For Real Toads: a work of love

Izy's Out of Standard Challenge is a two-day event this week at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads but, unusually for me, I am writing this on the first day. Out of standard, indeed.

Izy challenges me to think of the worst job I ever had, make a list of words or phrases describing the job or how I felt about the job, and use those words in a poem that is not about said work.

Whew, a challenging job indeed, Izy, but here I have risen to the call—as a phoenix rises out of the ashes, so do I rise out of the mind-numbing stress of reporting my stolen wallet, eager to present fellow Toads and other poets with barely-poetical nonsense once again.

It's good to be back, too. We cruised from Miami, Florida, to ancient Venice, and had a wonderful time, except for the theft on the train from Naples on the second-last day of our unguided tour of Italy. I loved going to Europe by ship. As the phoenix and the other birds say, it's the only way to fly. And there are ships traveling to Australia from Vancouver, the city in whose environs I spent my working life. This gives me to think, indeed.

*

my angel, my darling,

for you do I long,

hours out of every day

and all the night...

Wikipedia image

there is no help for me.

I will always love you,

I cry while my poor

pained heart yearns

for the responsibility

of caring for you.

there are dead lines

on my forehead

as I double shift

my sports car past the house

where once we lived,

where once we loved.

Day 2 of Izy's challenge: I am reminded I forgot to include my list of job complaints:
long hours
poor paying
no help
double shifts
deadlines
responsibility (without corresponding pay, of course)