Jobs for poets

I tried to make this a haiku, but oxymoronic had too many syllables. Poetry.org has good intentions. Still,,, poets require life. This is why so many poets sell life insurance or are farmers, or see clients for a range of things.

Jobs for poets is

oxymoronic,

We already know

Poets have

Built-in jobs.

No need to look.

Application

And here I thought I was applying for jobs...to obtain a job.

I apply for jobs

To learn what’s out there,

Possibilities ringing

Probably endless

But certainly

Not all there is.

Nothing is ever

All there is.

I apply for jobs

It seems

Simply to apply,

Only sometimes it is

To engage in conversation

About

What I might do for you,

What you might do for me,

What we indeed

Might do for each other.

This is more                          

What it’s all about

But certainly

Not all there is.

Nothing is ever

All there is.

Hobby

Sometimes even an interview is involved, during which I discover Not this one, either.  What an odd hobby. Still I wonder whether the right thing is out there somewhere, or in here somewhere.  It seems the jobs I apply for now are getting closer.  It seems the conversations I am having are getting closer... to something.  Still.  What an odd hobby.

My hobby these days

Is applying for jobs I

Surely will not get.

Save the poetry

It matters what we read. It matters what we place before our eyes.  I do like what I am already doing.  It fits with my soul.  Today I got notice that the Holy Spirit is following me on Twitter.  This is so much better than  random job listings.  I also receive poetry in my inbox every morning.  I will keep poetry and God reminders in front of me.

I survey what arrives

Every morning.

It*s time

To clear out

The job listings,

Look at

What I am already doing,

Hold it up

To the light.

I cancelled the first listing

Today.

Then I read

Three of the daily poems.

I saw

The Holy Spirit now follows me

On Twitter.

I kept that one.

Everyone should keep reminders

Of God

In his inbox,

Reminders of God

In her inbox.

Now I make sure

To save

The poetry.

Job lists

Thank God for the crabapple and redbud.  Their spring beauty will most likely be fleeting, with rain predicted over the next couple days.  I know from past years when the redbud lets loose, the sidewalk will be covered in purple buds, and I will process to the car, like a bride walking through rose petals.  It is good to know hope will be fulfilled.  Soon I may even cancel all those job listings.

Most mornings

Jobs arrive

In my inbox.

I have subscribed

To various lists.

Why I still hope for jobs

In the inbox

I don*t know.

I barely look at them

Anymore.

Still it is strangely comforting

To know there are positions

Waiting.

I wonder whether

They will be filled

By a blonde

Or perhaps by someone

With the right assortment of letters

After their name

Or maybe someone

Who has counted their hours

Exactly right.

The jobs arrive                               

In my inbox.

I barely see them anymore.

This morning the crabapple flowers

In back,

The redbud

In front.

It seems there are different things

To hope for,

Different things

To find.

Find the right job

Even though I no longer believe in the right job, I still can*t quite bring myself to cancel this email that arrives in my box every morning.  I don*t even read it.


Find the right job!

The email arrives every morning.

It comes with a listing of jobs.

They are anything but right.

I do not open the emails anymore.

Still

I cannot find it in myself

To cancel

The every morning subscription.

It costs nothing

To subscribe,

Only a finger stroke

To delete.

One more email.

Months ago

It seemed good

To subscribe.

It*s not time yet

To cancel

Even though I do not open the emails

Anymore.

Maybe tomorrow.