conditions of employment
say a man can't make extra arrangements
with any other employers
it has to be
one day rostered on
one day rostered off
in the heat
of the main kitchen
and that's all
but at the end of a summer
when the weeks of hot sun
have done their work
and the crops
have reached a ripening
when pollen and storm warnings
are filling the air
there's a farmer in porepunkah
with thirty acres of grass
to cut for hay
and to carry into storage
before the rain spoils it
and in the stanley hills
there are orchards
with their own brief seasons
of apples and pears
and sweet black cherries
to be picked and graded
and packed into cool stores
and the plumber
in town
needs an able assistant
for digging ditches
erecting spouting
and doing general handiwork
there’s a house to pay off
a refrigerator to buy
and the kids are wearing mud
into the neighbours carpets
because there is
no television at home
conditions of employment
don't understand
the conditions of living
that a man with a family
has to meet
~
- Author: Frank Prem ( Offline)
- Published: March 14th, 2018 01:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry Part 1 - Early Years.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Comments3
So true Frank.
The roster pattern for kitchen staff was 1 10 hour day worked, 1 day off. My father worked many casual jobs in the early days.
Really enjoying these poems.
Hi Leisa. Thank you. I don't think there is much around that deals with the old institutions. Glad to be bringing these recollections to the table to share.
I think I'm just old enough to see where you're coming from. People younger than me won't have the privilege of knowing about the way things wen't down back then, I fear. Alas, they will be faced with robots stealing their jobs! Sweet revenge, muahaha. Anyways, nice piece of work sir. Much truth indeed.
Hi Nicholas.
Yes, that thought drove me to write these and a couple of other collections of 'memoir' pieces. The sure knowledge that what I had experienced was no longer available to a younger generation.
I suspect the appeal has bypassed the younger folk, anyway and resonates more with those closer to being of an age with me. Nostalgia, I suppose.
No matter. We write.
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