The Janitor

Folder: 
Vintage Words

 

.

Remembrances of hands that kept

the school clean. Duty from one

who did not attend university,

or learn a high tech trade, or own

the saavy of a business person.

.

Energy efficient, driven by muscles

in an archaic swabbing of aging sorrows,

buffing cracked linoleum in storage

closets. This labor was defined twenty years

ago as endless. He dreams of daughters

who will graduate and lead instead

of follow.

.

The same routine, passingly remembered

of one who trudged past retrieving candy

wrappers whe had tossed unthinkingly to

the floors. He will work forty years,  

to defer want and hunger from his

wife's door.

.

allets

03-21-17

1027a

 

 

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Blackwingedbird's picture

I was a janitor for years

I was a janitor for years myself, ehhh.. it was a job, one that I never let define me. 

allets's picture

To Be Able To Move On

In the 50's - you stayed at your post - worked it a lifetime, like coal miners and butlers. To move on was not an option -but to have a job was the prize, to work, to hold your own. Anything to make ends connect. My grandmother picked tobacco  in Michigan.  I worked for a lady my age who picked cotton in Georgia. Post 1929, it was work. It's office work for me. We've come a long way. :D


 

 

muneer's picture

your memories poems is like a

your memories poems

is like a night tale

we should read for our kids

to have a nice dream

not to be rich

but respect humankind

allets's picture

I Give My Obeyance

to humanity, however, there are no holds barred when humanity acts out - it's a rule :D


 

 

KingofWords's picture

Beautiful

That's so beautiful. :)

allets's picture

Thanks So Very Very Very

Poem is based on a maintenance man who cleaned a hotel when I was a kid. I imagine the drudgery, but his family was provided for sufficiently. He was a hero. -Thanks for the read, doc :D


 

 

Blackwingedbird's picture

Thumbs up.

Thumbs up.

allets's picture

Thank you, Blakwingedbird

This was difficult to write - taken for granted, the invisibility - the lack of appreciation bothers me a bit more than I care to admit. - slc