Memories Stowed

            Memories Stowed

In darkness I drive
Before daybreak squinting my eyes
Off to work mode
Down the dirt road I go

Down the dirt road I go
Yesterday's memories stowed
Weekend leave thoughts of work rusty
Mind lethargic and dusty

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
(16-333B)

Stuffed Monkey

                           Stuffed Monkey

Stuffed monkey perched in the window,
Holding the Engineering Scepter of Knowledge and Power.
The magical scepter that corrected logic problems,
When waved over the HMI.
Made of scraps, a golf ball with a dose of silicone.

Trinkets collected over time,
Accumulating after project completions.
Items with memories with co-workers who are deceased,
Treasures from twenty five years ago.
Tokens brought back to the office,
That brought laughs and moments of sanity.
One day they will be boxed up,
Sent to the dumpster as seasons change.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Work of Love

       Work of Love

Movement and motion,
Not some magic love potion,
Love works from the inside,
Creates action on the outside.

Mind races,
Body freezes,
Stop thinking,
Allow heart to lead.

Different than wild initial love,
All relationships tested,
Must move to new depths of intimacy,
Beyond just the physical.

Energy placed in motion,
Not internally devoured,
At core melt down love is proved,
Stay shallow and narrow,
Or go deep and wide.

Harness the energy,
Use energy to apply force over distance,
Work of love,
Commitment over time.
Humble and open,
Lead from love and not fear.

Systems of fear work death,
Systems of love work life.
Exchange systems that have failed and worked death,
For systems that brings life.
Hope requires movement today.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Hard Hat

                  Hard Hat

Hard hat sits on my desk,
  Paper work gets worse,
  Paranoia of security,
  Approvals required to do anything,
  By people who don't know what I do or have a clue,
  They don't know the industry,
  Just check this box that doesn't apply,
  Do you know how inept you sound,
  Compliance this and compliance that,
  Trying to have a conversation with words you jumble,
  Tying words together that huff, puff, and bluff nonsensical drivel,
    Perhaps I need to wear my hardhat,
      While at my desk to protect me from the piles of paper,
      That provides job security.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Barriers

                          Barriers

Each day a new barrier to get work done,
One more person demanding a change work no longer fun.
Bureaucrats who don't want confused with the facts,
Becomes a power trip for all their hacks.
Process not vetted by end-users so broken at the start,
See life of worker sink and lose heart.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.