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We stay in the meat grinder
as kids are mostly good

we give our time to causes
that no other buggers would

we shoulder the weight
as our colleagues keep us up

we try to raise a thousand toasts
with nothing in our cup

we don’t do it for league tables
or targets plucked to reach

or for managers who do their jobs
as they do not/cannot teach

we do it as it’s in us
it is simply who we are

and we’ll do it til indifference
goes just one
We don’t often visit
the pit of our stomachs
but when we do
things just aren’t good
No sooner through the door
than spider-legged anxiety
scurries back haphazard
like a frenemy whose cactus skin hug
begins in September and ends in July
Correlation does not imply causation.

Solid, strong, fact.

But when the month long grey veil
that smothered our holiday is hauled back
just as we return,
sun and fat heat to grill us in our ties and blazers,
I’m inclined, for once, to thumb my nose at science:

nature abhors term time
How’s it going? Honestly?
C’mon, honest like 3 a.m. insomnia?

As the nights’ incremental dimming
draws us inwards,
how are you?

This idiot driven pantomime
of eighteen months
hit as hard as a guilt trip

So if you’re a little scarred,
a little scared,
it’s ok

They say that tomorrow is another day
which it is of course,
but the fear is it’ll send you
off course

But, my dears,
we’re all off course together

and who do I trust to help me
get back to happy paths?

Always, all ways
all of you x
Dave Robertson Dec 2020
Like silk threads, I watched my life today
stretch taught but hold,
colleagues and friends weighted,
reaffirming their bedrock
as again plates shifted

Our watered shoots
stood bewildered but steady,
as future wounds reached them
despite our insistent gauze

Looking through windows,
we grown, choked
as other faces told our pasts again

And we fought not to feel
though we knew that we had to

Because every day’s a school day
Dave Robertson May 2020
This is for us
who work with those
we love or tolerate
(hate seems a bit strong
for them we’re forced among,
it’s not like we’re a picnic either...)

You are mainly wonderful,
sometimes misguided,
but we’ll hide grumps
in flippant huffs
because we know the pull
is mostly in the same direction

But know we miss the scrum,
the ****** staff room air,
hurried tea and coffee
and meaningful cake

Daily, we take time to thank you
as we grapple this stupidity
that dwarfs all sense

The dinner table desk
is a lonely place
Zywa Jan 2019
Trailing behind
my long shadow, early in the day

I am expected
they know me

There is work to do, to discuss
and between the words

I want to embrace
my colleagues in my mind

We are going together
but we're not going

and that's okay
For Mark Huilmand and Marijke Terpstra #1

Collection "Summer birds"
Gods1son Oct 2018
I always try to make the right friends
Not those who wanna see my end
But those who bring out my best
Those that believe in my quest
Those that stick with me through my tests
Those that inspire me to invest
Those that share my interests
Those that keep my heart at rest
Those that live life with zest
That's what I watch out for in a friend
There is a saying... Show me your friends and I know who you are.
Glenn Currier Jun 2018
Dear friends many of you have moved
from surroundings I knew and loved with you
but my memories of us have not defused
like clouds hanging dark but always new.

In old age it is the memories that flow
and make you present with hearts beating wildly
times we drank beer decrying the status quo
and when we celebrated little things like being Friday.

We celebrated a lot when life was so full
alive with discoveries, conflicts, and diversity
when our desires and thoughts pushed and pulled
and we felt pain and hope in multiplicity.

But now so many of you are gone
to places unknown: some to you and some to me
and together we won’t know joys of new dawns
we will deal with things like that **** aching knee.

For some of you your children are grown
for me poetry, love, and God enliven and wake me up
but nobody can take from me the bonds I have known
bonds cast with you in sharing, caring, and lifting life’s cup.

In long moments in a waiting room
trying to ignore the next challenge of my body
I’ll be grateful. I’ll not dwell in spaces of doom
I’ll remember those times of being good or naughty.

I’ll visit the rooms and the halls
where we gathered to learn and teach
in those precious moments of my recall
I’ll gather you together for the universes we’ve yet to reach.

Written 6-30-18
This morning I came across a description of the “Epistolary poem” form and it gave me an idea to express to something I’ve been thinking about recently. The title reveals the addressees of the poem, but hopefully others will find something helpful or meaningful in it.
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