#profession - Hello Poetry

Here is a carrot we made it from sticks eat it eat the stick carrot or by gosh we’ll hit you with this stick which is not made of carrots now here’s a survey about how you feel which we also made from sticks although it doesn’t matter if it’s glass or gold we won’t look at it anyway so eat the stick carrot and try not to look over there where they’ll give you actual carrots and sticks are frowned upon oh you’ve gone

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Sep 10, 2021

Sep 10, 2021 at 12:50 PM UTC

drunkenkind

Career development

Here is a carrot we made it from sticks eat it eat the stick carrot or by gosh we’ll hit you with this stick which is not made of carrots now here’s a survey about how you feel which we also made from sticks although it doesn’t matter if it’s glass or gold we won’t look at it anyway so eat the stick carrot and try not to look over there where they’ll give you actual carrots and sticks are frowned upon oh you’ve gone

21

Maybe Dracula was a phlebotomist. In which case, he was only doing his job, and pretty well, at that!

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Nov 12, 2019

Nov 12, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC

Carlo-C-Gomez

Blood Bank Guy

Maybe Dracula was a phlebotomist. In which case, he was only doing his job, and pretty well, at that!

5

As I sat by the window sill Decked in grey garb Listening to adumbrations And other grey garbage, My eyes were drawn beyond the room, Out across an odd sea of serrated roofs Till I saw, On a sandy patch of land Ten boys and a ball. I sat between my passion and my profession, Peering out the window of my profession. I watched engrossed, my passion Bib around my neck, Boots upon their feet. “LD/HCR/.... “ The court clerk cried. I profess passion for another profession, I’m not a professional at my passion, But I can profess my profession passionately! And so I rise... “May it please this honourable court...” And it was ******

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Sep 24, 2018

Sep 24, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC

JonesAyuwo

Passion and Profession

As I sat by the window sill Decked in grey garb Listening to adumbrations And other grey garbage, My eyes were drawn beyond the room, Out across an odd sea of serrated roofs Till I saw, On a sandy patch of land Ten boys and a ball. I sat between my passion and my profession, Peering out the window of my profession. I watched engrossed, my passion Bib around my neck, Boots upon their feet. “LD/HCR/.... “ The court clerk cried. I profess passion for another profession, I’m not a professional at my passion, But I can profess my profession passionately! And so I rise... “May it please this honourable court...” And it was ******

22

A teacher is honored adored and idolized, A doctor considered almighty and worshiped into. An engineer portrayed as the pillars of future, A bureaucrat painted like a messenger from above. But little does the world know the truth of the twilight, everyone coming here for services under the low lit alleys. Alleys that are always looked below ironically are the alleys of forbidden pleasure, all i am is just another soul working to feed her kind Abused shamed and discriminated forced to bear an illicit fruit only to realize she shares the same plight as mine and yet i put on a smile to serve every night only to pave a different path, a path abiding the "NORMS" of society.

0

Sep 22, 2018

Sep 22, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC

suhas

The dark twilight

A teacher is honored adored and idolized, A doctor considered almighty and worshiped into. An engineer portrayed as the pillars of future, A bureaucrat painted like a messenger from above. But little does the world know the truth of the twilight, everyone coming here for services under the low lit alleys. Alleys that are always looked below ironically are the alleys of forbidden pleasure, all i am is just another soul working to feed her kind Abused shamed and discriminated forced to bear an illicit fruit only to realize she shares the same plight as mine and yet i put on a smile to serve every night only to pave a different path, a path abiding the "NORMS" of society.

22

An udder of lies A profession You are an utter lung Fresh of breath You prove yourself Over and over To be evident and no false seller But a greeder within me That I offer meals no longer Stirs in its dormancy Alters in recognition of you : Double Tongue

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Jun 28, 2018

Jun 28, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC

neth-jones

D.T.

An udder of lies A profession You are an utter lung Fresh of breath You prove yourself Over and over To be evident and no false seller But a greeder within me That I offer meals no longer Stirs in its dormancy Alters in recognition of you : Double Tongue

12

Gloved hands flex in umbra of night a cot rocks, glittering in the rays of moonlight baby coos, shaking its rattle the leathery hands stalk the craddle finding their prey, the gloves seek the neck like guillotine, they reap ... they reap Every idea meets this end Every dream of mine every prayer In infancy they glow then glow no more throttled by shame, they break chastised by fear, they fade I would rock them, nestled in coaxing arms, close to my heart the clock chimes its hour with pride and finality at midnight, the reaping begins upon the witching hour, my dreams are snuffed and nightmares usurp their place. Is it torment to expect more of myself? Content to write poetry and leave epic tales of heroes and nemeses to doom and dust? How many old lovers have I professed my dreams to how many friends have I bored with my tales how many family members smiled as I asserted my storytelling chops only so I could stop, even before the period could halt the last sentence of the novel, thwarting its purpose. How many heroes clambered upon my doorstep begging, pleading for me to pen their heroism How many villains woke me up with their cackling In the corner, sitting, their eyes glowing in the void of night, smiling teeth too white or too black feathered hats bobbing as their malice peaks when they hold snaking knives to my throat and with morbid breath instruct, "For the love of God..." they say, "Paint me in a good light, but make my misdeeds known, **** you!" And I would lay awake, dreaming of these worlds until the clocks knell knell knell knell allowing the ebb of time to wash away my desires, my talents and the glistening, far-off worlds fade to nothing... In the end, indeed, even my mind fades leaving nothing but a husk behind and all who knew come to watch hanging a tombstone upon my rigor mortis neck, it reads the words, "He tried, of course he tried but the devil has his price, and this poor soul couldn't make rent."

0

Dec 6, 2017

Dec 6, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC

DEW

Fears Devour My Passions Devour My Fears...

Gloved hands flex in umbra of night a cot rocks, glittering in the rays of moonlight baby coos, shaking its rattle the leathery hands stalk the craddle finding their prey, the gloves seek the neck like guillotine, they reap ... they reap Every idea meets this end Every dream of mine every prayer In infancy they glow then glow no more throttled by shame, they break chastised by fear, they fade I would rock them, nestled in coaxing arms, close to my heart the clock chimes its hour with pride and finality at midnight, the reaping begins upon the witching hour, my dreams are snuffed and nightmares usurp their place. Is it torment to expect more of myself? Content to write poetry and leave epic tales of heroes and nemeses to doom and dust? How many old lovers have I professed my dreams to how many friends have I bored with my tales how many family members smiled as I asserted my storytelling chops only so I could stop, even before the period could halt the last sentence of the novel, thwarting its purpose. How many heroes clambered upon my doorstep begging, pleading for me to pen their heroism How many villains woke me up with their cackling In the corner, sitting, their eyes glowing in the void of night, smiling teeth too white or too black feathered hats bobbing as their malice peaks when they hold snaking knives to my throat and with morbid breath instruct, "For the love of God..." they say, "Paint me in a good light, but make my misdeeds known, **** you!" And I would lay awake, dreaming of these worlds until the clocks knell knell knell knell allowing the ebb of time to wash away my desires, my talents and the glistening, far-off worlds fade to nothing... In the end, indeed, even my mind fades leaving nothing but a husk behind and all who knew come to watch hanging a tombstone upon my rigor mortis neck, it reads the words, "He tried, of course he tried but the devil has his price, and this poor soul couldn't make rent."

51

four decades of professional life considered with benevolence (how else …?) have altogether not turned out so badly even though no party politics helped me climb the ladder of not so easy scholarly achievement often in the beginning I discovered that my politeness was mistaken for simplicity and so I had to learn a bit about how I could stand my ground to kick the shins of those who thought they could step on my toes with cool impunity until they noticed that they were mistaken over the years I found my ways to garner not everybody’s love but their respect and recognition which is what we all mostly need eventually

0

May 17, 2017

May 17, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC

wwhoelbling

professional life

four decades of professional life considered with benevolence (how else …?) have altogether not turned out so badly even though no party politics helped me climb the ladder of not so easy scholarly achievement often in the beginning I discovered that my politeness was mistaken for simplicity and so I had to learn a bit about how I could stand my ground to kick the shins of those who thought they could step on my toes with cool impunity until they noticed that they were mistaken over the years I found my ways to garner not everybody’s love but their respect and recognition which is what we all mostly need eventually

21

Sa probinsiyang kinalakihan ko, Bata man o matanda ay nagtatrabaho. Sa lugar kung saan marami ang tanim na tubo, Lahat ay maagang gumigising at nagbabanat ng buto. Sa malawak na lupain sinimulan nilang magtanim, Mula umaga, tanghali, at hanggang pagsapit ng dilim. Hindi inaalintana ang init, sakit, at hapdi na kinikimkim, Maitawid lamang sa gutom ang pamilyang pinatitikim. Kahit kapiranggot man ang kanilang kinikita, O minsan wala talagang may madudukot sa bulsa, Ngiti sa kanilang labi'y hindi mawala-wala, Pagka't pamilya ay tunay na mahalaga sa kanila. Puso ko'y nahahabag, nalulungkot, at nagsusumamo, Sanay mapansin sila ng mga tao sa gobyerno, Dagdagan sana nila ang kita ng mga manggagawang sinsero, Sa pagtatrabaho nang buong puso at may totoong prinsipyo. Magsasaka man sila, **** haciendero, o barbero, Pantay-pantay sana ang pagtingin natin sa mga ito. Kung wala sila, paano ang bansa natin aasenso? Manggagawa po sila, nilikha ng Diyos bilang tao. Nawa'y mapakinggan bawat nilang gusto, Itaas ang kita ng manggagawang Pilipino. Kumilos na sana ang ating gobyerno, Huwag nilang hayaang sila'y magpakalayo-layo.

0

Aug 12, 2016

Aug 12, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC

eugene

Manggagawa

Sa probinsiyang kinalakihan ko, Bata man o matanda ay nagtatrabaho. Sa lugar kung saan marami ang tanim na tubo, Lahat ay maagang gumigising at nagbabanat ng buto. Sa malawak na lupain sinimulan nilang magtanim, Mula umaga, tanghali, at hanggang pagsapit ng dilim. Hindi inaalintana ang init, sakit, at hapdi na kinikimkim, Maitawid lamang sa gutom ang pamilyang pinatitikim. Kahit kapiranggot man ang kanilang kinikita, O minsan wala talagang may madudukot sa bulsa, Ngiti sa kanilang labi'y hindi mawala-wala, Pagka't pamilya ay tunay na mahalaga sa kanila. Puso ko'y nahahabag, nalulungkot, at nagsusumamo, Sanay mapansin sila ng mga tao sa gobyerno, Dagdagan sana nila ang kita ng mga manggagawang sinsero, Sa pagtatrabaho nang buong puso at may totoong prinsipyo. Magsasaka man sila, **** haciendero, o barbero, Pantay-pantay sana ang pagtingin natin sa mga ito. Kung wala sila, paano ang bansa natin aasenso? Manggagawa po sila, nilikha ng Diyos bilang tao. Nawa'y mapakinggan bawat nilang gusto, Itaas ang kita ng manggagawang Pilipino. Kumilos na sana ang ating gobyerno, Huwag nilang hayaang sila'y magpakalayo-layo.

24

*A CV's like a baby, it has to first sit before it crawls and then it stands before it walks... step by step till it's grown and too fat for its bearer to carry. Some skip a stage, but such a miracle's rare even in the professional and business world.*

0

May 31, 2016

May 31, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC

ignatius-hosiana

Curriculum Vitae

*A CV's like a baby, it has to first sit before it crawls and then it stands before it walks... step by step till it's grown and too fat for its bearer to carry. Some skip a stage, but such a miracle's rare even in the professional and business world.*

12

I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I admired the way it had caressed my face. The way it cupped my cheeks and combed through my tousled hair. I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I was infinitely enamoured with its playful but gentle ways. The way it would upset the serenity of my clothes. The way it would engulf me cool on a hot sunny day. I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I get addicted to the way it would reach into my lungs and abscond with my breath. Leaving me asphyxiated for a brief moment before mischievously introducing new air; hale and fresh. I still profess my love to the wind... I'd profess my adoration for the way she fills my sails full and my heart full of hope. For I am a lone sailor in a crowded ocean. Sailing in a vessel bound for nowhere... Traversing time and space with my love, my breeze... my air. .

0

Feb 22, 2016

Feb 22, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC

ryn

Profession

I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I admired the way it had caressed my face. The way it cupped my cheeks and combed through my tousled hair. I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I was infinitely enamoured with its playful but gentle ways. The way it would upset the serenity of my clothes. The way it would engulf me cool on a hot sunny day. I once professed my love to the wind... I had professed that I get addicted to the way it would reach into my lungs and abscond with my breath. Leaving me asphyxiated for a brief moment before mischievously introducing new air; hale and fresh. I still profess my love to the wind... I'd profess my adoration for the way she fills my sails full and my heart full of hope. For I am a lone sailor in a crowded ocean. Sailing in a vessel bound for nowhere... Traversing time and space with my love, my breeze... my air. .

32