Hardwork poem

Life will beat you up, life will knock you down.

But no matter what happens, always remember to just stay strong.

I may get hurt, but one thing you will never see on my face is a frown.

No matter the circumstances in my life, I always work hard all yearlong.

Hard work and dedication will get you far, that's what I believe

I have worked way too hard to get where I am today

That's why I would never just drop the ball and leave

I am like a ancient Greek sculpture, chised out of clay.

I cannot claim all the glory; I have also been very blessed

One thing is for sure, I always perservere, I never give up.

Being number one is all I want, never second best.

When people ask me if I can achieve my dreams, I always say: "yup".

By the sweat of your brow you eat
You toil night and day
With your hands and feet
You put your mind to everything
You work on it with all your might
To satisfy the thing called need
We all need something
We all want something
Sometimes our want becomes our need
We all have something we want to achieve
We work hard
Even under the hottest day
We seek that shining star
Though lost in a vast sea wave
Hardwork begins with a stumble
Greatness begins by being humble

Tricky work sometimes not to smell yourself, 

ferment being constant—constant as carnival sweat 

(a non-stock phrase I palmed from a girl from Canada, 

a land where I once saw this graffiti: life is great). 

And I have tasted myself, especially when I spilled 

sinigang all down my arm in a Pinoy workers' caff 

in Little Manila. I drank sinigang (is soup drunk?) 

in Big Manila too, with all its dead skyscrapers. 

Seen myself? In looking glasses or, looking down, 

stocky as a shift working cop, maybe a Mexican cop 

full of beans (frijoles, I mean, not vim), paunch full 

of sopa de vigilia, pulling over a sozzled bus driver. 

Heard myself speak fluently in my own language, 

have heard myself too described as hard work 

(as hard to get through as Scotch broth), though once 

someone rather bladdered told me I was magnetic. 

And I may as well admit that I have touched myself 

(who hasn't?). In a forest, on a train, in New York 

and Paris with unparalleled handiwork, sinning   

as I go, merry as an office boy spooning onion soup.

We get up each morning,
and head off to work.
From construction to retail,
and a paper shuffling clerk.

Like the trees in our forests,
our jobs certainly vary.
A super busy schedule,
they commonly carry.

Our work is broken down,
as we focus on each task.
Bosses over our shoulders,
countless questions they ask.

Let’s not forget about,
all those extra long hours.
Evenings are filled,
with exhausted cold showers.

All this hard work,
is not hopeless or bleak.
A career of our choice,
waits at the peak.

We should combine hard work,
with skills that they need.
Throw in some passion,
and we’ll surely succeed.

It takes plenty of effort,
to do the job right.
The end result,
is a simple delight.