"thankfulness" poems
There's a peculiar kind of beauty that can only be experienced
with the innate knowledge that the moment is fleeting
and the most intense beauty can only be seen in
the presence of both light and shadows.
For it’s often in the loss of a thing
that its worth to us becomes
most precious and by
letting it go with
grace we can
best savor
its purest
delights.
Realizing
that the pain
runs so deep only
because the beauty ran
so deep and that without
it having once touched us we
wouldn't now know the emptiness
of its loss, our grief will eventually turn to
thankfulness that it ever touched us at all, and
we will be left awed by the mystery of its haunting.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
Upon the dark night, striking three;
A tick representing each step in time,
but time overwhelmed by a trinity
of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams.
As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited
Another beauty upon the night, a tulip,
blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird.
The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings
A praise, a never ending thankfulness
"Thank You for the trees,
Thank You for the waves,
And thank You for me," the bird sings.
In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing;
Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring
when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three
But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes.
The songs of beauty the bird once sang
are silenced more than a whisper
Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders,
"Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?"
Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang,
but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower;
However, the sun rises, the flower realizes,
A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
Just like any other day.
Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three:
You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing,
for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking
Fly free, song bird,
Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time
As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Feelings, the treasure of ones heart,
A flame, cast ablaze by the purity of righteousness, warm alike sunlight, yet not as burning or uncomfortably hot if exposed too long,
As embracing, as a motherly tugging hug, full of love and dearness,
It feels so gentle, like a soft breeze, sweetly touching the blossoming petals, after a soft rain pours water over their delicate, little bodies,
So warm, as if enlightment were close to reach beyond the border of consciousness, growing strong and happy, alike a peach tree,
Celestial is what it tastes like, sweeping over my transience in awe,
It is but an emotion, which would soften a stone hard heart and make it alike cotton and wonderfully sweet as candy from amongst heaven,
Inner peace, served on a golden plate behind a courtain of sunlight, describing the greatest pleasure,your drink and thankfulness for what you have, without greed, the desire to have more, despising violence,
And even though humans will keep on living, such whilst being in a wretched, poor state, destined to fight on and hope for the better,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.
How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
*What are you thankful for?*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.
I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.
Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.
I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.
I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.
I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.
I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.
I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.
I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.
I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.
I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community
I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan
We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it
I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag
She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew
When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them
So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving
Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Poems come from our inner pain,
Bleeding out and down the drain,
Pulling readers into our woe,
Chilling hearts like falling snow.
I will rebel against this trend
And bring my whining to an end
By listing blessings yet untold
While I am well and growing old.
First, let me thank the Lord above
For giving wife and children that I love,
And then for parents, growing old
Who gave me principles to hold.
And then for friends for staying true
Across the years and distance, too.
For work I've always found rewarding
And health to work from early morning.
For homes I've run to, needing rest,
And roads to travel in the West,
And opportunities to fly the distant breeze:
Canada and China, West Coast and Belize.
For clothing and for food in easy reach,
For education and for students to teach,
For restful nights and active days,
For knowing where to send my praise....
Forgive me, Lord, ungrateful as I often am,
And thank you, Father, once again,
For grace and mercy, joy and peace
And time to thank you for life's lease.
Impossible for me to e'er repay,
My thankfulness goes up today.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
early daylight across my face sweeping,
gingerly ginger-yellow heated by the low-
risen sun, it confirms what my beating heart
yet signals, granted us, a new twenty and four,
but no more,
for certainty is not a human condition, so we cover
our eyes, not from the sun-rays, but in deference and
thankfulness and gratitude, that we have one more chance
to the world distribute, blessed human loving kindness, unique,
the greatest gift most excellent we human possess to give away freely!
Jewely 23, Twenty Twenty Three
8:30am
Jul 23, 2023
Jul 23, 2023 at 8:36 AM UTC
My child Before you were born
I use to eat peaches almost every single day
and now every eve of your birth I eat a peach
on August the 5th Peaches offer a little more friendship
than the cutesy little straight pink flower.
Bring warmth to your belly and the fruit feed more of your soul.
What I mean is I am your mother, the grateful and tender feeling one.
Your friend.
Even when it's my end.
On its own, the meaning of the fruit
in this quiet tone is at once gentler
and stronger in thankfulness.
Gentle is the true meaning of peaches.
Peach is the meaning of desire, my desire to see you succeed
and I know that your true love will too.
My child, I love you.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
Sometimes I tell myself that it's okay to feel this way,
that God gets tired too,
that sometimes He is the small child
slaving over a sewing machine
turning thread into warmth,
but not every sweater He makes
is made without a few loose strings,
or pockets sewn shut
or mismatched buttons.
My knees sink into the end of my bed
as I rest my elbows on my window sill.
I think as our hands face each other
and touch for the millionth time,
it's like a silent clap
that only the angels can here,
sometimes I apologize
to those resting in peace
for making their home sound more like
the ending of the movie
instead of the end of the book.
I greet God the same way
I greet your headstone.
I ask Him how He is,
why He only speaks in light,
and then I pretend to talk to Him,
when really I am talking to myself
or your headstone...again.
I say, "It's okay to feel this way.
I think it's okay to watch,
to write in depth about strangers,
I think it's okay to detach
yourself from the weight of existing.
Everyone around me built
themselves kingdoms,
they kept fire breathing dragons,
rolled out their drawbridges like red carpets
and I built myself a cardboard castle.
I built it on the highest hill
with a view of all of the kingdoms
and you know what?
I was alone,
but I had room to breathe
and sometimes that's all you can ask for;
an empty room with a closed door
and open window.
I said grace at dinner earlier,
but I said it out of tradition,
not out of genuine thankfulness.
So, thank you for the empty room
with the closed door and open window,
I know you're tired,
I hope you can respond when you get a chance."
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you doe?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to wooe;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?
Each petty beauty can disdain, and I,
Spight of your hate,
Without your leave can see, and dye,
Dispence a nobler Fate,
Tis easie to destroy, you may create.
Then give me leave to love, and love me too
Not with designe
To rayse, as Loves curst Rebels doe,
When puling Poets whine,
Fame to their beauty, from their blubbr’d eyn.
Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear
Your beauties rayes;
Joyes are pure streames, your eyes appear
Sullen in sadder layes,
In cheerfull numbers they shine bright with prayse.
Which shall not mention, to express you fayr,
Wounds, flames, and darts,
Storms in your brow, nets in your hair,
Suborning all your parts,
Or to betray, or torture captive hearts.
I’le make your eyes like morning Suns appear,
As mild, and fair;
Your brow as Crystal smooth, and clear,
And your dishevell’d hayr
Shall flow like a calm Region of the Ayr.
Rich Nature’s store, (which is the Poet’s Treasure)
I’le spend, to dress
Your beauties, if your mine of Pleasure
In equall thankfulness
You but unlock, so we each other bless.
2.9k
Remember the visions
the ones without clouds breaking
Echoing thankfulness for uninvited shimmers
to the surrendering sun.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
To Mercy Pity Peace and Love.
All pray in their distress:
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is God our Father dear:
And Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is Man his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart
Pity, a human face:
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine
Love Mercy Pity Peace,
And all must love the human form.
In heathen, Turk or jew,
Where Mercy, Love and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
2.6k
alles het verander
my hart klop
soos 'n arend
wat hoog oor
die see hang
haar vlerke uitgestrek
haar oog op haar prooi
elke dag met
dankbaarheid
vir alles wat
die lewe omtrek
everything has changed
my heart beats
like an eagle
that hangs high
over the sea
her wings outstretched
her eye on her prey
everyday with
thankfulness
for everything
that encircles life
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 5:08 PM UTC
In Your name, there is healing
Cities with an epidemic illnesses
Stands like the Mt. Horeb
Mighty in posture forever
As Your stretch stretch Your hands
Leprosy’s from every nation cast down
Desperate heart finds, its home
In the green pasture besides the still water
The night will be as it is
But the morning bring great deliverance
At some point of, there will be songs
Of thankfulness from the inside
Your love for us never fails and cease
Springs of water flows like fountain
From Your grace to my place
Im once frail and sick but im release
Far from the medicine and gurney
Your faithfulness in my life
Brings tremendous miracles in many ways
I just I just declare it in faith and love
I say to the world You are Healer
A great Physician of the Father
I experience it right now, the touch
Tomorrow will be a testimony like no other
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 7:37 PM UTC
Desperate hands,
Trembled,
Typing on a dying phone,
Fearful breaths,
Trembled,
As I tried to go one step further than before,
My kindness,
Trembled,
As friend after friend wouldn't tell me,
How to use the blade that,
Trembled,
And glistened with shattered tears,
My heart,
Trembled,
As even the one who loves me refused to let me bleed,
Saying that if I,
Trembled,
And hurt myself so would she,
My anger,
Trembled,
And faded as I realised what I was doing,
I felt only:
Regret, fear, love and thankfulness,
For a lump of plastic and gold in my hands that gave me the chance to find hope.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
my hidden shames
are an excellent source of moral fibre,
nurturing, but not nutritious.
we coexist in a quiet
mutual acknowledgment,
coexisting but un-categorizable,
nonetheless,
among my oldest cohorts,
their singular coordinated characteristic,
they are mine alone,
not meant to be shared.
But they will someday
make an excellent poem.
Mon jan 2 2023
6:47am
@here
———————————————————-
the askew
are my oldest companion,
dating back to my naissance,
faithful, eternal, but single-minded,
with a rueful sense of humor,
of course,
refer to my relatively plentiful hairs
inherited from my mother’ genetics.
a morning chore,
to return their antics
to an adult,
dignified pose,
plenty sufficient to be be brushed,
straight back,
the preferred orderly compose,
of older men
who cannot waste time
with foolishness,
the excessive vanities of
curls, parts and pompadours,
and yet,
every day they wake me with
ridicule, mockery, by presenting
themselves.to me,
as if electrocuted,
each
hair raising itself
pointing to the heaven,
whence
their true Creator resides.
no amount of product
persuasive,
they do what they must do,
akimbo, askew,
with inordinate amount of
malice aforethought and
a venomous sense of
hairy (and now hoary)
absurdity .
a splash of water,
a handful of rigorous brush strokes,
returns order
and the pretense of a serious mien,
an adult demeanor.
But their purpose accomplished,
they have reminded me of the
absurdity of human vanity,
to humble myself
before forces
more powerful
than human self-aggrandizement
by accentuating
our human foibles.
7:13am
same time & place
——————————————-
morning prayers are
always
a trilogy
the rounded evenness of three,
provides the necessary gravitas
of sufficiency,
three being
not too short,
not too long,
not too quick,
just three right,
to impart
the seriousness
of gratitude
for having gained
another day upon earth,
with it,
many multitudes of
chances to share
thankfulness,
kindness,
yes,
& love too,
and to write,
one more poem
encapsulating
all of the above.
7:35am
same day
same place,
same cup of coffee
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 9:17 AM UTC
the farmers, hard, winter toughened
Minnesota plains, quiet men
have been spreading manure
the wet fields sink the
green or yellow tractor
wheels into the muck
that the melted snow
has given to us once again,
stuck almost above the rims
(maybe that is why they paint
them such a bright yellow)
but these men press on
as though maybe denial, hard
work and quiet lives could let
them, too, walk on water
against this last assault
of winter, these men
work to renew the life
of the fields with compost
every spring, like tulips
pressing up through the
frozen slush, reaching for
the promise of warmer days,
too early, once more, asking,
has this gift been received
with thankfulness?
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 10:49 AM UTC
In my head,
For a year,
I dreamt your name
Would flash on my phone.
A token of remembrance
And familiar resemblance.
But never did I know
That at a festival,
This year,
I'd get that token
That broke the silence.
Through deafening bass
And a crowded place,
Our conversation felt timeless.
Gold dust,
And rainbow stripes
Were what you wore,
Still how I remember.
Whole bodies moving,
My eyes approving
Like that first night in November.
Over the noise,
We had to shout
And get up so close
I could smell your cheek.
Half-heard sentences,
Apologetic messages,
We'd been too weak
To say before,
That night,
In Spring,
Where we cut off abruptly.
But all the pain went,
Along with those countless nights spent
Trying to pick up the debris.
My friend,
Your partner,
He'd gone
A day early.
So we spent the night together,
Ignoring the cold weather
Till tiredness made eyes blurry.
My friends
And I
Walked you back
To your yurt.
Made new favourite memories,
And an excess of remedy
To stay the hurt.
I thought a year was too late.
But instead a half blank slate
Is all I ever wanted. Now I can give
My gratitude,
And thankfulness.
That I always had,
Deep inside.
To bridges rebuilt,
And no more guilt.
I no longer need to hide
From you,
From me,
From the scars.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
I pray to God: make me new, make me clean,
Show me what this life could possibly mean.
I pray please fill my holes, make me whole,
Revive every weakness in my soul.
I pray clear my stage, shine the lights upon your glory,
Write my script, and guide me through my story.
I pray for the courage to put the pen in your hand,
To design my present fitting the future you planned.
I pray to practice thankfulness and to be more aware,
To seek your tiny treasures even when life isn't fair.
I pray for patience during this long waiting season,
So in every little thing I'll find meaning and reason.
I pray for the determination and control to stick to your path,
If I stray, I know you'll cleanse me in a grace-filled bath.
I pray for peace when things in life do not go as I hope,
You'll pick my heart up when my mind wants to mope.
I pray for the burning passion to strive for your perfection,
Having my eyes on you to point me in the right direction.
I pray for your comfort during rejection and pain,
Knowing your loss was our eternal gain.
I pray for the love I'll share with my family and friends,
For your amazing love has no boundaries nor ends.
I pray to share your friendship each and every day,
In time sharing your truths in your own special way.
I pray to be renewed and to be as clean as white snow,
So when seeking your love, through me people will know.
I pray thanksgiving for your mercy and grace so divine,
It fuels my fire to the world, letting my little light shine.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace
'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"
A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.
** The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.
Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.
O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.
'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!
Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!
(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)
-A
8/11/14
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
The poisonous attitude
that the world
owes
me
Entitlement.
The very best
antidote
for this
is
Thankfulness.
A grateful attitude
for what
I
already
have.
Cj 2016
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
from here you can see the ocean
a distant dulled blue mesa
standing still, yet running
an offshore marine layer clouds the horizon
dark gray cumulus with fluffy white tops
mimic snow capped mountains
clean bright sunshine illuminates the earth
a cheerful contrast to yesterday's rain and gloom
the city is alive with light
as morning fills the room
awakening my mind
with expanding consiousness
a feeling that I AM
gratitude and thankfulness abound
rising emotions remind me
thoughts become spoken words
"I love life"
"I love myself"
"God, I love myself"
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
Woke up early
5:35
The sun not up
The birds asleep
Lingering nightmares
Cold horror hands
Gripping my head
Clenching my thoughts
They slip away
Weakening with the sun rising
It's a new day
A day looked forward to
Rushed breakfast
Fear I'm late
Fast shower
Packing decorations
Makeup painting
Hair brushing
Leaving the house
9:20
Picking up friends
Mom dropping us off
Greeting more people
Taking pictures
Together
All smiles
And laughter
Being with my friends
Driving around
To visit lonely people
The first woman
An invalid
Talking
Laughing
Joy
Smiles
We leave
Then lunch
Under the trees
Sandwiches
Delicious
Sun
On our way to another
Getting lost
Stupid GPS
Laughing
Joking
Talking
Sharing stories
Waiting for directions
Arriving
For a lonely woman
Who's husband of 66 years
Recently died
Depression
But happiness in us
Helping out
Planting
Weeding
Tending her flowers
Who keep her company
Thankfulness and appreciation
Cookies and water for love.
We must go
And go back to our group
We decorate tables
Themed ours
"Gifts from the Sea"
"Mermaid Dream"
Pearls and paper flowers
All blue and white
Shells and jars of sand
Clear glass pebbles
Blue table cloth
Beauty
Next is cooking
We each have our jobs
I make cookies
Ginger chocolate chip
The batter is good
Then help with the pizzas.
Chilling out for an hour
Talking and hanging
Waiting for our food
Time to eat
We approach the tables
8 different pizzas
All made by hand
By us
A salad bar as well
Sweet tea
We eat
Afterwards each team speaks
Team #3 speaks of cleaning
We Team #2 share our adventures
Team #1 share a play and experiences
In babysitting children
Speeches are made
A plaque presented
Tears of surprise
Cookies are brought out
The cookies I made
They are delicious
Games are then played
I win one
Then it's time to say goodbye
To all my one week friends
Late at night
11 pm
I sit and think
Of all that happened
And smile in memory
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Every time they kissed she could see
a spark of light in his beautiful blue eyes
a light filled with passion and love
or sometimes filled to the brim with utter gentleness
when he held her safe against his chest
Those wonderfully captivating blue eyes
could also hold troubled images
his sad blue eyes would shimmer with tears
a desperate, sorrowful shine, coating
his beautiful blue eyes
When he held her hand
his eyes spoke of a story of pure gratitude
a thankfulness for this love and
her tiny hands entwined in his
a sparkle of tenderness in
his beautiful blue eyes
As they talked for hours over the phone
His laughter rang loud and clear
like church bells swaying in the wind
and his voice soothing her into a blissful peace
a rich tone which she held so dear to her heart
especially when his voice would sing a magnificent song
she could just imagine his
beautiful blue eyes
reflecting his smile
in a twinkle of joy
His beautiful blue eyes have since turned cold to her
those eyes once for her,
were now not at all
The love they shone
and the sadness they held
even the dark secrets they hid
would never be hers again
Oh beautiful blue eyes.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC