Work Poems
The Pig
by Roald Dahl
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
......
Theme For English B
by Langston Hughes
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
......
Daughter
by Gertrude Stein
Why is the world at peace.
This may astonish you a little but when you realise how
easily Mrs. Charles Bianco sells the work of American
painters to American millionaires you will recognize that
authorities are constrained to be relieved. Let me tell you a
story. A painter loved a woman. A musician did not sing.
A South African loved books. An American was a woman
and needed help. Are Americans the same as incubators.
But this is the rest of the story. He became an authority.
Palme
by Paul Valéry
Veiling, barely, his dread
Beauty and its blaze,
An angel sets warm bread
and cool milk at my place.
His eyelids make the sign
Of prayer; I lower mine,
Words interleaving vision:
--Calm, calm, be ever calm!
Feel the whole weight a palm
Bears upright in profusion.
......
A Prodigal
by Elizabeth Bishop
The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare--
even to the sow that always ate her young--
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours),
......
I will avoid the aggravation
by Aldo Kraas
I will avoid the aggravation
I will work for a couple hours
For my Father
AIso I will write a few poems
For my father today
I will no longer kill myself
With work
I will go to bed
Early every single night
So that I can get a proper night sleep
......
Plum Delicious
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Jack Horner was an impish little boy, who lived on Cherry Orchard farm;
That produced varieties of fruit. For a mellowing sun, kept groves warm.
The Horners had always been a serious set-no nonsense, like spring rain;
And tried to teach their son responsibility, like time's jewels that remain.
But, alas, it was a big challenge, with hilarious grasshoppers in the hall!
Sent early to bed, he laughed long, the way you only laugh, when small.
Friends came face-to-face on fun Fridays, as February fled into summer,
......
In Between Souls
by Lee-Ann Azzopardi
Dear reader,
There's no difference between
a SchiZ poem or a Lee-Ann poem
They all from the same mind
As they come from the hands
Of a humble poet
Too shy to speak of her real name
And frightened by the welfare office
Finding out that she is intelligent
And capable of writing beautifully
......
One of a Kind
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Elsie Marley was a playful, middle child, with five sparkling siblings,
Living on emerald, Willow Brook Farm, underneath skies very citron.
Everyone in the family lent a hand, at skillfully managing their farm.
At twelve years old, Elsie joined in, like golden bees, flower charmed.
Every fleeting day was the same as the last, yet magically different;
Like when a rainbow touches jade grass, and blazing sun is imminent.
Fantastic friends made school days fun, in the flitting, youthful hours;
......
Becoming Colors
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was a celebrated, professional psychic, offering glimpses of rosy future;
And helping people work through problems, like pink moon, come sooner.
I had learnt to talk with the spirits, and also relate what they were saying,
To the ones left loving and lingering, like peach rose on jade vine, swaying.
Although the certitude of ESP is often debated, some people do possess it;
Like the mysterious biennial appearance of Mars, to plum skies, so scarlet.
I had long painted for a hobby, and lovely colors had ever fascinated me;
......
