How to Join Member's Area Private Library Search Today's Topics p Login
Main Forums Discussion Tech Talk Mature Content Archives
   Nav Win
 Archives
 Open Poetry #1 Archive
 The Pilings
 1 2 3
Follow us on Facebook

 This is an Archive. You may post a reply, but new topics are not allowed.

 
User Options
Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Admin Print Send ECard
Passions in Poetry

The Pilings

 Post A Reply   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
Tim
Senior Member
since 06-08-99
Posts 1801


0 posted 07-07-99 04:05 PM       View Profile for Tim   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Tim

The summer sun beats down, in merciless attack
Sweat poured off his shoulders, and down his chiseled back
In his hands a shovel, on roadbed he did toil
For seven bucks an hour, as searing sun did boil.

No one knew his background, or where he went at night
Appeared each day at sunrise, to toil at dawn's first light
He never spoke a word, just went about his work
Always did as ordered, no task did e'er he shirk.

While working on some pilings, for bridge to cross Mill Creek
The workers stopped with wide-eyed stare, as man did up and speak
I'll work no more 'cause this ain't right, he said with deep disgust
Someone's changed the grade of steel, these pilings they will bust.

The boss he came a running, screamed, what's the matter here
What is this talk of faulty steel? is just a groundless fear
I might have saved a couple bucks, it's what I had to do
The public needs this road right now, the work it must go through.

The boss then turned and spoke to man with shovel in his hand
I admire anyone, who in his craw's got sand
But you're just a working man, you are not the boss
Pick up your check and hit the road, wrong person you did cross.

To the boss the man replied, this discourse it is through
I am but a working man, not smart as likes of you
Your intellect belongs, at bureaucratic desk
Your lunacy of logic, at best is Kafkaesque.

He walked o'er to a cement truck, sat behind the wheel
Drove down the embankment, into the piling's steel
The road it now is finished, the pilings were repaired
They buried man with shovel, beneath the bridge interred.

My father was a judge, he set a killer free
He swore to his creator, no more courtrooms he would see
For the killer killed again, a mother and her son
In penance for his legal deed, hard labor he'd begun.

Occasionally I'll travel, along Mill Creek I'll go
As I cross the Mill Creek bridge, I'll gaze down far below
No matter what our status, we all with demons live
And if our lives have meaning, we must ourselves forgive.



[This message has been edited by Tim (edited 07-07-99).]
© Copyright 1999 Tim - All Rights Reserved
Craig
Senior Member
since 06-10-99
Posts 882


1 posted 07-07-99 04:29 PM       View Profile for Craig   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Craig

Absolutely fabulous this is an easy read that coveys all the right feelings, creates all the right pictures has a great twist and a superb ending.

Iíll be coming back to this one again and again
Tim
Senior Member
since 06-08-99
Posts 1801


2 posted 07-07-99 09:52 PM       View Profile for Tim   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Tim

Thank you for the nice words Craig...
Mike
Member Elite
since 06-19-99
Posts 2528


3 posted 07-08-99 11:35 AM       View Profile for Mike   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Mike

*

[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 07-29-99).]
Tim will be notified of replies
 Post A Reply   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
All times are ET (US) Top
  User Options
>> Archives >> Open Poetry #1 >> The Pilings Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Print Send ECard

 

pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Today's Topics | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary



© Passions in Poetry and netpoets.com 1998-2013
All Poetry and Prose is copyrighted by the individual authors