A selection of poems chosen because they make comments
on important social issues


The Important Career

Today I left some dishes dirty,
The bed got made around two-thirty.
The nappies soaked a little longer,
The odour grew a little stronger.
The crumbs I spilled the day before
Were staring at me from the floor.
The dirty streaks on window panes
Will still be there next time it rains.
"For shame O lazy one," you say,
And "Just what have you done all day?"

I nursed a baby while he slept,
I held a toddler while he wept,
I played a game of hide-and-seek,
I squeezed a toy so it would squeak,
I pushed a swing, I sang a song,
I taught a child what's right and wrong.

What did I do this whole day through?
Not much that shows - I guess that's true.
Unless you think that what I've done
Might be important to someone
With bright blue eyes and soft blond hair.
If that is true, I've done my share.

Written by a young New Zealand Mum,
and one of the finest poems we've read.



Ode to a Treacherous Secretary

And so I leave this message on your screen,
The very last of many there have been
Of jocularity and mere fun,
To help the tedium of our work to run,
With comments innocent and not too deep,
To help us all our sanity to keep
When pressures all around, and from above,
Created daily grind of work we love.

I did not have you down as a traitress
Until I heard, on tape, your voice profess
That you thought Frank, with ill intent,
Was guilty of the 'sin' of harassment.
Old Frank, who wouldn't hurt a fly,
Has had to leave without a last goodbye.

You listened to the feminazi rant.
You paid your dues to feministic cant.
For thirty silver coins you sold a man
Whose twenty-seven years of service ran
Till all the managerial skills he'd mastered.
You aided and abetted that young bastard,
Moira, who was called the office flirt -
With off-the-shoulder blouse and micro-skirt -
To vent her spleen on one who wouldn't fall,
Thus making utter strangers of us all.

So now, no more to ease our several ways,
The near-knuckle card from holidays,
The 'See you soon!' instead of plain 'Goodbye!'
The arm around your shoulder when you cry.
No longer will we join in office fun;
Frigidity and fear now will run
Amongst all those of us who'd often say
A word or two of humour in the day.
The innocence of banter, idly offered,
No offence taken - never any proffered.

Tomorrow must be just another day.
No 'Hi-ya Jane!' But, 'Good morning, Miss Grey.'

(Male view magazine Jan-Mar 1994 - with permission)
The following note by the magazine editor is interesting:
'This is one of the saddest and most poignant contributions we have so far received for "Male View".
It was sent in by a reader who for many years has worked in an office environment. The work
was sometimes hard but the camaraderie second to none; that is until so-called "sexual
harassment" reared its ugly head in the shape of a false accusation by an office worker well known for her flirtatious ways. She put pressure on the writer's secretary, Jane Grey, to back up her accusation, and the man concerned was dismissed.
The writer often worked late and frequently left messages on his computer - sometimes of a humorous nature - for Jane who would read them the following morning.
When he heard what had happened, he stayed behind after work and wrote this poem. When he came in late the following morning, he found Jane sitting in front of the computer in tears.
Realising the enormity of what she had done, and what she had destroyed, her last act in the office was to type out her resignation which her boss, very sadly, accepted."


A few limericks
A lady who triplets begat,
Their names being Nat, Pat and Tat,
Had fun with the breeding
But trouble with feeding
'Cause she didn't have a tit for Tat.
A surgeon named Melanie Brett
With her patient had sex for a bet.
She said, “"It occurs!"”
But all friends of hers
Said, “"But Melanie, you are a vet."”
A horrible femmy called Dworkin
Spent her life writing rubbish and talkin'.
She went down in the flames
With the rest of those dames.
Now she's given up talkin' for squawkin'.