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Jan 04, 2018
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Day O N E
Day one chuffs out the station, awkwardly and shudderingly slow,
As a coal loader from days long ago..
I haul the tasks along, even then,
In the afternoon sun that creeps through the warehouse door..
I sense the weariness in me, and feel I may..
Have snored..
And yet, here I am clock watching again,
As the felllas, try time and again
To find things industrious to do,
Or else, failing, fall on that too,
And slouch around screens,
As is the want of orphaned office workers,
In this slow, chuffing season,
And graininess of purpose..
The train of thought,
Void of ideas, inches out of the station,
The loath carriages, buckle and rear,
Just that one thing I’ve been waiting for,
And it’s the clock tick,
At a quarter past four.
(Tomorrow will be easier..:) )
About This Poem
Last Few Words: A not that serious poem, for all those poor buggers that had to work new years..feeling a little bit less than functional. I know that feeling. Sometimes jotting down a few lines helps. :) Chris.
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
IRiz
7 years 6 months ago
great poem
fresh and honest
vandiemenspeak
7 years 6 months ago
Cheers IRiz!
Yes, honestly there was no hiding that post new years fatigue. Thanks for your comment.
Chris.
Eumolpus
7 years 6 months ago
considering the shape
I do think a poem needs a refined "shape". Lines 1 and 5 are particularly long and might be broken into two or shortened so the poem presents itself to the reader in a more defined Shape.
Don't think we need the snoring image as presented, with the dots. Prefer just "I sense the weariness in me" to end the stanza. Here's some small changes i suggest:
Day one chuffs out the station, (great word, chuffs!)
awkwardly and shudderingly slow.
I, a coal loader from days long ago, (need to establish the subject)
Hauling the tasks along, even then,
In the afternoon sun that creeps
through the warehouse door;
I sense the weariness in me.
Here I am clock watching again,
As the fellas try time and again
To find things industrious to do,
Or else, failing, fall on that too,
And slouch around TV screens, (TV screens?)
As is the want of orphaned office workers,
In this slow, chuffing season,
And graininess of purpose, (confusing- omitted "train of thought")
Void of ideas, inches out of the station,
The loath carriages, buckle and rear,
Just one thing I’ve been waiting for,
And it’s the clock tick,
as the train departs
at a quarter past four.
I think the poem sets a mood of this worker and delivers.