Friday, December 09, 2011

Temping Poetry

Not to be confused with tempting poetry.

So today I had another temp job.  This one was in an office tower where my job was to man the phones while everyone else in the office was out of town.  I spent the day completely alone, but there was a computer.  So I got quite a bit of writing done, and read a little too.

I also wrote some poetry.  Now usually my poetry is of the rhyming variety but for some reason today I was inspired to be a little different than usual.  There was something so very peculiar being all alone in such a big space with nothing to do . . . and being paid to be there. 

So for your reading pleasure.  Some Temp Poetry (if anyone can think of any titles, I welcome your input!).

Today I was paid to sit by the phones in an empty office.
Just in case.
There was one call.
I forwarded the message on. 
With gratitude: I’ll get back to them on Monday.

The light in here reflects not the time of day
Nor the season.
Only myself in the dark tinted windows.

I never know the truth:
At 11am, it snowed.

Some find their voice on silent mountain tops,
Or hidden in the chaos of a language they don't understand.
They see it in the beauty of a temple,
Or in the aftermath of tragic events.
I find it sitting in a chair,
In an empty office,
Listening to the white noise of a fan.
Once again inspiration found by a stranger in a strange land.

I tend to write poetry that rhymes.
Today not so much.
The absurdity of my situation puts me in a high school frame of mind.
Rhymes are for babies, and I’m deep when I
Fragment my

1 comment:

Rubin said...

:) Nice one.