"remuneration" poems
Every action has its consequences
Bound to a fate of its own
We choose an action by choice
Informed or under compulsions
Wound in a complex circle
Once we knock the door with uncertainty
Fate is there watching over us
Given the task to execute the action
Awaiting the consequences as remuneration
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
In my "Thought for the Day XLIII" (43), I spoke of poets that have been with me, and supported me for quite some time. Sally and Pradip have been with me since my first posting, "1894", nearly two years ago, and I have "adopted" Vicki, Catherine, Ryn, Deborah, Pamela Rae,and others along the way. There is Quinn, Phil, Pradip, Francie, Frankie J, Mike, John, Nat, SE Reimer, Sverre, "The 'Ole Storyteller!" and,"Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe!"
Unfortunately, I cannot list everyone, in fear of overlooking writers who, collectively, mean so much to me. Please forgive me for that.
I will continue to "do my best" for all of the poets/writers/contributors to the HP site. I do not write for monetary remuneration, but for relaxation and recreation, with the end result, hopefully, bringing a smile to my peers. I thank all of you for allowing me to attempt, and occasionally, reach that goal.
Sincerely
Richard Riddle- June 03, 2015
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
Watching through the pane
Your hands as cuffs
As you unveil the earth
Tending what you sow
The Night Before last
Under the blood moon
It was that night
Where we spoke and
Planted seeds of old ideals
We would be as the land
Nurturing one another
As we both worked
To bring callused hands
Gripping the fruits
Of our labor
To our humble
Farm house table
These days would be long
Out in ribbons of gold
And slight scent of country roses
Would be our remuneration
These are our seeds
That we both planted
That we will water
That we will grow
Soon my love
As they are ready
We will pick each
Dream and live
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
For love
A million positions available
Requirements
A curriculum vitae
Not perfect in its application
Remuneration
A labour of glorious returns
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
Once, long ago
I gazed upon
the world with
conformity’s eyes
and found it absurd
And I cursed existence
and my fellow man
I built a wall to defend
the tattered remnants
of the sanity I perceived
I still possessed
I built a wall that quickly
became a desolate prison
standing cold in the face
of forgiveness and love
I ignored beauty’s gentle bliss
I insulted love in the name
of an antiquated morality
Oh spirits
Oh demons
Oh harbingers
of what lies
beyond
perception
It was to you
that I entrusted
my salvation
It was to you that
I prayed in expectation
of deliverance
I begged for naught
but a cessation of being
to relieve the nightmare
of existence
In desperation
I grasped the reins
of intolerance
I drew the sword
of superficial righteousness
carving a swath of condemnation
through the ranks of my brothers
for the sake of a disapproving God
I wounded virtue in the name of heaven
I exchanged reason for faith
I threw compassion to the dogs of indifference
What pain has my existence
brought my fellow man?
My path to salvation lies
hidden among the bones
of those I once held dear
Heaven should not
exact such remuneration
for paradise cannot be
purchased with the blood
of hatred and the
tears of martyred tolerance
I will not kneel before
such an altar
Not again
Never again
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
the peasant with nothing to offer
but, rock of bread
they vowed to each other
the eternal devotion
and with every union
a male shall support
the house
and female shall
tend the house
daily labor
filled with black
stained his skin
the remuneration
was barley sufficient
she offered her talents
of the morphing avifauna
feeling hopeless
they pursued
and flaunted her majesty
the worlds eyes did pay
with plenty
but greed stained
the her feathers
until yet another
wanted the relentless
curves and talents
of the female tengu
the count
made his presence known
he persuaded the wedded
that greed is now what binds
with a swoosh
her majesty was swept
locked behind stone
taken away from him
her love
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
PART I – AN EXAMPLE
Mohamed Bouazizi –
A name we should never forget;
The name of a man whose loss
Is one of many we shall forever regret.
He did not want much;
All he wished for was an education,
A proper house, warm to one’s touch,
The right to make a decent living
A humble being, never taking too much yet always giving.
Mohamed Bouazizi
Was a man who never had it easy;
His story profoundly echoes among us all
A tragedy fuelled by greed and corruption.
Put yourself in his shoes –
Fatherless since he was three,
Working since he was ten,
The right for education stolen from him
By his own, cold nation.
It is difficult to understand
What it’s like
To be buried beneath the sand,
Just like that.
Mohamed had to quit school
And support an entire family
Essentially, reduced to a tool
An instrument
For financial gain;
Eventually, he was unable to take the pain
The humiliation
Of having his only means of remuneration
Confiscated and destroyed.
So, incredulous and angry,
All he had was one final attempt at diplomacy,
His penultimate demand to a governor with no soul:
“If you don’t see me, I will burn myself.”
His produce, his vending stall,
His scales – all taken from him, accelerating his fall
Into desperation,
Into deliberate, self-immolation.
Every authority that was supposed to be a protector
Instead acted as a horrifying molester –
Mohamed
Tried every route he could possibly take
A brave explorer confronting snake after snake.
Alas,
He reached his breaking point,
And true to his word,
He set himself on fire –
December 16th, 2010
Was the date when his ire
Could be contained no longer.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
***Fallen under a darkly cast spell
eerie spectral vibrations in my bones
music compos'd upon churchly organs
rushing shivers up my uncompromising spine,
demons playing charades on blacken'd keys
heart bleeds a dull beryl hue of expir'd crimson
mind whirling in gray'd remuneration tunes
dance tracks takes fight without raven's hindsight
commission'd by devil's own apathetic self***
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
On the top floor, outside the racket.
Slamming the wasted door.
Queue of men wanting more.
In the flat at the back one of two.
Where the air flowed dank and language blue.
Twelve feet by eighteen.
The ladies kept manacled in order to score.
Rustled from the bus in a hurry, after which, their dignity's left.
A super holiday, promised a gratis gift.
Collared and chained.
Shot up to the sky.
The ladies kept manacled in order to score.
By a friend, an imperious, imposer.
Not a cool guy.
Remuneration nothing for their suffering at the hands, of ****** deviants.
A slave to desire, captured in *******
(C) Livvi
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
what if people had hearts,
and cared for one another deeply,
everyone doing his part
to improve his neighbour's condition completely,
without reward or remuneration,
only love for the entire human population?
what if cows had wings,
and buzzed above abattoirs like bees,
sucking—as nectar—the skins
off the bodies of humans, fallen to their knees,
in repentance and commiseration
with the suffering of all living things?
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 7:12 PM UTC
Hands cracked as dried soap
****** battered
working out on the dust
its hard and still
a whisper of a geared wagon
tickles the ear of the fickle man
it is he... the man who points
he checks his list and nods
the man receives his daily remuneration
crackle of the sand paves the way
to a tin roof collective
where blurry eyed gentlemen line the plaster
the fickle man trades his social note
for a golden friend
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
The sky split, cracked open through sheer force. A spectre’s mind is hailed away to a foreign shore, nestled amongst unsolidified generalities, binding it to the aftermath of time’s relevance. Hope came in a voided sun, imploding in the sky over Bethlehem, and through its transparency, a vision of the end was brought forth to this unjust land, where filth rules supremacy, and dominion is granted for a grandfather’s pittance. It displayed the market value of a soul through a diminished stance, collapsing on the shore as violent waves crash and beat the resonant senses held within.
…
Contemporaries held in fear, chucked and pushed down back alleys, ending up under the pier, vandalizing a vanquished peer, awkward glances insuring no one is near. Washed away with the evening tide, passed up to the coast after a lifeless ride. Broken down, drifting with the stream, token now, drifting with the dream.
Naturalized and neutered before a board of advisors, composed of highly unsanitary elders, pieces of flawn stuck to the chin, picked up while eating from another’s bin. Dictated and deemed to seem all right, recreations shown on daily late night, refracted and turned into a joke, remuneration held as big brother had spoke. Patience restored as order forms in line, hastened into place by fluorinated wine, individuals return to their lives, and negligently pass over recent lies.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Her eyes flutter soon as they sense someone encroaching
Her nose in fear of uncertainty starts running
Like a Dear in sight of a predator approaching
As her hanky is sent up her nose cleaning
I get a closer look at her beautiful *******
Their sudden rise like a volcanic plug
Or cunning waves in an Ocean with gigantic crests
But soon as I’m close enough all she gets is a hug
Then I place my head on hers close enough to her lips
Which tremble probably in fear of the belief all speech is lies
While all through a burning urge to kiss her hard at me nips
Seeing tears of doubt gather clouding the skies of her eyes
Her heart beats too violent for someone of her age
Seems she’s grown to believe for love,pain’s her only wage
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
TLACAELEL
My lord, your wives entreat you to carouse,
And tend a show of juggling acrobats.
MOTECUHZOMA
When work is done. Recall those sorcerers. Exit Servant.
Till concrete facts come in, abstractions must suffice.
Enter a Servant.
SERVANT
Your majesty, a humble fisherman
Brings news pertaining to these prodigies.
MOTECUHZOMA
Admit him. [Exit Servant.] Lord, when peons paint my way!
Enter the Fisherman and Servant. *He trails his hand
on the ground toward him, and kisses his ***** fingertips.*
FISHERMAN
O master, ruler, lord, great gentleman,
If witless lips which kiss the unswept earth
Be fit to thus accost an emperor,
Regard me, if it please your majesty.
TLACAELEL
Speak, boy. Sublime Motecuhzoma hears.
FISHERMAN
I come from Hellwood, at your southern shores,
Where this week past, upon a beetling bluff,
I glimpsed a buoyant, surging reef of hills
With twining towers carousing on the waves,
That seemed a transport for intruding rarities:
A fear which whisperings in the wind confirmed.
TLACAELEL
Ho, ** **
Was this the Spirit speaking, or the spirits?
Some extra mushrooms in your salad, sir?
FISHERMAN
Discard me if I lie! Hail, lords! All hail!
TLACAELEL
All hail and sleet and snow, and all things cold.
And chill reception from this wintry prince,
For I suspect you seek remuneration.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Employed on daily basis
Mr. Nasirul Haque,
Devoted life to service
No, he is completely wrong.
Attend on time every day-
Even some days,
arrive at work before everyone else,
Work with focus-
Although the authorities most days
keep him busy with more working hours,
Under some guise.
For these additional functions
He receives no remuneration,
Happily accepts monthly salary
And nothing more.
Yet he is devoted to his work
Always conscious of duty,
Although all grow at an exponential rate
Not only does his salary.
Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 11:58 PM UTC
Surreal
Stripped of all I am
Trapped and confined
My only possession is time
Consciously, creeping away
Anticipating an impending consequence
As it bares fruition to... judgment
Blooming swift and unbiased.
Surrendering to ruminate
I deliberate
What is freedom?
The ability to exercise liberty
Exemption from external control
My mind travels beyond these walls
Without bounds
Without bonds
Desperate
Eager to escape
Away from the bland taste of this reality.
Swept by the winds beneath me
Relative lightness;
Buoyancy
As my eyes sweep to the horizon
Tasting the air
Savoring the new appreciation
Of all I took for granted
Is this how freedom feels?
What a day for a daydream.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
I don't know how I'll arrange funds.
Funds for the operation,
Funds for the serious surgery.
I can seek help from my parents.
But I am their ligation,
Both of them must be weary.
I wanna arrange the money by myself,
From my own PhD remuneration,
For the treatment & operation.
Or maybe from my novel sales,
If 100 more copies sell,
I can have enough money for surgery.
See if you can help me at all,
Its story is the best I can tell,
And poetry is its decoration.
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 2:41 AM UTC
Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.
Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.
Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations
under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.
Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness
for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.
Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
remuneration is the key
in attracting more students
toward a teaching degree
over the past few decades
there's been a drop off
in people wanting to undertake
these university courses
schools are feeling
the shortage pinch
where primary and secondary
teacher positions
cannot be filled
teaching is a noble profession
which should receive better pay
so as the drift from its lesson's
won't keep walking away
if the matter of wages
isn't urgently addressed
our education departments
will become more depressed
teachers are a society's most
valuable human resource
and not having enough of them
is so adverse in recourse
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Like the bold man suffers from
The scourging sun
So did I suffer in loneliness
After she walked out of the door.
Like a naked weapon
I shot to reach the stars
Before life returned what I lost,
She left in quarrel and came in joy
Not a perfect stay but cleansing
And remuneration of memories
its never a goodbye for the ones
you love.
No Wonder dogs return to the *****
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC