Like a morning after
But with a new born now in tow
The euphoria of birth’s endorphins
Not yet downed by postpartum blues.
Forget the labor unions
And their favored status this holiday
This is really a national holiday
About women, and what they are best at
And indispensable for
Children!
Mother’s Day is great of course
As a Hallmark celebration
But Labor Day is equally about mothers
But because of what mothers
Are actually mothers of
Children!
Happy post Labor Day everyone
Because we are all someone’s child.
(9/8/26)
IN WAGES OF LOVE
In labors of love,
Never a day without work;
God’s wages rising:-
Panic’s funny if it’s explained in rhyme.
I’m at a brite, swank, corporate event
summarized by its unexceptional
atmosphere - so I put on my watch face
- hanging back, an observer in the pack.
Fitting in is emotional labor
I couldn’t be more chilled - there’s a ‘work’ me,
who knew? Like a LinkedIn survival skill.
It must be a very recessive gene.
Adulthood happens without my consent,
like old iTunes agreements no one read.
Sooner or later we must all face the
unsparing proposition of working
- the need beneath it is adult and real.
Not money, in my case, something bigger,
something I must approach indirectly.
The wheel of life may spin quite wildly, but
ultimately, it lands on consequence
.
.
A song for this
kid by everything but the girl
kid by the pretenders
So much to do, so little time
So little to do, so much time
So Life unfolds in phases all its own
A life’s work made whole by halves
A woman’s may never be done
While a man’s may have yet to begun.
(7/4/26)
Tubal Uriah "Buzz" Butler fought for workers labored in the oil
to highlight the right of safety while in the night they quietly toil
Trinidad and Tobago celebrates his legacy with a public holiday
for his bravery and patriotic journey having paved the way
Every year the labor movements unite and march the street
that the ruling party will understand what demands they must meet
For the brave workers who lost their lives to have them recognized
the day is celebrated with everyone whom are all unionized
May we all be blessed to remember:
raising children is akin to planting trees.
With much depending our our patience,
our love
and our humility…
Because as we give them our time
nurturing them
offering them our love
our food
our water…
our sun…
It is only years later
as we sit under their shade
when we realize
what a good job we have done
I am not oblivious.
To what's obvious.
No more will I voice.
Even when given a choice.
Don't ask me to analyze.
When you've already scrutinized.
I tried with creditabilty.
Indeed, what will it cost me?
Silence is my best defense.
Mind over matter resilience.
I will labor and carry on.
Even if the right becomes wrong.
My times are in His hands.
Even if I don't understand.
The load bearing capacity
Load bearing consistency
It lack such but provides
the artist the ability to create
It's need for insulation
He stood before with
Such a grin
The conversation would be
needed to talk in a standized
Way.
Grams into ounces
Kilos into pounds
Liters into cups
They stood there smiling
Like gold miners we
Struggle with the same
Math.
Might these conversations
Make the fear of gypsum
Block making easier or
easiest that we fear not
that thou are with us
To speak these manga stations true.
That those who wish us parted
May frown in the fact that have
been undermined in a reversed fashion
Might they then speak us as
Lord and Laird, yet we pray
Yet we pray!
A baas boy longing for his family uses the Morning Star as a point of reference and a guide for hope.
A Star/Steer poem
The distant star my guiding light shines down
on fields of labor hard and long.
A thousand miles from where my love is sown
I trace its beam and hum a silent song.
It knows the path my weary feet steer back
to the faces I hold so dear.
Does the same star watch over them tonight?
My wife,my children dreaming in the dark.
I pray it keeps them safe till morning light
and leaves upon their hearts a gentle mark.
I promise I'll journey home once more,
Sit with them on our humble floor.
We were not so poor
To be ungrateful
For what we lacked.
Full plates in a heated house
Made it seem undue to complain
For lack of poetry or a candy cane.
Ne’er a penny in a bush
Nor gift under the tree was for us
With corn, milk and eggs a plenty.
We dared not wish for more.
Each night we knelt in thanks
Before dreaming of a hotdog,
Birthday cake, Christmas
Gift, or a dime to buy
An ice cream cone.
The weeds we kept at bay
The trees chopped expertly
Our toil stayed the rest.
We were not so poor
To be unthankful
For what we lacked
As we hoed the corn
Milked the cows
Feed the chickens.
Starved of play we were
too busy making hay
To be ungrateful.
Dawn’s creep arrives unnoticed,
camouflaged by dense fog.
Stressed trees,
shed leaves prematurely on this Labor Day,
and in the driveway, I hear Doves enjoying,
their menu for today.
A holiday breakfast of smashed Acorns,
courtesy of our car tires.
This breakfast is served up annualy
by an Oak Tree I planted fifty + years ago.
Forecast is for scattered showers,
but it won’t matter, no cookout planned.
I’ll do what I’m doing and sip cooling coffee
from my favorite “published poet” mug.
It won’t be Myleopathy,
C.K.D., C.H.D that kills me,
It will be all this excitement!!!
Jesus Loves Us!
Please don't do unto me,
Cuz we don't see eye to eye%
As far as I can see,
Our Democracy's a tie!
Like you, I love the "Free,"
But, what's a fella to do?
Cuz, you are just like ME,
And, I am just like YOU!
You can search town to town,
Just the flip-side of a coin.
Cuz, when the chips are down,
Then the working class gets goin'......©©©÷©©©
^ ^
Citizens...Choosing...Country
Happy Labor Day America!
Evermore under the moon’s peaceable
beaming,
are the dreams of the day’s laborers ~
For the forty 3rd attempt
Of incline
A forty 3rd question unanswered
Los Angeles requires an accomplishment
As yet the roofs of wealth choir no challenge
Stilled in self wonder the share constants
Water and health in abundance, again
This execution remembers every faculty
Partners and sermons
Cost and boss
The build of document to spend
Little shadows of Washington fend
The framers of a Los Angeles hard at work
During war time
Without end
Preparing the give
Ready for another attack
That steal refuses its sound
Prefer of the city and cities charity
Suggest of intonation
None strate to the cause
America in Los Angeles only lensing past tense
Encampments of abandon
In a day of labor, no notes
No reservation
No surplus
IN GOD’S OCCUPATION
In all God’s seasons,
Labors of love are engaged:
Thus, be who you are.
You have been chosen by God,
To be the TEACHER'S teacher:-
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