"manpower" poems - Hello Poetry

He looks like the moon from the sky, His radiant eyes would steal the sunrise, His shoulder stood high, Heartbeats as if he smells his likely world on his arm, there is everything but a tie! He just doesn't have a job, been interviewed, He expressed his qualities, many quantities, but lost, walked out without a offer! His sunny face was still shimmering. The successful one, murmured 'my friend you wasn't smart enough selling yourself!' I don't think I wanted to do that, he replied: Am is willing to serve to earn the means to be served, don't mean to sale and buy. If ethic has no value maybe then a job is nothing but 'sale and buy'!

0

Aug 11, 2017

Aug 11, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC

shofi-ahmed

Manpower

He looks like the moon from the sky, His radiant eyes would steal the sunrise, His shoulder stood high, Heartbeats as if he smells his likely world on his arm, there is everything but a tie! He just doesn't have a job, been interviewed, He expressed his qualities, many quantities, but lost, walked out without a offer! His sunny face was still shimmering. The successful one, murmured 'my friend you wasn't smart enough selling yourself!' I don't think I wanted to do that, he replied: Am is willing to serve to earn the means to be served, don't mean to sale and buy. If ethic has no value maybe then a job is nothing but 'sale and buy'!

16

Take your thoughts to the sink, Pile them all up with the plates, Grimy and greasy Just like your mind Which you can scrub all you want With a sponge or a foam Since there's no difference Above sea level, But the residues will remain Staining your perfect little machine, Robotic, malfunctioning, Because manpower is always better Than a cold bin Where it is just you Echoing your asking everything Except for what you want Because cowardice and pride Are the oil of your psychomotor, Running, Missing, Out on those Who really don't need you in their lives, Let alone To do their dishes, If ever, in case, So what the hell are you still doing, Waiting for the suds to drain, Don't **** your brain Like this, Get a pen And replace the dishwashing liquid With real poison.

0

Jun 1, 2014

Jun 1, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC

jami-samson

Dishwasher Diaries

Take your thoughts to the sink, Pile them all up with the plates, Grimy and greasy Just like your mind Which you can scrub all you want With a sponge or a foam Since there's no difference Above sea level, But the residues will remain Staining your perfect little machine, Robotic, malfunctioning, Because manpower is always better Than a cold bin Where it is just you Echoing your asking everything Except for what you want Because cowardice and pride Are the oil of your psychomotor, Running, Missing, Out on those Who really don't need you in their lives, Let alone To do their dishes, If ever, in case, So what the hell are you still doing, Waiting for the suds to drain, Don't **** your brain Like this, Get a pen And replace the dishwashing liquid With real poison.

32

*I dreamed an ocean one day, Soft like silk, pouring through your fingers. Satin, woven from the promised land. In the thread, joyful echos, stained. I dreamed of days under the topaz sunset. I chirped to a toucan. A beautifully colored bird. Smart. Mute. She chirped back. I was in the Neverlands. I dreamed of royal parades. A mirage of Chiefs & they're daughters. Horses for manpower. Monthly packages of flour & sugar. Life was equally labored. I dreamed of being an Author of Poetry. Sitting in some tower. Seeing the world beneath my shoeless feet. Writing, A future.*

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Oct 24, 2013

Oct 24, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC

david-johnson-3

"Versatile"

*I dreamed an ocean one day, Soft like silk, pouring through your fingers. Satin, woven from the promised land. In the thread, joyful echos, stained. I dreamed of days under the topaz sunset. I chirped to a toucan. A beautifully colored bird. Smart. Mute. She chirped back. I was in the Neverlands. I dreamed of royal parades. A mirage of Chiefs & they're daughters. Horses for manpower. Monthly packages of flour & sugar. Life was equally labored. I dreamed of being an Author of Poetry. Sitting in some tower. Seeing the world beneath my shoeless feet. Writing, A future.*

20

First Contact "How did I get here,I can't remember, my brains burning out like a dwindling ember, are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain, I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain, hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly, like a wounded lion,you better bet ye, will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample), the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken, I'm a one man army,armed or not, you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?, that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark) has more in his bite than you do in your bark, it's getting dark now,tables turning, tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning, better keep your guard up,I've been confronted... but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16. Riposte Better count your sentries,I think ones missin, when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in, should have been listenin,I gave you a chance, now its time for the Sandman to do his dance, like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly, bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me, the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin, got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it, taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed, from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones, catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo, appear behind you from the mud like Rambo, bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene, you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine, told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted, cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted. Denoument Now I know who you are,and I know where you live, and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive. We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust, taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya, more ghost than man,a modern day ninja, leave you injured,begging for mercy, but you know the concept is alien to me, grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced, you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force, force feed your limbs til you beg for death, line your family up and slowly take their heads, then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey, the word is spread,don't try to **** me, you were my friend,but you crossed the line, try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"

0

Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC

rob-sandman

Hunted.

First Contact "How did I get here,I can't remember, my brains burning out like a dwindling ember, are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain, I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain, hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly, like a wounded lion,you better bet ye, will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample), the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken, I'm a one man army,armed or not, you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?, that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark) has more in his bite than you do in your bark, it's getting dark now,tables turning, tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning, better keep your guard up,I've been confronted... but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16. Riposte Better count your sentries,I think ones missin, when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in, should have been listenin,I gave you a chance, now its time for the Sandman to do his dance, like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly, bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me, the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin, got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it, taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed, from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones, catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo, appear behind you from the mud like Rambo, bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene, you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine, told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted, cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted. Denoument Now I know who you are,and I know where you live, and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive. We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust, taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya, more ghost than man,a modern day ninja, leave you injured,begging for mercy, but you know the concept is alien to me, grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced, you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force, force feed your limbs til you beg for death, line your family up and slowly take their heads, then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey, the word is spread,don't try to **** me, you were my friend,but you crossed the line, try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"

51

i press the buttons, i carve out the map. i water the flowers, i mix the soil. the buttons don’t work, the map doesn’t show me the direction. the flowers haven’t bloomed this season, the plant is still not humid. we have becomes a voiceless society. the most manpower and the most technology, the loss of energy, creativity and spirit. the voice has faded like a semi permanent tattoo etched in the previous edicts of time. the stones of civilisation had been laid, but the water tests our depth. the reef of originality used to tease us, oxygen; a valuable life currency. even more valuable than time. because without it, you cannot experience time. now it’s one foot in, and you’ve reached the depth. shallow shadows, clear paths. this machine patented clarity is a loss for all. clarity that has brushed away the wild ways of tracing fingers across life’s board. we have all the power in the world. and yet, we do not have a voice anymore. we have all the resources in the world. and yet we do not have any purpose to use these resources. life has becomes a dead garden, where everything does bloom with fifteen fertilisers, but what role do we assume, when all we do is just manufacture them? when will the sunrise and the sunsets ever be human again? what does it even mean to be human anymore? does this poem even have its own voice, in the galaxy of big data, machines and algorithmic nosebleeds? that is for you, the reader to decide. the poet’s job is over.

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Sep 8, 2025

Sep 8, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC

arsonpoet

Untitled

i press the buttons, i carve out the map. i water the flowers, i mix the soil. the buttons don’t work, the map doesn’t show me the direction. the flowers haven’t bloomed this season, the plant is still not humid. we have becomes a voiceless society. the most manpower and the most technology, the loss of energy, creativity and spirit. the voice has faded like a semi permanent tattoo etched in the previous edicts of time. the stones of civilisation had been laid, but the water tests our depth. the reef of originality used to tease us, oxygen; a valuable life currency. even more valuable than time. because without it, you cannot experience time. now it’s one foot in, and you’ve reached the depth. shallow shadows, clear paths. this machine patented clarity is a loss for all. clarity that has brushed away the wild ways of tracing fingers across life’s board. we have all the power in the world. and yet, we do not have a voice anymore. we have all the resources in the world. and yet we do not have any purpose to use these resources. life has becomes a dead garden, where everything does bloom with fifteen fertilisers, but what role do we assume, when all we do is just manufacture them? when will the sunrise and the sunsets ever be human again? what does it even mean to be human anymore? does this poem even have its own voice, in the galaxy of big data, machines and algorithmic nosebleeds? that is for you, the reader to decide. the poet’s job is over.

32

*Colorful thoughts, whispers in a snicker, sharing with a kindred in the warmth of closeness. This is what it is to be human. To love completely, healing sobs of heartache leaning on a trustworthy shoulder, arms tightly wound around souls. To care, desiring peace for all, comfort for the helpless. Genuine gestures of courage, lending manpower and strength, to build and build up the less fortunate. An image of love This is what it means to be human.*

0

Jan 21, 2014

Jan 21, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC

renae

Human

*Colorful thoughts, whispers in a snicker, sharing with a kindred in the warmth of closeness. This is what it is to be human. To love completely, healing sobs of heartache leaning on a trustworthy shoulder, arms tightly wound around souls. To care, desiring peace for all, comfort for the helpless. Genuine gestures of courage, lending manpower and strength, to build and build up the less fortunate. An image of love This is what it means to be human.*

6

In every sequel to the barstool sits an evening philosopher chugging beer and crisps dreaming of a damsel in distress to recue and carry over the raging waters of a lonely evening. The froth in the next glass confirms the frenzy of waiting patiently. I suspect beer drinkers are adept at making plans to snare the right woman with catchy bylines and brisk one-liners. Mostly recycled ones work well. How easily some evade the trap and the cobweb, sticky as it may seem to, draw the best ****** ones into the nectar laden larder of niceties. They have their own connecting sentences which, safely guarded, like intellectual property gets them zooming into a net of naughtiness. Author Notes Browsing. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

0

Apr 7, 2014

Apr 7, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC

marshall-gass

Manpower

In every sequel to the barstool sits an evening philosopher chugging beer and crisps dreaming of a damsel in distress to recue and carry over the raging waters of a lonely evening. The froth in the next glass confirms the frenzy of waiting patiently. I suspect beer drinkers are adept at making plans to snare the right woman with catchy bylines and brisk one-liners. Mostly recycled ones work well. How easily some evade the trap and the cobweb, sticky as it may seem to, draw the best ****** ones into the nectar laden larder of niceties. They have their own connecting sentences which, safely guarded, like intellectual property gets them zooming into a net of naughtiness. Author Notes Browsing. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

17

Michael O’Rahilly was leading the charge, a hopelessly wasteful foray. The English were waiting behind barricades as the Gaels made their desperate play. Rifles at the ready; they charged up Moore Street, the O’Rahilly leading the way. Like paper consumed by a flickering flame, their manpower melted away. O’Rahilly lay dying, but the British just laughed, no aid would they give to the foe. The cobblestones reeked of the blood on the street as the bodies were laid in a row. Heroes perhaps have a touch of the poet, a dram of unreason besides, but everyone knows of the charge of O’Rahilly; Everyone knows how he died. It was, he well knew, a magnificent gesture, the English be dammed and despised. He lingered, tis said, for nineteen long hours, immortal or not, he expired.

0

Apr 10, 2015

Apr 10, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

The O’Rahilly

Michael O’Rahilly was leading the charge, a hopelessly wasteful foray. The English were waiting behind barricades as the Gaels made their desperate play. Rifles at the ready; they charged up Moore Street, the O’Rahilly leading the way. Like paper consumed by a flickering flame, their manpower melted away. O’Rahilly lay dying, but the British just laughed, no aid would they give to the foe. The cobblestones reeked of the blood on the street as the bodies were laid in a row. Heroes perhaps have a touch of the poet, a dram of unreason besides, but everyone knows of the charge of O’Rahilly; Everyone knows how he died. It was, he well knew, a magnificent gesture, the English be dammed and despised. He lingered, tis said, for nineteen long hours, immortal or not, he expired.

10

By: Cedric McClester Has history taught us nothing? That's what I’ve found There are those still clamoring For boots on the ground Which may satisfy us emotionally Just by the sound But how lone are we prepared to stick around Some suggest ISIS Can be taken out By boots on the ground And American clout But other than bravado What’s that about It’s a confounding quagmire Without a doubt Certain things are Easier said then done Some act as if We’re the Omnipotent One Cuz we have the manpower And also the gun But history has shown us Nation building ain't fun Fighting them over there Rather than here Might not be as simple As it may first appear If our strategy is not working Which to some is clear An effective alternative I'd like to hear Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

0

Nov 17, 2015

Nov 17, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC

cedric-mcclester

BOOTS ON THE GROUND

By: Cedric McClester Has history taught us nothing? That's what I’ve found There are those still clamoring For boots on the ground Which may satisfy us emotionally Just by the sound But how lone are we prepared to stick around Some suggest ISIS Can be taken out By boots on the ground And American clout But other than bravado What’s that about It’s a confounding quagmire Without a doubt Certain things are Easier said then done Some act as if We’re the Omnipotent One Cuz we have the manpower And also the gun But history has shown us Nation building ain't fun Fighting them over there Rather than here Might not be as simple As it may first appear If our strategy is not working Which to some is clear An effective alternative I'd like to hear Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

33

WOMEN Women live by heart Men by head, Former is ever alive The latter is emotionally dead. Heart represents love So women feel more deserted Head is crafty So men are less broken hearted. Men are extroverts Always look out for pleasures, Women are introverts Staying in is their nature. The former is bumble bee Never is contented with one, The latter is honey bee Collects for the she loves one. Women are for what they have Men look for more and more, They squander for pleasures Women take care of the store. Men are like South Pole They are haughty and aggressive, Women are North Pole Humility makes them submissive. This variance makes The former very intolerant, The latter bears the brunt As she is by nature very tolerant. Men are too spendthrift Are fond of too much flirting, Women are preservers As she is fond of saving and saving. But these differences Are in tune with Mother Nature Positive mixed with negative Produces the newest manpower.

0

Apr 23, 2020

Apr 23, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC

dr-k-s-bhardwaj

WOMEN

WOMEN Women live by heart Men by head, Former is ever alive The latter is emotionally dead. Heart represents love So women feel more deserted Head is crafty So men are less broken hearted. Men are extroverts Always look out for pleasures, Women are introverts Staying in is their nature. The former is bumble bee Never is contented with one, The latter is honey bee Collects for the she loves one. Women are for what they have Men look for more and more, They squander for pleasures Women take care of the store. Men are like South Pole They are haughty and aggressive, Women are North Pole Humility makes them submissive. This variance makes The former very intolerant, The latter bears the brunt As she is by nature very tolerant. Men are too spendthrift Are fond of too much flirting, Women are preservers As she is fond of saving and saving. But these differences Are in tune with Mother Nature Positive mixed with negative Produces the newest manpower.

37

steel iron rubber plastic manpower cement pavement concrete oil gasoline petroleum adulated back in those days this wide open nation suddenly a place the normal family explored Detroit my home town steered the rudder to the expansion until the cement highways spread from coast to coast and the boost to our economy from the second world war receded then the nation became lazy the world is more marketed on the 1's and 0's now which we developed yet the cellular the thing we got caught sleeping how come the third world has better cell phone and internet coverages than the U.S. And Canada a healthy health care market. I can see a sea rising and if only the top float there is going to be a whole lot of drowning. We Need for if the sea rises to raise the all of us up. I see progress now like scenes from the 1910';s 20's where the low sink and the rich float we must wake up or again go through quite a horrific depression make up your mind America. Be blind and stupid and sink. Or make it new again.

0

Aug 15, 2017

Aug 15, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC

wordvango

moral code

steel iron rubber plastic manpower cement pavement concrete oil gasoline petroleum adulated back in those days this wide open nation suddenly a place the normal family explored Detroit my home town steered the rudder to the expansion until the cement highways spread from coast to coast and the boost to our economy from the second world war receded then the nation became lazy the world is more marketed on the 1's and 0's now which we developed yet the cellular the thing we got caught sleeping how come the third world has better cell phone and internet coverages than the U.S. And Canada a healthy health care market. I can see a sea rising and if only the top float there is going to be a whole lot of drowning. We Need for if the sea rises to raise the all of us up. I see progress now like scenes from the 1910';s 20's where the low sink and the rich float we must wake up or again go through quite a horrific depression make up your mind America. Be blind and stupid and sink. Or make it new again.

36