Poetry: A Story For Young Employees

This is what they told me, this is what they said:
“Any names you want at all, except every name in red.”
So I looked through all they’d given me, lined and question marked,
And in the end I had my list, composed of thoughts and larks.
But when I brought my list with me, to a meeting with our top,
She looked at it then looked at me, and then the penny dropped:
“I notice that you’ve struck this off, and I’d like to just know why,
Because I’ve seen him work myself, and I do think he’s our guy.”

I should have mused and shrugged and left, I should have bit my lip,
I should have done just anything, but let this winner zip:
“It seems to me that when I pick, I think of work and worth,
But when you look at all these names, you see the last names first.”

So now I sit and file and sneeze, where once I dialed and signed.
Sometimes I type up résumés, but more to pass some time.
It’s hard to get an interview, when bosses recommend:
“This guy has so many honest bones, he’ll never break or bend.”


(Revision)


This is what they told me, this is what they said:
“Pick four to five you think are right, but not the names in red.”
So given what they’d given me, I thought and lined and ticked,
And in the end I had my three, the best I could have picked.
But when I brought my list to share, at a meeting with our top,
She looked at it then looked at me, and then the penny dropped:
“I know you’ve struck him off the list, but what about this guy?
I myself have seen his work, and think he’s worth a try.”

I should have mused or shrugged or caved, I should have bit my lip.
I should have done most anything, but let this zinger zip:
“It seems to me that when I picked, I saw their work and worth,
But when you looked at all these names, you saw the last names first.”

So now I sit and file and sneeze, where once I dialed and signed.
Sometimes I type up résumés, but those are wastes of time.
It’s hard to get an interview, when bosses recommend:
“This guy’s a bag of honest bones; he’ll never break or bend.”

Poetry: Missing A Ride On A Train / Missing Rides On Trains

He entered; his flat heels clipped into a staccato; his head bobbed as he walked.
He had choices the length of the train, but he wasn’t looking.
You’d think he didn’t care.
I did –
These things can go in a blur.

He leaned; his sleeved arm pressed into the corner; his legs crossed at the sock.
He had headphones the size of my fists, but he wasn’t listening.
You could see it in his stare.
I did –
Behind my newspaper.

He moved; his shirt’s tail slid into my sideview; his hands laced on his crotch.
He kept tapping his balls of his feet, but he wasn’t annoying.
You might have found it hard to bear.
I did –
He was now my neighbor.

He shifted, his smooth jeans chafed into each other, his head turned as mine stopped.
He said sorry the way of something; was something starting?

You would have maybe dared.

I didn’t.


(Revision)


it started when

He entered as the doors were kissing, easing them apart.
His woolen skin was touched by beads his glove soon brushed away.
I saw his headphones size of fists, and soccer-married boots,

But still I tracked his every step, each dirt and ugly stain.

most of the time

He’d lean in when the train would shudder, press against the glass.
His meaty hands probed countless tunes in airy corner drums.
I heard his stages grass and sets, the sighs at perfect plays,

But still I parsed the many strains, each loud and crowding cry.

but then one day

He shifted as the crowds were leaving, body next to mine.
His jeans were crossed and hands were still like supplicating twins.
I felt his heavy heated parts, his presence close to me,

But still I paused at every turn – I paused at every turn.

until

He left.

And so did I.

Poetry: Not Heard

This poem is meant to be read three ways: once through, then odd lines, and then even lines. The odd lines are meant to be in bold, but bolded white doesn't show up well (or at all; I can't tell the difference in any case).

And the last line is meant to be in bold.

---------------------

This is a country of four million
people, four million people with
smiles. This is a country
four million minds should very much find
worthwhile. In this a country
of four million smiling all dangers
four million will share. In this a country
of four million smiling in tandem
four million will fare
as one.