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The bird is thankful
For each new day
To fly away.
Again .
To new hights.

Gratitude for the new day
Every day you learn something new
I am thankful for the things I have lost.
They have taught me how to love my blessings and all I’ve become.
I needed to lose things, both good and bad,
to become everything that I am.

Though there are so many things I regret,
I am thankful to the ones that have left.
To lose all I have would be my death.
Once upon a time
Things were funny as Hell,
Life was worth living
And everyone had a place in this magical story
Of witches and Princes, princesess and ghosts,
Kings and queens and everybody else.

Soul users
Served some frog legs,
Delicacy today,
The witch is feeding her owls,
Keeping safe a few.
She's watching from her broom-flight
For souls she needs to use?
If they're Alright or not
She cares not.not _ not caring for it a lot
More than you thought.

Oh, well, a lie or two
Won't harm anyone!
Truth:... She speaks with a heart of true!

The witch selects her targets,
What she needs is what she seeks,
What she wants is what she cares for.

I want only my peace,
Even if louder than you May think!
But what to do? What to do?
May God help you too!
S Dec 2020
I burned my hand making Christmas cookies
for my small chosen family-
hoping that it is enough to thank them
for keeping me from falling headfirst
and loosing myself to my own mind.
Arabella B Oct 2020
A place where it doesn't matter who I am
What words I put on the paper
How I feel or what I mean
Whether it be hidden or clear
I don't have to rhyme
Follow a strict set of rules
A place where I can get all my feelings out
It is like a yellow flower in the middle of a field of cotton plants
Unique in its own way
The only one of its kind
I don't have to worry about anything being right
because no matter what I write it right to me

It is a freeing art
An art where my tears can form words
and the sorrow and grief I am feeling can paint a picture to the reader
It can produce warmth like a fire on a winter's day
The delicate lace that shrouds my heart
when I am feeling most down
lets me to freely write how I am feeling without
the thought of another
It is one art that no matter what
Practice can never make perfect
It is something that is different to everyone
No matter how much one can try
There is no box to conform to

Stumbling upon this art years ago
I look back and smile
Thanking past me
for walking into that meeting
Seeing the faces around that table and taking a timid step forward
That little, timid, shy step is what unlocked this great art
In my life and for that I am thankful
For my Introduction to Literature class we were asked to write our Ars Poetica and this is how I view Poetry.
Sungmoo Bae Aug 2020
The pleasure is all mine

when I see a nickel on the sidewalk
while on my way to the bus-stop

and when I,
the fast traveller,
see a piece of weathered poster
whirled up in the wind

and then laid there
on the roadside forgotten,
yet still retaining
its hue vivid

—the colors are still lively at the least,
    My heart grows into full vivacity
    when I see such serendipity so small,

glowing in brilliance yet so lucid,
in a manner ever graceful
—no matter how tiny that is—    
from the bottom of my heart
    —I'm being accepted
    into thy blissfulness, which may hold
    the wonders of the world
    ever imaginable.
(C) Copyright: Saul Bae (Sungmoo Bae)
mjad Aug 2020
If he held me again today
I'd collapse into his being
In anger and regret
And thankfulness
Otherwise there'd be no change
He was once all of my heart and mind
Not only occupying my thoughts
Fogging them
I did not think of me
I thought of us
A fragile concept
One of the past

If he held me again today
It would be the last
laura May 2020
Today is a day
to be thankful
for everything our
mother's have done
for us. I know I
could have never gotten
through my life without
my mom.
Happy Mother's Day!
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
by Michael R. Burch

If only we were not so eloquent,
we might sing, and only sing, not to impress,
but only to enjoy, to be enjoyed.

We might inundate the earth with thankfulness
for light, although it dies, and make a song
of night descending on the earth like bliss,

with other lights beyond—not to be known—
but only to be welcomed and enjoyed,
before all worlds and stars are overthrown ...

as a lover’s hands embrace a sleeping face
and find it beautiful for emptiness
of all but joy. There is no thought to love

but love itself. How senseless to redress,
in darkness, such becoming nakedness . . .

Originally published by Clementine Unbound

Keywords/Tags: caveat, eloquent, eloquence, sing, enjoy, enjoyment, inundate, earth, thankfulness, praise, song, light, welcomed, enjoyed, enjoyment, bliss, joy, love

Caveat Spender
by Michael R. Burch

It’s better not to speculate
"continually" on who is great.
Though relentless awe’s
a Célèbre Cause,
please reserve some time for the contemplation
of the perils of EXAGGERATION.

Stephen Spender in his best-known poem wrote: "I think continually of those who were truly great." This near-limerick suggests that Spender may have exaggerated the time he devoted to hero worship. Keywords/Tags: caveat, spender, truly, great, think, continually, hero, worship, exaggeration, contemplation, awe, fawn, fawning
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