Me no good at poetry so please bear with me. I had to write a poem for school about work and this is what I got. Rip it apart if you must. Also, any new suggestions on the title will be helpful.
~~~~~~
Every four days he would come home,
smiling or frowning.
Every four days when he came home,
he would always complain about work.
Always he complained about the foremen or the other drivers.
I recall him saying the graders were in terrible shape.
They were junk.
Yet, he managed to come home with hilarious stories
about what happened in the coalmine that day.
Between this and that I got confused.
I wasn’t sure if work was enjoyable or ghastly.
Maybe, just maybe it is his fault
I don’t like to work.
Work must not be fun at all.
Work must be a dreary job;
no chance of having fun or anything.
I don’t wish to be tied down by work
and come home complaining about it.
But I see many people who are happy in their job.
So I sit here wondering,
is it really his fault?
Thank-you both of you. This was an assignment I had to do with my observations or experiences with the work world. I couldn't think of a catchy title and so I just slapped something together. And failed 
I've already fixed it up a bit and will put the edited version on here soon. The speaker is me and the "he" I always referred to is my father *shrugs*
Thanks again!
Meadow
in bold are the references and minor additions, strikethroughs are omissions, comments are italicized-underlined
MeadowLark wrote:
~~~~~~
Every four days he would come home,
smiling or frowning. I'd say "smiling, frowning" I think it has better impact
Every four days [s]when[/s] he came home,
he would always complain about work.
Always, he complained <line break> about the foremen or the other drivers.
I recall him saying the graders were in terrible shape.
They were junk.
Yet, he managed to come home with hilarious stories
about what happened in the coalmine that day.
Between this and that, I got confused.
I wasn’t sure if work was enjoyable or ghastly.
Maybe, just maybe it is his fault was?
I don’t like to work.
Work must not be fun at all.
Work must be a dreary job;
no chance of having fun or anything.
I don’t wish to be tied down by work
and come home complaining about it.
But I see many people who are happy in their job.
So I sit here wondering,
is it really his fault?
I like this. It's like a snippet of an experience and I want to know more about the characters. Is the speaker a boy or a girl? Is the "he" the speaker's father? You've definitely written something that captures my attention.
To me, this piece reads like prose. There doesn't really seem to be a reason for why you put the line breaks where you did. If it were me, I would just write it as a paragraph or two and let it be. But to make it more poetic, I would suggest giving it a distinct rhythm. Maybe rewrite it in iambic pentameter?
Yet, he managed to come home with hilarious stories
I wasn’t sure if work was enjoyable or ghastly.
Maybe, just maybe it is his fault
that I don’t like to work.
Work must not be fun at all.
Work must be a dreary job;
no chance of having fun or anything.
I don’t wish to be tied down by work
and come home complaining about it.
But I see many people who are happy in their job.
So I sit here wondering,
is it really his fault?
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