poMotion poetry

Work

with 2 comments

Last night our dreams made waking rough
Alarms ignored, we rest instead.
There’s time to spare. There’s bread enough

To help ourselves shake off the slough
And fill our uniform of deeds.
Tonight’s bad dreams will wake us rough

And blearily-eying the break for lunch
One hand to punch, the other bleeds
To kill the time. There’s bread enough

To throw away, grow stale and tough.
But still we’re tied to these machines
That haunt our dreams, and make us rough,

Give birth to goods, such sundry stuff.
And still we scramble, birds to seed,
Though time’s to spare, and bread’s enough,

Because they manufactured drought
To each a thirst to match his need,
Sequestered dreams, kept waking rough,
and let us starve with bread enough.

By Meredith Reese

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Written by lickmypoetry

June 18, 2010 at 6:34 am

Posted in poem, poetry

Tagged with , , ,

2 Responses

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  1. “And still we scramble, birds to seed”…how well this describes the scenes in many a city as you watch folks head off to work…excellent portrait of workers.

    slpmartin

    June 18, 2010 at 10:34 am

  2. magnificent

    julie mccurdy

    June 19, 2010 at 10:22 am


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