Scott McQueen

Rookie (United States)

The Work I Hate


Could it be so? Is my end this near?
Is that the carriage of Death I hear?
No, it can't be. I've wasted no time.
I did not play or have a good time

I worked and I toiled, day in and day out
I gave not a whimper, I did not pout
So why does Death draw ever faster?
What treachery's this? I must speak to his Master

Maybe that's it; that must be the answer
The toil I've done is simply cancer
All the work that I've done in this lifetime
Has create a tumor, filled with lost time

Planted in the plains of cowardice
Sewn into the soil of avarice
Watered by my lonely tears
Grown under a Sun of broken cheer

The work that I've done was meaningless
For it did not yield for me happiness
I wasted my life working for pain
I did work that I hated and saw no gain

Submitted: Saturday, October 20, 2012
Edited: Monday, October 22, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Work I Hate by Scott McQueen )

Enter the verification code :

  • Rookie - 663 Points Cynthia Buhain-baello (10/20/2012 9:19:00 PM)

    Remarkable and deeply compelling, this is brilliantly written and the lines just cut through the reader's conscience and provokes reflective thoughts. I find the form and content excellently conveyed.10+++++ (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  4. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  5. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  6. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  7. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  8. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  9. If, Rudyard Kipling
  10. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Edward Housman

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]