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I eat red meat an 'yardbird'
I've been known to waylay -
a bottle of good scotch
Chattanooga Chew tickles my
fancy , doctored brownies -
are just Jim Dandy
I'm all for a ******* Barrel rocker
A Martin guitar , an American car
Whitman and Sandburg , Pink -
Floyd an Hendrix
Red wire grass  , quiet country
ponds and evening bullfrogs* ...
Copyright November 21 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Happy Thanksgiving
    
Hollow words
thrown out like confetti
to land where they will
on the well manicured lawns
of the houses of plenty
and the cardboard beds
of the hopeless homeless

Happy Thanksgiving

Words as flint to
Spark the tinder
that flares into flame
that warms some and
chills others who are
celebrating things
that no one
woud be thankful for

Happy Thanksgiving

To those with little
to be thankful for
except the lack of dyeing
and a list of shiny promises
most already broken
with the pieces
scattered on the floor

Happy Thanksgiving

Greedy merchants
rub their hands
And hide the day
in bargain hunts
For things that
don’t bring joy
but just more need

Happy Thanksgiving

Living in a little corner
of the furor that is life
a tiny candle in the shadows
holding out the hand of hope
of kindness, even love
sharing what has been
stored up for use
this day and every day
to live the meaning
of the  word Thanksgiving.

ljm
My holiday is a little tarnished this year, but I'll salvage what I can and be grateful that I can do it.  HP is one of the things I'm most thankful for.  You all have given me the gift of acceptance and validation and I thank you one and all.  It's more valuable than gold.
  Nov 2017 Tammy M Darby
Colm
My heart is like a snow laden car
Freezing in the bitter cold

Left to stand in a parking lot semi-alone

Clearing my windows I depart
Most anxiously to feel the need

And yet as in each morning, each winter
When the days are dreary and quick to dark

There is a frost to be found all around

And so my hesitant in heart
Is to turn over and start

Warming only by this, the end of this drive

For my heart is like a snow laden car
Covered and only to be seen in part

When cleared away the beating heart
Is too warm too late and frozen still
Truthfully - This poem began as a thought, "my car is only warm by the end of my drive"
  Nov 2017 Tammy M Darby
Sally A Bayan
:::::::

Birthdays are over and done,
october skies have moved on,
and brought us late november winds
we close our eyes to our unwanted truths
but....when we wake up, they're still there
they're too lazy to scamper away from us

so, we paint our minds with positive  occurrences
regardless of how people and circumstances
burst our balloons,
and bring down our festoons
some people make our spirits soar
...they make our days less dour
we wish to spend time with them
we would do, give anything on any term
just to experience moments with them,
:::::
even just for a thanksgiving night,
:::::
forget for a while our collapsed goals
.............which have turned to debacles
for, their fruition have become impossible
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
in our hearts, these dreams hide.
...they live on in our mind,
until God knows when...
it makes me think,
"time is always behind me
like......a shadow, warning me.."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
so tonight,
after stuffed turkey, cranberry sauce and wine
and veggies, and coffee and apple pie,
i'd go out for a while, wear a thick sweater
and find the moon
full or crescent, it won't matter
if it doesn't show up...the stars would be there
i'll sing my song.....and start my dance
til i can no longer put up with the cold
and i will have to seek warmth inside.

Sally

Copyright November 23, 2017
rrab
Wrote this while listening to
Van Morrison's MOONDANCE.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2017
In my dream the fool was sitting in an empty room
Emotions rattling in his pocket now painted with gold
Nothing but the sound of the clock hands fall
The air thick with deeds past done
Smiling, paranoia has come to call

You should have heeded the children's tales from long ago
Of King Midas and his shining mountain of gold
The cruel Grinch and the wrinkled greedy old Scrooge
By himself alone he sits
The fool in an empty room

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Nov. 22, 2017.
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