Labor Day is a holiday in the United States, set aside to honor the dignity of labor. It also is the traditional end of summer in the U.S., albeit meteorologists and astronomers might not agree. Write a poem about work. It might be about a certain kind of work, or the avoidance thereof. It might be about a profession, from the world’s oldest to those not thought of yet. It might honor real laborers or legendary ones. Or, it might be about the idea of work itself.


Little Sophie’s Newest Fascination

She gets out her toolkit –
Complete with pliers, wrench,
Screwdrivers, hammers,
Paintbrush, and bubble gum.

Bubble gum?
Staple gun actually, but hey,
Whatever works. 😉

© copyright Marie Elena Good, 2013



Mighty Melvin Geldinfeld,
the pride of academia,
had a spare physique that spelled
a pimple with anemia.

He wheezed and sneezed and coughed a lot,
harrumphed with halitosis;
although a man, he seemed a tot
who had a bad prognosis.

But Melvin knew most every fact;
knew Oz from Osawatomie;
he knew why quarks and Quakers quacked
and even knew phlebotomy.

He taught at Harvard and at Yale;
at Oxford was in residence;
for kicks he brewed an English ale
and served it to French presidents.

He got a sense of deep euphoria
designing ladies’ panties;
he passed the secret to Victoria
so she could sell more scanties.

In life he was a Renaissance,
and death has not dispelled
the all-pervading ambience
of mighty Melvin Geldinfeld.

© copyright 2013, William Preston