Labor Wave

Labor Wave


(Translated from I∧∩vou  using

Feminine and building constraint)

By Allan Hill


Love it was, in a word,

Like my young love’s, lush garden,

Like glistening pebbles blowing kisses,

To his shore.

Sweet labor.


Curious ripples hardened by youth,

Moist hot air, glistening,

Down the long shore,

Waves after wave building,

Into the smelting ocean,

Pebble by pebble to his Moun,

Sweet labor,


Falcon gape, screaming

Massive talons,

Locking their mark,

Beating young hearts,

His falcon aim,

The coolness of the accepting ocean,

Does not suffer fools, not prepared,

Suffer the oar,

Building its muster.

Deliriously abandoned,

Wave after wave,

Heaven and Earth, toppling,

Trickling into the concealed fire,

My oceanic heath,

Glistening drops of sea salt,

Down his shore,

Sweet labor,

. . . ummm


Fading . . .



About batai52

Brother, father, photographer, filmmaker, writer, artist, veteran, Iroquois/Scottish, aquarian and lover of Martinis "so dry you have to blow the dust off." There are many I admire: Maya Angelou, Ezra Pound, Morris Dees, Cornel West and Alan Alda (Hawkeye Pierce M*SH) for his art and activism. A true activist. Me? Just a ripple on a wave, a feminist in training (FIT) ;-) and working on my own human condition. Onward . . . . .
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