This page is specially prepared for boss poems. You can reach newest and popular boss poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the boss poems you read.
Reading from my book
poetry is my boss
is how I die every night
I disappear from sight
I Asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
A Grain Of Sand
If starry space no limit knows
And sun succeeds to sun,
There is no reason to suppose
Our earth the only one.
It’s what makes the hummingbirds sing
It’s what makes that the inner core of my being grow wings
Grow wings yes and fly to heights never before discovered
Bask in feelings so intense that nothing, no one else mattered
Where ever something breathes
Heart beating the rise and fall
Of mountains, the waves upon the sky
Of seas, the terror is our ignorance, that's
To Think Of Time
To think of time, of all that retrospection!
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
Have you guess'd you yourself would not continue?
Manifestation is not a medium that you can change into,
Two or three different forms at a time, but
It’s the moment that you change in each events you attend to be,
You can be the doctor in the hospital but a husband & dad at home.
An Easy-goin' Feller
Ther' ain't no use in all this strife,
An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life.
I don't believe in goin' too fast
To see what kind o' road you ‘ve passed.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
I let myself in at the kitchen door.
“It's you,” she said. “I can't get up. Forgive me
Not answering your knock. I can no more
Let people in than I can keep them out.
In The Factory
Oh, here in the shop the machines roar so wildly,
That oft, unaware that I am, or have been,
I sink and am lost in the terrible tumult;
And void is my soul… I am but a machine.
Oh how I'd be gay and glad
If a little house I had,
Snuggled in a shady lot,
With behind a garden plot;
No rest-not one day in the seven for me?
Not one, from the maddening yoke to be free?
Not one to escape from the boss on the prowl,
His sinister glance and his furious growl,
Journey Of Hopes
Hope keep us inspiring to do,
Never stop at all,
Planning for what next will be,
To carry on with our dreams.
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where “fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green”;
The Iliad: Book 07
With these words Hector passed through the gates, and his brother
Alexandrus with him, both eager for the fray. As when heaven sends a
breeze to sailors who have long looked for one in vain, and have
laboured at their oars till they are faint with toil, even so
The Old Stockman's Lament
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Where this piffle and sham wonâ??t disgust me,
In the land where the coolibahs grow;
The Fifty-per-cent Man
Just half a man,' he told the boss, 'right now you look upon.
An accident did this to me, 'twere better had I died,
It robbed me of efficiency, but left me with my pride.'
Edgar Albert Guest
The Amateur Rider
Him goin' to ride for us! Him -- with the pants and the eyeglass and all.
Amateur! don't he just look it -- it's twenty to one on a fall.
Boss must be gone off his head to be sending out steeplechase crack
Out over fences like these with an object like that on his back.
More For The Money
What are the wild waves saying now that their lengths are changed?
In a manner most dismaying are the stations now aranged.
And I twist and twirl and twiddle at the knobs, then, with a screech
Come sounds of a sobbing fiddle and a League of Nations speech,
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
There were three in the meadow by the brook,
Gathering up windrows, piling haycocks up,
With an eye always lifted toward the west,
Where an irregular, sun-bordered cloud
The Ballad Of The Ice-worm Cocktail
To Dawson Town came Percy Brown from London on the Thames.
A pane of glass was in his eye, and stockings on his stems.
Upon the shoulder of his coat a leather pad he wore,
To rest his deadly rifle when it wasn't seeking gore;
Aroused and angry,
I thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war;
But soon my fingers fail'd me, my face droop'd, and I resign'd myself,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or silently watch the dead.
The Song Of The Wage-slave
When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,
I hope that it won't be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say.
And I hope that it won't be heaven, with some of the parsons I've met-
All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget.
to say to him,
'How is the wife, Paul?'- and he'd disappear.
Some said it was because be bad no wife,
And hated to be twitted on the subject;
My Boss keeps sporty girls, they say;
His belly's big with cheer.
He squanders in a single day
What I make in a year.
Robert William Service
We have heard many sermons, you and I,
And many more may hear,
When sitting quiet in cathedral nave,
Saltbush Bill's Second Flight
The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
The Iliad: Book 13
Now when Jove had thus brought Hector and the Trojans to the
ships, he left them to their never-ending toil, and turned his keen
eyes away, looking elsewhither towards the horse-breeders of Thrace,
the Mysians, fighters at close quarters, the noble Hippemolgi, who
All is wellâ??in a prisonâ??to-night, and the warders are crying â??Allâ??s Well!â??
I must speak, for the sake of my heartâ??if itâ??s but to the walls of my cell.
For what does it matter to me if to-morrow I go where I will?
Iâ??m as free as I ever shall beâ??there is naught in my life to fulfil.
There were three in the meadow by the brook
Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay,
With an eye always lifted toward the west
Where an irregular sun-bordered cloud
Italian Campagna 1309, the open road
Bah! I have sung women in three cities,
But it is all the same;
HE WAS working on a station in the Western when I knew him,
And he came from Conongamo, up the old surveyorsâ?? track,
And the fellows all admitted that no man in Vic. could â??do him,â??
Since heâ??d smothered Stonewall Menzie, also Anderson, the black.
Edward George Dyson
The Bench-legged Fyce
Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce
Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice.
Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose
From his predisposition to chronic repose;
Get through breakfast an' make my bed,
And Mother says: 'Marjorie, run ahead!
There's a time for work and a time for fun,
Edgar Albert Guest
I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life-we owe to flies.
Well it wasn't too very long ago you know some folks walked with a hi-dee-ho
And other folks walked around kind of low
Sayin' Yowzah and Sho nuff and Yassuh boss
It was ashes to ashes and dust to dust and they didn't believe in makin' a fuss