#labour poems on Hello Poetry

Connor Exodus Dec 2015

There is a fascicle
Of anticipation in
Labour inside my
Brain – where
Hope can spurt
And spit through
Chance. Though
I see it I can no
Longer nurture
Matters of disgust.
There is a funeral
Inside of my eyes
Which sit like the lazy
Cup of tea on my
Table. And it whispers
To me in the warning
Of a night so coldly
Scarce of cheer.

Open to interpretation.

#hope #brain #night #cold #chance #disgust #tea #labour #anticipation #spit

Maggie Emmett Nov 2015

Where Ships Come to Die

On the mud flats of Padma Delta
where the mighty Ganges slides
into the Bay of Bengal
ships come to die.

Rusting oil tankers,
container ships from Panama
passenger liners,
and cargo ships from Zanzibar
North Sea fishing boats
research vessels and mother ships
anything that floats
each one has made its final trip.

Steel Leviathans
low tide beached
oil-slick stuck.

Metal monoliths
****** deep
into black sand.

The people of Sitakunda
come marching, ants
across the slippery surface
of diesel sand
to pick the carcasses apart.

Barefoot, with only blow torches
hammers and brute strength
wrenching rivets, nuts and bolts
breaching beams and deck
splitting welded seams
until the hulls are gutted
ribbed struts broken down
and torn from the edges of shape

Bit by bit
they scour and empty
right down to the core.

Bit by bit
they carry *****
to the waiting shore.

Where melting pots are kept boiling
giant stock pots stewing goodness
in a broth
but metallic flavours and oily spiced stench
hang in the misty bleakness of the bay

Skeleton hulks shift and ride
lurching, lifting with the tide
rolling, dangerous still
collapsing, with groaning creak
to maim, to crush and ****
the daring, the slow and the weak.

© M.L.Emmett

First published in New Poets 14' Snatching Time'

#poverty #hardship #labour #india #ships

Roger Turner - Poet Sep 2015

Working Man

Another Day
Another dollar
That's what I get
For, I'm blue collar
Working hard
For all the bosses
Sitting upstairs
In the office

Grab a coffee
On the way
do the same stuff
every day
nothing changes
It's routine
That's the way
It's always been

I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man

Twenty minutes
and two breaks
That is all
The time I take
Sneak a smoke
When I can
This is the life
Of a working man

Old and rusted
two tone truck
Always busted
Just my luck
Working hard
To make a dollar
It's the lot
of a blue collar

I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man

#man #blue #hard #working #labour #road #trucks #office #collar #warehouse

HRTsOnFyR Aug 2015

Realignment

Life is like a thousand
piece jigsaw puzzle
opened up on Christmas morning,
Laid out on
the formica top kitchen table.
All you see
is a sea of colors,
endless and random...
An unsurmontable feat before you.
Suddenly it happens...
You find two matching shapes,
then a third,
And before you know it
A corner piece...
The edges becoming more obvious.
A picture begins
forming in your mind's eye...
Confusion becomes creation
Labor's sweet reward finally realized.

#faith #endurance #creation #work #chaos #labour #reward #loveistheanswer

Christopher K Bayliss Jul 2015

A Letter to David

Dear Mr Cameron, what are you trying to do,
you are getting rid of soldiers by score.
You are turning "Good Old Blighty"
into Europe's private Loo.
and on the side you want us all to go to war.

With the cut-backs,
will they get there.
Do we know if they can swim
                         Perhaps ask your mate OBAMA
may let them ride with him.

It seems that you "Prime Minister"
forget who pays your wage
You want to spend those Billions
on a brand new railway line

You will save, what, 30 minutes
which is really not an age
But like many of your policy's
you'll very likely change your mind.

I find a piece of paper
would help you without a doubt
If the things you write seem stupid
                           when you read
and the figures don't look viable
                 you could always rub them out
This would then leave lots of money
for the things we really need.

Didn't anybody tell you
when you did first get the     job                                                                                                                         That "for" the British people
                                   you are meant to do some good.
Not to make the poor get poorer
                and be forced to go and rob .
Should we re-employ that man
called Robin Hood.

Get a grip I say to you,
do yourself a favour.                                                                                                                  Perhaps staying in this country
you may not lose out to Labour.

You penalize the unemployed
who cannot get a job.
But for the rich
you keep the taxman from their door
and for your mate the banker you
will save him a few bob.
How about some time and effort
aimed a little more at the poor.

We all know what Obama
really does expect from you,
but remember every now and then
it's good to tell him, No.                                                                               You don't have to walk behind him
doing what he wants you to.
It would be nice if you politely
could tell him where to go.

Also!
Brussels cannot rule
this country any longer.                                                                                     Who do they think they are making
all these stupid rules.
Whilst we weaken this UK
they get stronger every day,
do they forget we won a war
and we are far from being fools.

I do hope "Mr Cameron"
you might think about today
and contemplate upon the issues
that I and others raise.
Then instead of pleasing Europe
and the good old USA,
you might keep that job of yours and
warrant a little praise.

A poem that was included in earlier anthologies. Written when David Cameron won his first term as Prime Minister and just after the failure of the then Conservative government to take our troops into Syria after the Labour party voted them down.

#usa #labour #government #obama #conservative

MV Blake May 2015

Blue eyed vampires

We thought we had the vampires done,
Cornered as we raised the stakes.
The fiends were caught against the font,
An end to this for all our sakes.
How foolish to believe
That the stake would push itself,
How blinded must we be
To think we'd help ourselves.

We fell back in confusion
As their eyes lit stars of blue,
Our fiery brand burned red in fear
But the flames sputtered out on cue.
We faced the devils in their line
But they withstood our empty threats,
And took us off one by one;
It was time to pay our debts.

They laughed at our misfortune.
And gave us back our forks,
They pointed at our dampened brand
And sent us back to work.
They drank from tattooed necks
And supped from elder veins,
And bled the middle dry
And fed upon their brains.

They tore up all our rights
And placed death upon a throne,
Who drove out justice in the night
While Liber's throat did moan.
They sold us all as slaves
To merchants draped in skin,
Cut from children's backs
As the devils slowed their spin.

So now we work until we drop,
Exhausted in our penury.
We're fed from blood banks on each street
While we think that we're still free.
The vampires grin within their church
And play at pious once a while,
And watch with glee as all they cut
Divides us up in our denial.

In May 2015, the UK gave a majority to the Conservative Party (Blue) in the general election, despite the polls predictions of a Labour (Red) government. The circus leading up to the election was fascinating, as party leaders battled rhetoric on the stands, the people discussed tactical voting, and, in the final week, controversial comedian-turned-political activist Russell Brand publicly endorsed Ed Milliband, the Labour Party leader, for Prime Minister. Not that it mattered, as the Conservatives managed to hold on to power in alarming fashion, with the majority of seats in the House of Commons turning blue overnight. The country waits with bated breath to see what will happen next as the Tories, after five years of a coalition government with the Liberal Democrats, finally have the power to enact their plans...

#politics #labour #election #vampires #conservative

Paul Sands Mar 2015

we were expendable

no more rush for the factory gates

or bleary welcomes after whistle led race

no longer the shouts of “what shift you on mate?”

and befuddled replies “earlies, no, lates!”

the comforting throng of familial mass

at the end of each day that held no disgrace

when a days hard work meant a days earned pay

something they somehow forgot to replace

as our livelihoods fled to cheaper climes

and our citadels of labour fell rotting, debased

simplistic words written back in 2012 but still pertinent in the climate of fearfulness, spite and hatred our so called leaders impose on us

#betrayal #class #work #labour #obsolete

axr Dec 2014

she swings

she swings
thinking about her tomorrow
she swings
to get away from her sorrow
she swings
while her master is away
she swings
to get away from her fate
she swings
not laughing
she swings
discreetly as they continue fighting
she swings
knowing that she is reckless
she swings*
*counting seconds to her death

this is about child labour. in my country, child labour is still prominent. the other day, i saw an underage babysitter,no more than 13 years of age swinging on the swing while the kid continued to play elsewhere. her expression,her tears and empathy drove me to write this.
might add more later

#pain #child #labour #empathy #india

Maggie Emmett Jul 2014

Turkish Smyrna

This carpet - a Turkish Smyrna -
is made with Gordian knots,
tied by the fine fingers of a child
tied to a loom
by a thin, pale leg.

Every centimetre - a hundred knots
This carpet - two and a half million knots
all Gordian
tied tightly
by the fine fingers of a child.

Each thread is dyed
with plants
picked by nomad hands
from shifting lands
Henna oranges and Madder reds
Saffron yellows and Indigo blues
Colours bloom and fade
with the change of seasons.

Patterns are centuries old,
never drawn or sketched,
only sung to the young
by the old blind weavers,
who walk the workshops
and the aisles of looms.

In this shadow world
of soured and fetid air
dreamless children
live threadbare under a black sun.

Wide borders holding everything in place
no figures or stories, just a labyrinth
of abstract shape and colour
drawing you in to the treasure
at the centre of the rug.

And the knowledge of the knots
the Gordion knots
tied by the fine fingers of a child
tied to a loom
by a thin, pale leg.

This poem tries to capture the rythmn of the old men singing the patterns. It tries to capture their rich colours an beauty but present the misery of the child labourers.

#sun #world #black #child #labour #turkish #smyrnashadow