job that they do
and their fellow “night-owls” that they work with…
some people working during the night
and encountering all the drives, vices,
and the people who choose to live their lives
under the shine of moonlight
rather than the golden halo of sunlight
is what gives them a reason to keep living…
for some people there is no other time
that they feel more alive
and are the most active
than while witnessing the constantly
revolving door of new faces
and unexpected occurrences that show
themselves and arise while they are
working on a night-shift.
My Poem “Commuters”
Commuters – all in their own worlds…
Commuters – all sitting in silence,
some not even uttering a single word…
Commuters – some transfixed and hypnotized
by the glowing screens of the mobile computers…
Commuters – fellow passengers on a journey,
all with their own destinations,
things to do, people to meet, and plans…
Commuters – some making the most of the free Wi-Fi…
Commuters – some listening to the radio,
some listening to their own music,
some watching an episode of their favourite T.V. show,
some getting lost in the story-line of a movie…
Commuters – some reading a book, some writing into a notebook,
some just looking out of the window
at all of the things that they pass…
Commuters – some talking on the phone,
some drinking a hot drink out of takeaway cup,
some thinking about how life is short
and how fast the years pass us all by…
Commuters – some sharing, some socializing,
some watching, some listening, some observing,
some interacting, some starting a new day,
some finishing a long night, some tired,
some inspired, some happy, some sad,
some optimistic, some reflective…
commuters all share something in common…
commuters are mostly all strangers to one-another –
and yet they find themselves sitting
with one-another for a reason…
commuters often repeat the same journey regularly,
and they get to recognize familiar faces
who they see often from those
who they just see once and never again…
some people like having the freedom
to go wherever they want in their own bubble of isolation –
however, there are those who enjoy the ritual
of leaving their home and joining
the other travelers who daily have to
make their way to somewhere they need to go
by sharing a communal experience with fellow commuters.
My Poem ‘Your Day’
Everyone, from every walk of life,
everywhere, knows and is familiar
with that feeling of relief
that overcomes us all
the minute that we finish a long day at work,
and we arrive home sweet home,
and we sit down and rest,
and put the events of the day we have had behind us –
especially if we have had a day
that felt as endless as the universe;
everyone, anyone, everybody, anybody,
who has a job or an occupation
that sometimes feels like a treadmill,
knows the full meaning of the old saying
“the only way forward is through”,
and it is amazing how good you feel
after a hard day at work –
it is unbelievable how much energy you have
when you walk through your front-door at home,
because that sensation lifts in no time at all,
and you may even resemble, as you sit in your chair,
the sight of a balloon that has recently burst.
Just like a car running on fumes,
as it finally reaches
and rolls onto the forecourt of a fuel station,
every working man and woman
also needs to refuel and build up their energy levels,
and take a break from what they need to do,
and relax while doing what they love to do,
and cool the temperature of their spirit –
like newly-forged white-hot metal.
Some people relax in front of their TV,
while watching their favourite television show;
some people lay back, put their feet up,
and listen to the latest songs
that are playing on the radio;
some people jump straight into the bath,
or into the shower, and wash away their day,
and let all their work-related stresses drift away;
some people put on their headphones,
and sit in their bedroom, on their bed,
listening to their mp3 player,
as they listen to their favourite artists
telling them what they need to hear –
because they know all the right things to say;
some people read a book;
some people write;
some people reach out for someone for a hug;
some people get changed from their work clothes,
eat, drink, turn off their phones,
and settle down for a quiet night.
Everyone’s day is their own;
everyone feels more like themselves when they are at home;
everyone has thoughts and feelings that are hard to convey;
everyone who has someone, or something, to come home to –
even if that is a mirrored reflection of themselves
that they can see into –
is lucky to have someone, or something,
that they can reply to,
when they are asked the question:
how was your day?
My Poem ‘Five’
Some people work all through the night;
some people have to get up before the sun rises,
and work all day;
some people have to wear a specific uniform,
or a particular kind of attire-
like a shirt and tie;
some people have to fight through busy traffic
in a car, on a bus, on a bike, on foot,
that is the same every day in every way.
There are more jobs in this world
than most people know about;
there are more ways to pay your way in life
than can be imagined;
there are jobs that can keep someone dry
and warm on a rainy day;
there are some jobs that on a sunny day
you can take great pleasure,
just because you are able to be out and about;
there are jobs that you have to travel to and from by train;
there are jobs that when you try to describe them
they are hard to convey.
People have lots that they have to work with;
people have lots of coworkers who they have to work alongside;
people have jobs that they sometimes find hard to live with;
people have jobs that they know they will be doing
until the day they die.
You are truly blessed in your life
if you can do and enjoy a job that you do,
which you love doing;
I envy those people who can be
who they want to be all of the time-
to have the chance to live their dream,
some people would do anything.
The perfect job and profession,
to me, is one that does not pay the most,
and is not all about how it is valued
by the amount of zeroes that follow
the pound, or the dollar, sign.
Finding a job and having a job that you like doing
and care about is a rare thing to have indeed;
when you have not had a job and you want a job,
any job, you will do all that you need;
some jobs that people do constantly reinvigorate them,
make them feel a sense of achievement,
and make them feel alive.
If you are someone who genuinely likes, or even loves,
what they do for a living,
think of it as a walk in the park,
or a steady countryside drive-
whatever you do, wherever you work,
whether you are on a shift from seven until seven,
from sunrise to sunset,
or behind a desk or a table every day of the week,
from nine til five.
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