I wish I could write poetry all day.
Rhyme my troubles away.
I take my time to pray.
Sadly, I never play.
Whatever I say
Must surely convey
That I’m not okay.
I seek allay.
I need to get hired.
Money is required.
I want to feel inspired.
Get the job I desired.
I’m tired of feeling tired.
My brain must have rewired.
All that has transpired;
So many skills I acquired.
Days pass, I’m stuck in my chair.
My baby’s enjoying in daycare.
I try not to feel despair
So things won’t further impair.
I am aware.
Aspired millionaire.
Though I try to repair,
It feels I’m going nowhere.
If I had work to do
I wouldn’t feel so blue.
Every day I pursue,
Keep pushing through.
But I’m stuck in a queue.
Stress I fail to subdue.
Reality, I need to outdo.
Readjust my point of view.
When I get a new position
I hope it’ll cause transition.
I’ll be in a new condition.
I’ll receive some recognition.
This was a long exposition.
Let me tell you of my intuition:
I see they accept my submission.
The end to this intermission.
I’m here trying to tell,
A new position would be swell.
My stress will gradually quell.
I will constantly excel.
Put a real price tag on what I sell.
Write about ideas and not dwell.
Let my prayer become a spell:
Hard times, quickly dispel.
For more, try my poetry book Domestic Silence.
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