The Plight of Working Men

Work, work, laborious work
has taken its toll on men.
Their backs all sweaty,
their hands all chafed
and all their fingernails, ten

Caked with dirt, caked with grime,
unable to keep them clean.
Their arms are weary
at day's end.
Their legs are lank and lean.

Their shoes they leave right at the door,
a reminder of what they do.
Back-breaking jobs
to earn their pay,
jobs that are never through.

And yet they hold back
whines and complaints
and suffer in silent ways.
In the house that is their nest
their voice they will not raise.

Tired bodies and burned out dreams
have stopped the hopes of these men.
They methodically work
their laborious jobs
and wait for their days to end.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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