A Slave to my job

A slave to my job

Mont St Michel - Wheel
When the Mont St Michel was used as a prison in the revolutionary era, men had to work this huge treadmill to drag a cart loaded with provisions up the walls of the fortress.

All tied up,
In compliant submission.
The last of my hang ups,
Over.
As my system shuts down,
The timely punch,
And it is ended.

Work over!!! Documents filed, phone calls finished and e-mails answered. It’s party time! (or collapse exhausted onto the sofa)
Mont St Michel Walls
A potion of the stone track which the cart travelled up as the men toiled in the tread mill.
I actually thoroughly enjoy my job but I rather like “clocking off” too, hence the poem. It is certainly a darn side more enjoyable than being stuck in a treadmill hauling up rotten cabbages and scraps to eat methinks.
Mont St Michel - Wheel
Another view of the wheel and the wooden cart used on the track.
 I don’t know if anyone else has found “allpoetry.com” but it is a fun site where you can share your poetry and get feedback. There is an element of “competition” about it which is not why I like it but it is another way to connect with people interested in writing. It is a chance to explore some more of your poetic side if such be your want.
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