Revised Poem For The Busy Businessman
as i place my feet
in another country i step upon
an internet cafe
goggling upon a poem
inspired by the changes
of the situation
on some dreams of reforms
i start to compose another poem
for the wind
&
this i cannot forget
a man on the other side
loose tie and
unbuttoned shirt
on my left busies himself
with business receipts
encoding
sending them to his boss
perhaps
to the main office
signifying profits
i still wonder
why a man like myself
wastes so much time
in this
unkind endeavor
there is no money here
but there is something more to it than money
that keeps me going
despite
those marked differences
i am no businessman
neither a worker
for any boss out there
dictating what to do with my life
after that lonely poem
that i write
i rest my fingers upon nothing
the man left hurriedly as other clients
are waiting
he keeps issuing those receipts
and must remit
encode each
over and over again
for an updat with
Boss
and then i stand up
walk past him
towards
actually an uncertain direction
perhaps the
busy streets this time where no one
recognizes
the greatness that i still keep intact
inside my
chest
for i am the anonymous poet in this
new country
that speaks not a nuance of my language
the temperature rises
but i still do not dream
for the need of
a Cesaro hat
to save me from this
killing heat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Oft I Remember...
as i place my feet
in another country i step upon
an internet cafe
goggling upon a poem
inspired by the changes of the
of the situation
on some dreams of reforms
i start to compose another poem
for the wind
&
this i cannot forget
a man on the other side
loose tie and
unbuttoned shirt
on my left busies himself
with business receipts
encoding
sending them to his boss
perhaps
to the main office
signifying profits
i still wonder
why a man like myself
wastes so much time
in this
unkind endeavor
there is no money here
but there is something more to it than money
that keeps me going
despite
those marked differences
i am no businessman
neither a worker
for any boss out there
dictating what to do with my life
after that lonely poem
that i write
i rest my fingers upon nothing
the man left hurriedly as other clients
are waiting
he keeps issuing those receipts
and must remit
encode each
over and over again
for an updat with
Boss
and then i stand up
walk past him
towards
actually an uncertain direction
perhaps the
busy streets this time where no one
recognizes
the greatness that i still keep intact
inside my
chest
for i am the anonymous poet in this
new country
that speaks not a nuance of my language
the temperature rises
but i still do not dream the need of
a straw hat
to save me from this
killing heat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boss Of Me
Yes, no, maybe
I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair, so I just stare at the stain on the wall where
The TV'd been, but ever since we've moved in it's been empty
Why I, why I'm in this room
There is no point explaining
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is a test, but I confess
I like this mess I've made so far
Grade on a curve and you'll observe
I'm right below the horizon
Yes, no, maybe, I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dialogue With A Poet
Are you a poet?
Yes, I am a poet
How do you know that
I have composed a poem
You are a poet
when you compose
But right now?
I shall compose oneday again
You are a poet
the moment you compose
after that?
are you sure that
second one will also
be a poem
If second one is like first one
that is not a poem.
You must know a poem
can be a poem only once
What is a good poem
you never know.
To compose a good poem
you need a situation
or a context
that can not be repeated.
So you are not a poet
You will never be a poet.
poem by Devil Poet
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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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There Is No Poem I Can Write
THERE IS NO POEM I CAN WRITE
There is no poem I can write
That can solve the problems of my life-
A poem may save for a moment
Or give hope for a brief time
I may make me believe in myself again
For an instant-
It cannot make money
Or improve the situation
Of those I care about-
It cannot even now
Shake me from my despair
My sense of myself going down
A poem can be only very small help now
Very very small
It cannot even make me wholly believe
In the so- called poem I am writing now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again
THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’
‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?
Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’
The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem After Poem After Poem
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
Poem after poem after poem
But a poem is not the way out.
Money is depleting
Soon I’ll be without.
How will I manage to live then
What will become of us all?
To write a poem is to do nothing
When the writing is on the wall.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A White Bench
at the plaza of this town
fronting the cafe
where i am now writing this poem
i see a white cemented bench
beside a mahogany tree
three men are sitting
they are talking
and i cannot hear them
i am walled
by this glass wall
one wears a white cap
holding a radio
blue faded jeans
and rubber shoes
the second one
a brown subanen native
wearing a white shirt
with a political ads
to vote for mayor dong
the third one
already left before i finished this poem
i could have described him
but i fell short of time and sensitivity
i ask someone beside me
what these three men are up to
they are waiting
they are looking for a job on this hard times
when the price of rice has gone high
together with the gas
i know you want something more than this kind of write
did i keep you waiting too?
tell me did i keep you waiting too for something that you want me to tell you?
i have nothing to tell you
how does it feel to wait, hours perhaps, for something that does not come/
how does it feel to wait
for nothing? tell me, tell me, if you understand now, how is it to sit on a white
bench beside a mahogany tree, in the plaza, in front of an internet cafe
where i write a poem
and nothing nothing really happens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Boss Man
Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man turn it around
If you dont look away how can I sit down
Look at this load upon my back
Gotta get this wheel back on the track
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no
Holes in my pockets and holes in my shoes
If youre ready for me Im ready for you
The company plan takes all my pay
Got a child in july and another last may
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Push your face down in the coal
cause you got no heart you got no soul
Country lifes the life for me
In ten more years Ill a pensioner be
The younger lad knows when the girls are out
But you might say hes a rural sprout
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man clear the track
Youre gonna tear the skin right offa my back
Boss man, boss man what do ya say
If you cant lend a hand then get outta my way
Itll be murder in the first degree
If you ever lay your hands on me
Boss man boss man pay my rent
A dollar Ive earned is a dollar Ive spent
The company plan takes all my check
For breakin my back and riskin my neck
Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Righteous Block!
With all my soul, I know in truth, a poem's on its way!
I've waited here to show the proof and I'll wait here all day!
No tea for me, no slice of cake! I'll starve till it gets done!
Yes, pretty soon, the clouds will break to share the golden sun!
Send light, o Lord, I've got my pen! The paper's here as well!
Though now it's all beyond my ken, I've got a tale to tell!
It's up to You! Just send it down! Some whimsy to amuse...
Some prose that's meant to ease a frown. Some doggerel if You choose.
'Pretty please! ' Oh, won't You tell me? I'm all ears... time to talk!
Nope, there's nothing much on telly! No need to sit and gawk!
I'm trying to be patient 'cos You're busy all the time...
Oh, go on... pleeeeze.... Believe me, Boss... I'm ready for a rhyme!
Some blessing that can be outpoured like wine straight from a cask!
A teeny weeny poem, Lord! Is that too much to ask?
You write much better than I do! I'm not in Your league yet!
Most times I haven't got a clue... You're really my best bet!
My, my, that hour sure went slow! I've tapped my fingers out!
I'm feeling lonely here below! What's Your poem about! ?
Don't hold it back! Just let it fly! Feel free to step on in...
These silences sure make me sigh! Sometimes I just can't WIN! !
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sir Pacifico Berlan, the Man...... worth Emulating
the canticles of work, shadowed the voluminous
documentation of projects and titles found and
resemble in the office, made the real guy the
man; fitted to lift the moral esteem amongst the
workers of DAR, at this momentous of time
you have been there, who witness and guide
the best of what we have; the boss, that come and
allure our tiredness strength, patiently waiting
every tears and flesh sweat, to calm and settle our
mingled mind in the table await
the smile and the laugher that hold, of the
rain to come in morning mist; venture the glory of
every fly of wings in the cloudy sky, while the
oozing fatherly gesture and the whispering touches
echo in every heart for a Boss who lives and cared
a loving hand blew our fainted body of exhaustion
has come to rest
as the stream pour out the river, down to the blue
sea, the gain hurdle the target to reach, the idea of
what we wish to come, a beautiful DAR, that light
the horizon of hope to the farmer of this wonderful
country Philippines
the man whom i idolized of the given task, the
Boss, who shared his precious knowledge from his
experienced; a listening friend to our personal and
office inquiries, a fatherly man, that leads us to
harmony with other employees and a friend that
hold us to join in the pedestal of journey to reach the
passion of joy
my salute, and great respect to this humble man and
may the beginning of our search of a better tomorrow
be a successful worker of today.......
' a poem dedicated to Mr.Pacifico Berlan our Boss,
a Friend and a Loving family man of our time '
Engr. Enriquita T. Liao
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me A POEM
wrtie me a poem.
why don't you write me a poem?
you other girls get cars and money.
write me a poem.
all i want is a poem. a long beutiful poem.
write me a poem.
poetry is like making love. long and beutiful.
write me a poem.
i don't need your money or cars. all i want is your words.
so please,
WRITE ME A POEM.
written by bleeding mascara
poem by Shadow Eyes
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Why ….. Boss Always Bann FB FB?
WHY ….. Boss always bann FB FB?
Office time la …work u - work u
FB Friend la call me come u come u
Office work... Boss fear...
.Friends calls come here,
My Mind aare full in tenss
WHY ….. Boss always bann FB FB?
Boss call u work u work u
Frnds call u cum u cum u
B/w both my Mind la stuff u stuff u
Fb without life la.bore u bore u
Y boss can't ……realize …
WHY ….. Boss always bann FB FB?
poem by Ruhi Narang
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The Poem About The Poem
The poem about the poem
And what is a poem?
And what is a poet?
And will the poem
Save me?
Help you?
And is writing the poem
The best I can do?
Or is it only words and more words?
Is the poem about the poem
For the poet only?
Or for each one reading and speaking and hearing it?
The poem about the poem
On this sunny spring Jerusalem morning
Peace and happiness in me -
The poem about the poem
For now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem's Language
a poem has it's own language
if a poet uses the glamour of the language
in his poem...the language
would stand out
if a poet shows his versatality over the language
in his poem...the poet
would stand out
the poet and the language should
lose themselves in the poem...for
the poem to speak it's own language
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Running With The Boss Sound
Yesterday by the paperstand I felt the power
Of another religion
Rebels with a cause came out of the sun
And spoke the only language theyd been given
Creepers tapping out the beat as I felt the heat
Man they sure looked neat
Well tonight for sure
You could feel the same as me
We didnt have to fight
On the other side of town
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
In the day we use machines or brains
Cos we need hard cash for living
And later between tracks & raps with friends
Well find some time for loving
Stratocasters straff the sky
As disco johnny hustles by
Man those feet can fly, high
Well tonight lets dance and risk romance
Baby lets take a chance
Well make it in a single bound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
I feel it in the air and I know that youre there
We wont let you down
The phantoms of the underground
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Racing wild with the radios blasting
Out ready steady go
As we rip through the charts
Crashing like angles
At the end of rocks rainbow
Electricity runs in my blood like gods
Man if you could see it
By tonight for sure youd be the same as me
A junkie needing more
Our feet burning up the ground
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Yeah were burning up the ground
Where the rockabilly beat pounds
With the ska rhythm pressing down
Where the skinhead moon stomp pounds
Where the heavy metal comes down
When the punk rockers are round
Yeah you and I are found
Yeah you and I are found
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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