Work Poem #2

Distorted threats from stormy skies,

they always look much much darker from a distance,

contrasted aspects amplified,

a feedback loop that furnishes resistance.



6 thoughts on “Work Poem #2

    1. I was afraid someone would pick up on this. I should’ve known it would be my age-old nemesis, Baroness Goldilocks von Frankensusan!
      Yes, guilty as charged! And I’d do it again!
      Although in my defence, I was bored, the boss wasn’t in, I’m a handsome prince, and I did it in my work notebook with my serious face on. So I think that makes it OK.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Door? Oh there’s posh. I’ve never had a door. I am always int eh middle of some sodding open office. I am not designed for the open office. I turn into that guy in Edvard Munch’s The Scream. I really do. It’s just noit me. I need myt own office. With peace and quiet and dignity, and a lockable door that people have to damn well knock to get through, and a massage chair for when I’m stressed, and a pool table, and a rowing machine, and a chill out zone, and a model village, and a ghost train, and dancing girls, and strange animals on parade, and a secret escape pod for when the shit hits the fan. It’s not too much to ask is it? Poetry, you want poetry Susan? I see. Well what Susan wants, Susan shall have.


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