"drudgery" poems
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
-max
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 9:24 PM UTC
Rising like smoke from the eternal spring
Approaching with rose petals at her feet
Angel of hope sheds light on everything
Whenever life is bitter more than sweet
Within our secret gardens of desire
Fountains of sparkling passion locked away
Therein lies hope, forever to inspire
lest optimism ever goes astray
Age sometimes dims the dancing flame of hope
And drudgery weakens vitality
Darkness and sorrow sometimes interlope
Between us and our dearest fantasy
Yet human spirit finds a way to cope
As long as we find inroads back to hope.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
I don't ask your permission
to make a fool of myself,
tell you publicly
what my near, dear ones
have almost no clue
my mental torment,
headache-constant,
imperial and impervious
poetry, pills, therapy,
caring words
don't pay my kind of bills
a man has a job.
Feed you family.
Protect and serve.
do it well,
there is no acceptable excuse.
none.
was supposed to be easing on down,
slipping under.
come so far, my soul is old.
my tired is w/o definition.
the legs, knotted shoulders,
body aging faster than I can write.
the doctors only give me
if's and unless's,
contingencies in order
to die a little slower
warped, reversal of causality,
the older I get,
the more mouths to feed.
tough, this unexpected situation,
a nine lives time survivor,
do it again?
defraud myself,
living like I can afford
to write,
with courageous reckless abandon,
when earnest is deadly
and Lady Luck gave me the finger.
simply amazing.
eyes, constantly tearing,
nobody notices.
Do not ! Like this poem,
don't.
hate weak,
been strong so long.
this well, just got dregs left,
drudgery ain't potable, or even
worth drinking.
need nothing,
for myself, need nothing.
not one object on this planet
want to posses or be possessed by.
Monday wrestle with strife,
star in my reality show once again.
now, deny reality.
Do not!
Like this poem,
don't.
hate weak,
been strong so long.
my voice is stilled,
it's poverty exposed,
ashamed of every word I ever wrote.
hush me not, for tis true,
write on for an audience of one,
on but one subject,
a life, mine,
yet, still unmastered,
after decades of trying.
poverty exposed,
a life unmasked
for what it is worth,
or not.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
I miss my cargo green canvas backpack
Shredded with the mass of three
science textbooks: biology,
classical history, chemistry.
Not like backpack was meant for
several colossal three hundred page
hardcover books.
When it was empty,
it was light,
barely anything, tugging
on my shoulders;
but I insisted the friend come with me.
But I used backpack
for study,
drudgery,
play.
The linen wore
with every use.
It was my safety blanket,
under loose cloth
that contained
sacarine
orange glucose
tablets that I hoped
to never need
Inside the main large pocket,
there was a secret
zipper, within held
a pack of cigarettes,
an excuse,
to pardon myself into a realm of aloneness-
with little questions asked
There were strings that adjusted
its position on my back that
I would pull down,
using tension to fling myself
terminal to terminal
More than fifteen times, I lost
count, of my partner traversing
across oceans, gently cradling my laptop and phone-
my trusted links
with the outside world
Nervousness alleviated by the tassels
in my mouth, I bite and chew
on the cloth, but it holds steadfast
as I ponder how to approach
what's next,
the bittersweet coffee they fell into
rehydrates with my salivating mouth,
hungry for adventure
but a stomach empty
knots itself
anxious
for what's to come
My backpack weighs
on my shoulders, empty or full,
but it's trained my body
to carry the load thoughts in my
head bring upon me
But it yielded to what was to come,
the seams at the bottom gave out.
Backpack let me know: I needed to
learn to carry on
without reliance.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
White as winter skin,
expressionless faces z i p on by,
looking straight ahead
Timepieces remembered,
drudgery over leisure time
All in cadence, same beat, same drummer
Putting on Mona Lisa smiles
and handing out business cards
Numbers dominate words,
words mesh with numbers
Fast food, fast digestive systems
join Popeye's Whimpey ranks
Plop Plop, fizz fizz
Companies, corporations, amalgamations
merge then COLLIDE!!!
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
To write of Love, of Heaven, and of God,
Hills of joy, o'er which Angel pursued
Of that Boy, a sublime hippie shepherd,
Who in Heart the wisdom of Heaven had,
My pen, it labours, I give sweat and blood,
To paint world in cerise, a sweet red flood:
Or Prussian blue, depending on the scene,
Let Poets tell true folk from chess piece Kings,
Feign benevolence, when they are mean,
Who strut and rule above, superior things,
Who on the carcass of the suffering wean,
Drunk on power, Almighty sovereigns.
To write of Love, Heaven, apart from days,
Spent in drudgery at whim of Lords,
Who sit engorged by gold, wealth as they graze,
Upon the fruits yield by the mass, that horde,
As mass toil deep 'neath sun's sweltering rays,
To give and barter time they can't afford.
But they will be the ones in Heaven crowned,
As all time vindicates the plight of souls,
Who in port, or wine, have never drowned,
Rich gluttony the faithful mind abhors,
Upon which Saints and angels incensed frown,
So to tyrant's whims take pious war.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
The petals begin to die
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
The heavens start to cry
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Let out a collective sigh
The drudgery of life
The need to avoid strife
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
It's all in your mind
A fabrication
Imagination
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
In and out
Up and down
They go as they come
They bring gladness as they leave sadness
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
Deathly still
As still as death
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I've been told to move on
As young and beautiful
As a newborn fawn
As broken and doubtful
As a mind so torn
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
You have left us tonight
You're nowhere in sight
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
The moss spreads
The dust collects
Decrepit but not dead
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I've been told I'm wasting my life
I've been told to let go
I know it's all true
It's something I must do
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
You left
and now, I'd like to leave too
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
No.
A simple word
A simple meaning
All over my mind
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I won't let you go
I refuse to do so
You embody life
A life I wish was mine
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
You said goodbye,
not on purpose, of course
But they said goodbye
on purpose.
Who do I believe?
The living or the dead?
Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.
It's the only word in my mind.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 9:57 AM UTC
Why,
When words calmly manifest the intimacy,
Our hearts render them asunder.
In just a sliver of time.
How,
When surrounded by souls dimly lit,
Do I feel as a death moth fluttering near a lamp.
Ceaselessly eternal.
What,
Can my lips say when my heart is burnt by fire.
What words?
When all are mean.
Where,
Are the seconds of every day gone?
Swallowed;
Except in frivolous pursuit or meaningless drudgery
When,
Could I raise my arms up without fear of falling,
Or be swept by Lethe.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
I stopped
inside a light house
on a dark and foggy night
and in the beacon
in the fog
I saw far too many sights.
Lovers lost in their pasts
uncompleted tasks
of shoulda coulda wouldas
"If only's"
blocking their
paths.
The ferrel human beings
with eyes of gold
but no money
to buy a room
running to nowhere soon.
The poetry outlaws
with no words
left to sing
lost within their prisons
and know one knows
what they mean.
The beacon flashed
and in the light
I saw those
trapped in drudgery
and fading dreams
of being free.
And lonely souls
in darkened rooms
of four white walls
with no where to go
and no one coming that they know.
The beacon flashed
in that fog
the horn it rang
to no one listening
but the ships lost at sea
heard something
but asked themselves
was it really meant for me?
It
Spotlighted lovers
on the far sides
of the bed
their love lost
in what is now
misery and dread.
Wage slaves breathing toxic air
and what's this life for
their breath asks
captured in the foggy air.
Stopped at that lighthouse
to look out at that foggy sea
was all about the poetry
and what it means to me
a light
on a foggy
populated sea
and
life told in scenes
about
those who struggle to be free.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
*Reading poems today on Hello Poetry
This is what came to me as the Love
Mete with so much needs of ALL!!!*
Desiderata
***Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Exhausted, drained of all energy,
Seeking to fill this void with life that will fit.
The pain and drudgery of all has become almost too much to bear.
My soul screams out for change and relief.
Eyes closed in torment, wounds bleed with frustration and contempt;
Closed in a jail, a circle that never ends.
Life without living it has become; entombed within this existence
Isolated and alone, I have been left to die.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
Same old drudgery,
Papers fresh for grading;
Topics, seldom new,
If honestly presented,
At least encourage worth
In form, in format, in tradition.
Plagiarism creeps up,
Always shocking,
The unauthorized changing
Of voice, of tone, of diction,
Not unlike the sting of a ruthless needle,
The drip of a hollowed, poisoned fang,
The bite of frost, burning a tender cheek...
Sadly familiar, this strident pang.
All hope is lost.
Anger sets in,
Trust wilts,
Hope fades gray.
In plagiarism, the fool's truth lies;
To belie one's honor is to watch it die.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
Sleep beckons.
I could close my eyes and call it a day.
Lie down and die – maybe dream
Of all that was unaccomplished.
But with dreams there comes no guarantee.
Compensation for dissatisfaction?
Rebuke for procrastination?
There might be none,
Or some that I might not even remember.
Life is meaningless.
We are but sparks: destined to fade away.
This isn't a game, there are no rules.
No prosecution for any infringement.
I choose to while away at a make believe game
With make believe rules.
But I play fair,
Lest I should be judged by me.
I granted myself the liberty
Imparting meaning to my existence.
Meticulously building a façade.
Filling the void that I was born into.
One reckless step and it might all collapse-
Life, rules, beliefs-
A heap of nothingness at square one.
This choice-
The liberator from the drudgery of existence-
Is the one that binds me.
So I force myself to stay awake
For a few more hours each night.
Trying to get the blocks in place.
Convincing myself that what lies ahead is all pleasure.
Will it be reward enough
For all that I have suffered and lost
At my own game?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
sledgehammers finish off the drudgery
some moments are pounding
others are cool like the crystal ocean
a depth of vision is necessary
if you wish to transcend
the edges of your inevitable vulnerability
i am in need of shelter from her fire
a muse that burns all that she inspires
a silent lover of beauty
furthering her art
between the spaces of dreams
our fingers slip into everything
and become entangled like twine
rest here and unwind your heart strings
the scintillating heat is blinding yet rejuvenating
if you are my love then uncover your soul
give naked silence a chance to grow
surround my faithless jungle
with your vines of hope
i am conscious of the lack of rope
this happiness is binding
like kindness climbing invisible ladders
you shatter the silhouette of my perfect idol
i sneak a peak at a photograph
that you have kept hidden
silver visions destined to uncover
the lust of beauty
smiled in my direction
if we wish to dance then circle around the fire
aspire for magic to abolish your name
switch places with your shadow
and feel the earth within your skin
give god a better reason than your sadness
and she may even begin to sing again
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
I've seen many in this gender;
Tying their essence
to another's existence,
Trying so hard to please and impress;
leaving them disappointed and depressed
I've seen many in this gender;
Reduced to drudgery and slavery
lose themselves and bravery
Regarded as a mere piece of meat
beaten and trodden under their lover's feet.
I've seen many in this gender;
Run away from public sight
afraid to men, it would be a slight
Holding back salient potentials
thinking to the world, are not essential.
I've seen many in this gender;
Used mainly for pleasure
taken to have no place or future
Treated in utter disdain
left to suffer innumerable pain
Yet I've seen some in this gender;
Awaken from their slumber
though few in number
leave beautiful memories and irrecoverable marks
refusing to be silenced at the back
So to us of this gender;
I believe there's more to you and me,
More than what the society sees.
Dare to be among the few that leaves their shield
Dare to be among the few that rises and not yield.
Chi Obinna
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything
To do it as for Thee.
Not rudely, as a beast,
To run into an action;
But still to make Thee prepossest,
And give it his perfection.
A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye;
Or it he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heav’n espy.
All may of Thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean,
Which with his tincture—”for Thy sake”—
Will not grow bright and clean.
A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine:
Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and th’ action fine.
This is the famous stone
That turneth all to gold;
For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for less be told.
2.1k
These tiny loiterers on the barley’s beard,
And happy units of a numerous herd
Of playfellows, the laughing Summer brings,
Mocking the sunshine on their glittering wings,
How merrily they creep, and run, and fly!
No kin they bear to labour’s drudgery,
Smoothing the velvet of the pale hedge-rose;
And where they fly for dinner no one knows—
The dew-drops feed them not—they love the shine
Of noon, whose suns may bring them golden wine
All day they’re playing in their Sunday dress—
When night reposes, for they can do no less;
Then, to the heath-bell’s purple hood they fly,
And like to princes in their slumbers lie,
Secure from rain, and dropping dews, and all,
In silken beds and roomy painted hall.
So merrily they spend their summer-day,
Now in the corn-fields, now in the new-mown hay.
One almost fancies that such happy things,
With coloured hoods and richly burnished wings,
Are fairy folk, in splendid masquerade
Disguised, as if of mortal folk afraid,
Keeping their joyous pranks a mystery still,
Lest glaring day should do their secrets ill.
2.1k
this is for the graduation classes
homework again?
will this drudgery ever end?
what do they expect from someone like me
when i don't even know my a, b, c, s.
teachers tell me that i will fail.
and that they see me going to jail.
that i have no ambition.
i can't afford college tuition!
but i know that i must learn
otherwise my life will forever turn.
in this life there is no other way
so i must listen to what they say.
i must take away this negativity
just so that the teachers can see
that there is some hope for me.
everyone says that my future is in my hands
if i learn to take a stand.
so my nose i did put to the books
and paying attention is all it took.
my grades have started to soar so high
that my head i can put to the sky.
now i can finally see, that the
education is the best thing for me.
homework is still a drudgery!
and i may still complain
but my life will never be the same.
THANK YOU TEACHERS FOR KEEPING ME SANE.
louis rams :
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
That’s talent
Sniffing out drugs
Down two floors
Down deep in the recess
Of your drawer
Because it lay
Down deep in the recess
Of my mind
Down two floors
Stored for a slow
Calculated
Take down of your mind
Whilst it picks away
At my carefully
Orchestrated sobriety
Down deep
Layered over
With career
With kids
With paint
With healing sounds
Don’t come around here no more
But it do
But it do
Cause I’ve got a talent
for Sniffing out
The drudgery
For sniffing out
The dark side
Wars colliding in my mind
Cause the army I built is
Only as good as the fort I built in front of them.
And this nose. This nose..
I’ve got a talent.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 7:49 PM UTC
HARLEM BLUES
Lingering perfumes float through the night air,
Life was a drudgery for him and no one cared!
With neon lights blinking and flashing every-
where!
The jazz band in the saloon played a soft tune,
And the lady there sang the Blues and also
crooned!
Now the solitude of the night gets to him,
As he drops down into a corner seat where lights
are rather dim!
Signals the waiter as he lights his cigar,
And orders a large whiskey and soda, having
come down so far!
He remains enthralled by the lone singer’s
voice,
He must spend this ‘blue night’ all alone, -
since he had no other choice!
The singer now comes pretty close to him,
And he could see her white teeth dazzle and
gleam!
But when he looked into those dark eye lashes, -
Sad memories from the past before his eyes
flashes!
He had been a clarinet player of some renown,
But his wife couldn’t tolerate its piping sound!
His habit of playing the pipe at mid-night hours,
Made her to desert him for their marriage had
gone sour!
The 'blue notes' in the saloon soon comes to an
end,
But the music goes on simply to entertain!
The singer now invites this loner to her room,
He accompanies - trying to forget his loneliness
and gloom!
She pours out two drinks in her upstairs room,
And places his head gently between her ***** -
Which makes him to swoon!
The ‘blue notes’ still plays on in his mind,
It is then when she pulls out a clarinet from
behind!
Seeing him surprised - she laughs out loud;
He stares at the clarinet with misgiving and doubt!
“Don’t worry darling I had met you wife,
She had shown me your picture and told me about
your life!
From my childhood days I had loved the clarinet,
It turns me on before I go to bed!
So play the pipe gently as I get into my slip-on,
And we shall make love right into the morn! ”
He picked up the clarinet and played it so
tender and so light, -
The music echoed through the lonely Harlem night!
-By Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
(While reading up the History of Jazz for composing my Jazz Story Part Two, I received an inspiration for writing this fictional poem for you! For reading thank you!)
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
I saw you
I saw your brain spilling out its cerebellum, medulla oblongata, etc
All over- unrecognizable
indistinguishable
I saw
I thought those were some kind of pink pulses
Lord knows, weirder things have been found
and seen
I saw
I saw
I hope there is justice for you
I will pray for your soul
My soul will meet yours
when the knell rings for me
I hope you find peace
I hope you know that I called
And called and tried and tried
To help you even though you were already gone
I saw your friend- his eyes, his expression
I really did try
Please find yourself another life
I hope your friend finds peace
Knows it wasn't all his fault
I hope his eyes lose the haunted shocked expression
I really wish he can drive again
I hope he can continue working
- he looked like one of those people
you know those ones?
working hard to make it out of drudgery?
I hope he makes it through this
And I really really wish you guys hadn't had a fight before this
Find peace
Go safe
Go softly
Your death was sudden
Ripped out of this earth
Like you were never meant to exist
That was meant to be me
I hope it didn't hurt too much
And those ******** that did this to you?
I hope they didn't mean it
I wish they hadn't been high before this
Your death shouldn't be meaningless
And although
You might be simply another obituary in tomorrow's newspaper
This poem will say
*"I saw you.
I prayed for you.
I greeted you.
I witnessed your existence.
You meant something
Just as your death did.
I wish you peace and that you go
Safely, soundly
Wishing you that your loved ones
Remember you with love
And maybe some heartbreak
But they find strength.
Tonight,
I
s a w
You"*
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Have you ever been Cinderella at the ball?
Have you ever stood there so completely in awe of the impossible wonderful you're experiencing?
Have you ever had to leave the ball so no one sees your riches turn to rags
Return to the drudgery of a reality full of tyrants and sycophants;
Thinking that you'll be okay going back to being just you after the clock strikes midnight?
How do you go back?
How do you ever taste anything the same again?
How do you learn to not ache for that kind of love; that kind of beauty?
How do you go back to living as a scullery maid?
How do you go back to the cold hearth alone?
Do you tell yourself you never deserved it?
Do you tell yourself it wasn't real?
Do you tell yourself the prince never cared?
Do you just sit alone by your hearth, covered in the day's cinders and hope beyond hope that it wasn't all in your head?
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
(Written 12/09/09)
Sometimes the sun sets early
On times that passed too soon;
When reality's not worthy
And our dreams carelessly strewn;
Sometimes hope appears as worthless
As the secret tears we cry;
Some people die on purpose
With no thought to say goodbye.
Perceived selfishness, derided
Over all they left unsaid;
All their years of trying to hide it
- All for nothing, once they're dead;
Though they never meant to hurt us
Agony is always there;
Some people die on purpose,
Driven by profound despair.
Misery is bleak and mindless,
It devours from inside out;
And we only seek the kindness
That so many go without.
Feeling purposeless and worthless,
Trapped by drudgery and fear;
Some people die on purpose,
Some wish, but are still here.
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 2:43 AM UTC