MY JOB

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  • Sadness

    Poem Commentary

    my job was bad and the in was nothin to write home about and i go as early as the cork crow and late at night the wage was very small

    MY JOB

     My kind of job
    That made a JOB
    Made meignorant of my city
    Ignorant of my state
    Ignorant of the happenings inin the present stake

    So much rooms for stress
    So much little to raise
    Keeping time at the dark noon
    Reminding mind of the work moon

    Waking up before the dark dawn
    Waking up the crow cork
    Coming late when darkness blinds the eye
    LATE-When darkness makes man to seek for fire

    The sweat in my job hurts more than the scorching sun's rays
    And the pence worth could not last for fifteen days
    My core thinking emanicipated my brain with eruption
    Was it the kind that put bread on the table?
    If they thought

    Then shame must be to their label
    MMM''' My job
    The job that worth me stress than joy     

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    ruthril’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    GOOD BYE I SAY 0 09/17/2009
    BEHOLD 0 09/14/2009
    MY JOB 0 09/02/2009
    MY TRUE LOVE 1 01/20/2009
    BROKEN HEART 3 01/19/2009
    I CRAVE 0 01/19/2009
    MISSING NUMBER 0 11/14/2008
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