I wake and let a yawning sigh,
The day is dull, clouds in the sky.
With wind in my hair, I set off for work,
From nine till five as an office clerk.
The job is, I'll admit it, lame,
But it pays the bills and beer the same.
Even so, the work is tedious,
No college is slightly facetious.
Will I ever escape this prison?
Or am I doomed to secretarianism?
The walls close an inch every day,
Oh fate, shall I ever get paid?
I think not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem. Very well conceived. Rich in imagery and style. Fine poetics. I rate it 10. Thanks for sharing..... Please read and rate my poem 'A humble complaint' on page 2. Please use the search box by typing the name of the poem if the page doesn't open with the title of the poem.