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Effy Royle Nov 2015
oh what have you done to deserve this?
so much hate in your heart for yourself
yet you were living a lie
I hope you're happy now

sweet child, what a pity that people can't help
but leave you
how many tears did you shed when he said
he didn't love you back?
I hope you find peace within yourself

I'm sorry he doesn't see you're the one
you're both stuck in this never ending
paradox where no one wins
don't change yourself just to please
the unpleasable
I hope you're whole again one day

you poor, tired soul. take a seat and look in the mirror for a change.
you are nothing if not beautiful.
please be kind to yourself
I hope you find happiness one day

oh what a warrior you are. wartorn land and heart.
you're much more than your mistakes.
take a look at everyone around you.
I hope you realize you're not alone

my honey bear, my sweetie pie
your hands still shake when they call your name.
stop pretending you're okay.
there's nothing to be afraid of
I hope one day you find clarity

you beautiful creature, how many times has someone failed to compliment you?
that number is in the negatives now and you're still on your high horse
get off for a second and ground yourself. it's only a matter of time.
I hope you forgive and forget

my light, my dark, my everything in between
stop and smell the roses
can't you hear them singing for you?
your eyes always did make my heart stop
I hope you forget why you're hurting

baby bear cub, you sweet little thing
how many days have you been at sea? enough to not love them back
just remember where you came from
I hope your dreams come true

my one true love affair, you're mighty small for someone who loves to talk
your nose freckles never seemed so prominent
I love your laugh, I love your cry
I hope you realize what you've done to me

my life and my wannabe lover, you're drowning in regret
I can smell the whiskey on your breath
yet you're too drunk to see straight
I hope you remember who you are

my soulmate and best friend
I know you're still hurting
but open up for a change and let them know the real you
you can't sweep it under the rug forever
I hope you can be yourself
snarkysparkles Nov 2015
I had thanksgiving with my St. Lucian family, my
loud, unapologetic,
laughs-too-loud, generation-gap
homemade ***, heads in phones,
blasting dancehall music
old ladies dancing
"Play us a song",
my cousin and I sent to my room to play jazz chords, I
finger along clumsily. He's in college and his dark eyes close, fingers
sliding up and down the frets,
frowning in concentration, cursing quietly at a missed note.
My islander family comes over and prompts impromptu drinking games,
"I'm not looking, I saw nothing",
I lick a bit of vanilla ***** from my mother's shot glass,
alcohol becomes a family affair, it
takes away the danger and the stigma and throws a friendly, lovely
light on a vice.
It's raining, it's cold,
islanders do not belong on a Kansas porch smoking cigarettes in the dark rain.
I light candles on the wall.
They all outlast their welcome, between four and a half hours of transition
from uncomfortable "i don't remember your name", put on the spot,
only-child-becomes-one-of-several to
discussing baby names and family gossip, they
all wrap up their food slaved over at nine am, they
all troop out the door, they
take their coats, they
leave their wide smiles with us until next time.
#family #thanksgiving #islanders #love #warm
Robert Ronnow Nov 2017
What luxury to get mad
about last night's basketball loss
and watch the full moon descending
at the speed the earth turns.

Things could get worse
personally and for the community.
Bombings, killings, anomie
boiling frogs and witches cursing.

The changing climate,
typhoons in the Philippines,
volcanoes and tsunamis, WWII which I missed,
Thanksgiving nor'easter, Easter twister.

What abundance to fast or feast,
your choice, stay inside by the stove
or go outside, climb the mountainside.
Live in a city or small town.

So I raged at the coaches
for their lazy zone defense
like an alien in the bleachers
unable to affect the outcome.

When my sons came home
I yelled at them too. What opulence
to be angry about nothing of consequence
neither stopped by the cops nor slipped on the ice.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2014
another Thanksgiving,
another voyage in the rareified
l'air au-dessus,
the air above,
next to, amidst
the satisfying but untouchable still,
the gray-white of the clouds of which we so oft
exclaim, and always fail,
to do justice by

this time the
compulsion beating
compels this thanksgiving addition
to the compilation of airplane poems

the pointer finger tapping
out this journey's record,
a priori, gold leafed,
added, inscribed,
on the priory wall
of other journeys,
even before
it was conceptually written

the pointer finger tapping
upon your own chest,
calming the beating turbulence
ever present, a giving present
to me,
red wrapped

no whining!

I promise myself,
to promise you,
cause if this be,
the best poem
I ever write
(why not, could it not be this one?)

a small prayer shawl supplication,
shall not be marred,
with plaints and requests,
visions and incisions,
the beseeching distaste of
be and re quests,
this one simple,
even, and as always,
a tad odd like me

I am just an ordinary Joe,
flying over the middle,
the country, the real one,
no megabytes
amidst the real,
a few hundred other supplicants,
gaily glad on a mostly
head-phoned, protected silent passage,
over water, land, rivers, and family clans,
all engaged and presaged by
calendal X marked to make ,
a Mecca trip,
a Jerusalem western walled, holy mount,
which ironically is for me is
direction relative,
that bastion of flesh and sinners,
the city of tan men
and salt pillared women,
the City of Miami

whoa, real turbulence
makes the typos egregious, plentiful,
and the body sways,
left to rightly,
the poem is compulsed
urgent flown to completion
(amazing the shaking and the stirring,
to the point of locating the airbag)
perhaps, he thinks, someone in this
airy residence doe not want this prayer


"The Prayer~Poem of Seat 25D"

Dear Deity of Whatever Name:

We humans peculiar to some places,
set aside a day, this week
for being superlative,
for looking inward and do
quiet summary addition,
employing organs,
as many as necessary,
noses and toeses external,
organs invisible internal,
a counting to make,
to number what we are,
isolating the better reasons,
why our existence justified

we do it in
foolish human ways,
as is our nature,
human and fools interchangeably
one and the same

So this one man counts
his words, ever careful,
ever plentiful,
and utters grace,
the Bene and the Blessing,
quiet inside,
his fellow airplane passengers
holy unawares,
that he is praying for them
simply saying this

May each one pause,
even for a second,
and collect the moment,
that thankful is a
but half a notion,
incomplete unless
it is given
away to another,
by making it
in the air over the Georgia/Florida border
Seat 25c
Sally A Bayan Dec 2014
(Never too late)

for having my family
they are safe and healthy
we have roof over our heads and
clothes to keep us warm
there is always food on our table...

on each new day,  i am able to
get up, alone...without much effort
can wash my face, brush my teeth,
clean my bathroom regularly
take a shower on my own
cook what i want to eat,
eat alone...
change the curtains in my bedroom
change my bedsheets without help,
as often as i want to...

still celebrated another birthday
was able to say THANK YOU!
with family and friends on Thanksgiving day
made scary decors for Halloween
decked our house with a tree and lanterns before December
hang stars, angels in corners and in between 
am strong enough to put them all away when Christmas is over...

how a night of fireworks and celebrations
easily segues into a day of new beginnings...

write, share my thoughts, my moments,
look back to the past with a smile,
find contentment where i am now,
still look forward to my future,
wake up to each new day
and another.......and 
A N O T H E R .

Thanksgiving must come with every breath
For we are showered with Blessings without end...


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

A post that is better late than never....
Classy J Oct 2014
When your family isn't their for you, when you can't afford a thanksgiving meal, we are here for you in your time of need. Orphan's thanksgiving that's what we do, when people in your family don't get along you can come here instead. A place with less stress, good memories, and a fun time. We are your friends, we are your neighbors, we are family. When you don't think their is anything to be thankful for we can be that for you.
Izzy Jul 2017
First Minutes
The discovery sinks in as we spring into action
Adrenaline kicks in, heart pounding, blood rushing.
My mind confusedly putting pieces together.
First Few Hours
Calls are made to paramedics and cops and investigators swarm our house.
Our car goes faster than what is safe as we follow the ambulance as it carried what we would later learn was only her body and a few dedicated paramedics.
A time of death is announced and more tearful calls are made, this time to family and later to friends.
We leave hours later surrounded by a mournful silence.
First Day
We sat on the on the couch in a shocked silence, which was only broken by my calls to her friends, the ringing of the house phone and doorbell.
First Week
The silence was deafening and I had to escape.
So I returned to school after making arrangements with my family for the cremation and shedding my own tears for the first time. I caught the last two classes of the day and began burying myself in my classwork after telling those who needed to know.
First Month
Our own questions were behind every turn as we handled finances, possessions, settling things and celebrating her short life.  
I began to tell more and more of my friends.
Second Month
The pain was still fresh and stinging,
My mother returned to work for the first time.
Third Month
I held back my tears in English.
The play we read reminding me of her and running lines with her the previous year.
Fourth Month
I let it get to me while locked in my room, wishing it was my boyfriend's arms around me instead of my paint-stained jacket as I painted the canvas as black as I was feeling.
Recording my tears for him and watching how he hid his own watery eyes the next day in class as I honored our promise.
Her birthday passed and my mother planted flowers.
Fifth Month
After an uneventful spring break, my dad began staying home from work, unable to handle the weight of his thoughts.
Sixth Month
School ended and summer began and for the first time in what was now fourteen years, I didn't have a sister. I was alone.
Seventh Month
Slowly but surely the pain faded, with the help of scattered therapists, counselors, and mountains of support from family and friends. Summer traditions continued but were never the same.
Eighth Month
The weight of her absence doesn’t rest on my shoulders as heavy anymore.
Ink stains me with her memory. The pain I felt, saw and personified over many pages as we still face it.
My father has returned to work as we each learn to deal with the missing piece of our family in our own ways.
Ninth Month
School begins.
It's my junior year and school is starting for the first time since 3rd grade without my sister. My mother would always take a "first-day" picture, the tradition faded when we attended different schools. Maybe it wasn't so annoying after all.
Tenth Month
It's October, my, our, favorite month. Lost memories run through my head along with missed opportunities. Did we even carve pumpkins last year? Last year we argued about passing out candy but both ended up falling asleep. When was the last time we went to the County Fair? The Mullet Festival? Missed opportunities for silly reasons.
Eleventh Month
The Holiday season is kicking off. Soon it will be Thanksgiving. Her absence is noticeable as I stand amongst my family and celebrate. The only ones who don't ignore it are the little ones, repeatedly asking where she is as the grownups look uncomfortable. I don't know what to tell them.
Twelveth Month
The Holidays are in full swing and I can't help but think of the last one we all spent together. She passed before Christmas. They aren't the same anymore.

One Year
Its hard to believe that a year has passed without her. Her room is the same as if shes just at school. We spent the anniversary doing things she enjoyed, like taking the family dog to the beach and sharing cotton candy.
We haven't moved on, not in the slightest. My mother still cries, I don't think she'll ever stop. But as the days pass I can see how it gets easier and easier for my family to be happy again.
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2013
In ’68 Hutch and me,
Sitting at the bar drinking
Our third cold beer.
In a semi Fern Bar
Laguna or Newport Beach
Which now, I’m not sure.
It was around nine or so,
A week day night,
The place more empty than not.

She came in alone, made
Entry like the dramatic host of
A TV show. As if she were the
Center piece on the nations
Thanksgiving Dinner Table.
Over dressed to the nines,
Lots of color, heavy make up
She didn’t really need.

Her perfume scent hovered
Around her like a cloud of insects  
On a hot summer night in a wet meadow.
Kind of made my eyes water up.

She perched daintily like a dancer,
Upon a bar stool,
Three empty stools down,
Nodded the bartender her regular order.
A martini, a double it was,
With but a dab of vermouth.
One green olive on a stick.
The glass was prechilled as if
It had been waiting only for her.
She pounded that first one down,
As if the stem wear was a shot glass.
Another full stem glass appeared,
That one also quickly consumed
Two bright red lipstick stains all that
Remained in or on the stemmed glass rim.

Her main task accomplished,
She audibly exhaled,
As if tired or relieved.
I couldn't tell which.
Turned around on her stool to face
Hutch sitting closest to her.
“You boys Marines.” She declared,
More than inquired.
The close chopped hair cuts
giving us away.

Hutch just nodded, he never did say much.
A ****** just back from The Nam,
A dark scary guy of few words.

She opened her fur trimmed cloth coat,
exposing two very nice stocking clad legs,
And just a quick flash of red underpants.
Rotating towards us so we got a better shot.

She announced her name,
like as if we should know it.
Our blank stares informed her we didn’t.
Her face was to me, somewhat familiar.  
From movies in the 40s or 50s.
We were early 20 guys, she much older,
Trying hard to look younger, not succeeding.

Soon she was sitting right next to Hutch,
Two more Martini stems had come and gone,
Her lipstick finger prints upon them.
And still Hutch had not spoken more than
Three or four words.

She bought us a pitcher of brew,
Hutch grunted a short bit of gratitude.
We didn't have to say much, she was in charge.
It was all about her, she rambled on and on
Speaking volumes saying not much at all.
Beating back her crushing obscurity,
With flowery reminiscence recall,
Of glory days, long gone away.
Important for the moment, if only to her.
It was all; “me and I, I did this, I was that,
I slept with him,
And him and him”.
How about so and so?  I asked,
“No Darling not him, he was gay!
Still is.”

It was not long and she was touching Hutch.
On the hand, the shoulder, she was working him
With languid hungry looks from her big baby blues,
And the message could not have been plainer,
Had she held up a large hand lettered sign.

I don’t believe she was a “Working Girl”,
Just someone very lonely seeking to find
Herself, and some company for the night,
All to prove that she was still alive.

Looking at her, I could only think,
How sad and pathetic she seemed,
How desperate her plight.
To humble herself so,
In that dingy bar, among strangers
She did not know, Acting yet, still
On the only stage she could find,
Staring in her own bad ‘B’ movie drama.
In that dingy smelly bar.

Hutch and her left after a hour or so,
He never told me much about it.
He was unofficially AWOL for three days.
I covered for him, kept his name off the
Missing Morning Formation Reports
and the Daily Duty Lists.
No one cared to check. Our unit made up
Of mostly guys back from the war,
A pretty loosey-goosey outfit.

Once in a while now I see an old movie,
most are Black and white, Film Noir stuff,
And there she is, a much younger her,
Looking pretty **** good,
Not real big roles they were,
Claimed she was in the chorus
Of "Singing In The Rain" in '52.
To this, I can not attest,
watched that film several times,
But I never saw her there.

Had parts Playing damsels in distress,
A mobster’s gun moll a time or two,
Or unhappy Play Girls on a bar stool.
I guess it was type casting that done her in.
Or maybe she got a little too long in the tooth..
A sad ending to a short B movie career.
Life ain’t easy, even for a so called “movie star”.
Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.
A smattering of fame, apparently worth,
Nothing at all.
True stuff from an old guys past.
She had called the Company Office
once or twice, looking for Hutch.
He told us to tell her that he had
been Shipped Out, when he actually

She no doubt found someone else to
tell her story to.

I saw that woman the other day on TV,
an old film on Turner Classic Movies
doing her thing. I sort of wonder what
ever  happened to her, but refuse to
Google it to find out.
Some information you don't need
or what to know.
It did inspire this little Poem Noir write.

Got a letter from Hutch in '70, we were
both out of the Corps. He was headed to
the Arabian Desert as a hired gun, to guard
some pipe line operation. Have no idea what
became of him after that. Hutch was a real hard
case, 14 confirmed kills through a ****** sight.
I hope he made it out of the desert all right,
maybe sitting on a beach someplace recalling
his back in the day three nights with a once
upon a time B movie star. Actually I doubt he
recalls her at all.
preservationman Nov 2014
Well it’s finally Thanksgiving eve
I am surely relieved
I will be away from the job
Yet I will be out with the travelling mob
The weather seems to have a wintry mix
I am looking for good weather to be a fix
It was a Thanksgiving eve with the traffic flow
Seeing thousands of people in travel in their go
There were many departures and arrivals
More than a tail and that’s no jive
One leaves with destined to arrive
Happy Thanksgiving to all and take in all in your stride
However, don’t drink and drive.
Brooke S Oct 2018
It's hard to be thankful for the past year,
when its been spent breathing in stale air and looking through broken glasses. Sometimes it seems easier to leave the wound open and unattended, knowing that even after it's healed it will scar.

But there is power in becoming brighter than the reality you surround yourself with, knowing that despite the ending there are the moments in between, a colour coated scene that reminds you the cold will come, but it will not last forever.

A warm drive home after a cold day,
cozy hands and falling leaves,
an in between moment,
brighter than the darkness could of ever planned for,
we are eating dessert in the tv light,
and I am thankful for you.
thanksgiving was this past weekend in Canada. A day I thought was going to be dark ended up being filled with love and it filled me with hope
Waverly Nov 2011
go outside
after you've had
all the turkey,
cranberry sauce.

After you fill
your belly
a cornucopia
of food.

Go out there
and thank god
that those
died off so quickly.

Thank god
for giving us this land,
because we own it,
we can own

It is ours
because God
said it should be ours,
not because
we took part
in one of the greatest
in history.

Breathe in
all that good air,
and thank god
that you don't have to be
on a reservation.

A refugee
on the motherland.

Our bad.
InJensMind Nov 2010
T'was the day of Thanksgiving and all through the house
the women were prepping and cursing their spouse.
Outside it was cold with lots of snowflakes
the turkey was chillin all ready to bake.
The hubbie's all lazy sat fat on their ***
doing nothing but drinking beer from a glass.
They were screaming and whining about the tv
til one vile man started a game of fartsy.
The stench of bean dip now filled up the room
when all of a sudden there was a loud boom.
One idiot had said "hey let's see if this works"
then they picked up a candle like adolescent jerks.
Big Fred bent over in front of the flame
then his pants caught on fire because of his aim.
The men started squealing like wee little pigs
trying to put out the fire by dancing a jig.
"Stop, drop and roll, you absurd little twit"
all of the men dropped til the fire had quit.
The women all standing looking in awe
started laughing hysterically  at them all.
The men didn't laugh they just got off the floor
walked back to the couch to check on the score.
The women returned to the kitchen to finish
which prompted their laughter to diminish.
Now people I warn you with candles don't play
cuz nobody wants to be homeless on Thanksgiving day.
Left Foot Poet Nov 2015
Thanksgiving Menu Planning for Gaining and Losing


having shed thirty pounds plus,
another X more yet required,
to be forever properly de-cored,
a happy subtracted scoring

part too,
brought the curtain going down
on a seven year insanity,
paid off the forever divorcing *****,
that weight worth more than a Venetian
pound of flesh

now finding myself
in a re-entry orbit,
though hardly gliding,
encased in a capsule,
friction glowing gold

the now never~ending
calorie counting and exercise rituals,
in every aspect of life,
all friendly devils of relentless,
demanding utter devotions,
all watching, wondering, watering, endlessly,
a new perennial flowering of a leaf,
all watchdogs of the truth serum called

what if?

what if
had I lived my prior
lazy loose life,
with the current rigor
of daily barefaced truth

I would never have made
choices that have redline scarred,
some made back in 1975,
into a forty year losing war,
spiral declination that permitted the
insidious, slo-mo of decay,
that could be, would be,
reversed only
by this recent heart
and soul surgery

nowadays, menu plan my life's
every actionable choice,
limiting the sugared foolishness
from the decay
one can coat themselves in,
survival lies and refrigerator drugs,
until sleep~rest intervenes

what shall I eat,
what shall I choose,
what will be this day's life choices from the menu,
answering daily inquiries from
Oliver and Siri (1),
acknowledging that more-than-occasional slippage will occur,
but taking no true satisfaction
from the periodicself-cheating,
daily weigh myself
first my body,
then, my soul,
upon the rising,
upon the setting

to see quantifiable
what I have,
yet to gain
by losing

Thanksgiving Day
Oliver Sacks

my watchwoman,
counter of the calories,
chider of the foolishness,
unafraid to question
reminding me to be
ever thankful
Despite the freezing, wintry storms,
Generous souls are proven warm
As grateful hearts this thankful eve,
Are poised to give and not receive.
Human kindness magically soars.
Many embrace the sick and poor.
Corporations and bikers clubs,
Join to share much needed grub:
Turkey, Brown Bags, and full meals.
Sick and homeless—meals on wheels.
And though uncertainty fills the air,
There's joy for Thanksgiving's near,
When folks unite to take a part
Of faith renewed in the human heart.
Perhaps tomorrow, It'll all go away,
But for now, it's Thanksgiving Day.
Reflecting a Town's Mood.  Written immediately following the 2000 Presidential Election—won by President George Bush—the country being divided over the results of hanging, pregnant and indented chads.
mbernicole Nov 2014
lets go around and tell what we are thankful for
"my home"
"this country"
i am thankful for the starving kids digging through trashcans while we make a turkey that nobody eats,
i am thankful for the freezing cold that people have to live in while my parents make me wear a coat for the few moments I'm outside,
i am thankful for this world where we have the opportunity to go to college but if you don't go you will end up like the freezing hungry people gathering around a light pole right now,
i am thankful for this food that makes me hate myself,
i am thankful for these people who ask me why i am not like my sister or my brother,
i am thankful for these ignorant people that make me so much more smart.
Thank you, family.  Don't forget to throw all the leftovers in the trash.
JR Falk Dec 2016
When my mom found us asleep in my bed at 4am and screamed at you to 'Get the **** OUT of her house,' you texted me the very next morning and asked to see me as though it never even happened.

When my family went out of town without me for Thanksgiving, we stayed the whole day at your place and watched foreign movies and ate pasta.

On our first date, we sat in your car until 3am just... talking.

When my sister really wanted that new Pokemon game and my local Walmart sold out, you voluntarily drove almost 5 towns over just so she could get it because you knew I couldn't for her.

The first time we had ***, I cried. I still don't know why. You held me the whole time.

You woke me up with tickets to one of my favorite musicians of all time, for a tour I didn't even know about.

When my dogs died, you stayed up with my the whole night as I cried. Both times.

The first time you kissed me was at a gas pump at 10pm after I changed out of my blouse and into my hoodie.

You took me to Buffalo Wild Wings even though you're a vegetarian. You even put up with my singing each 2008 Billboard Top 100 song as it played. I could tell you were embarrassed for me, but you laughed and kissed me anyway.

When I told you I hadn't been to the art museum, you took me. When I told you I'd never been to Chipotle, you took me. When I told you I hadn't felt safe in years, you made me feel the safest I ever have.

After you kissed me the first time, you admitted the thing that "made" you kiss me was my purple-stained lips after I ate Superman ice cream while belting out songs terribly and sitting in the passenger seat of your car.

When I told you that you were a terrible tipper and I was a waitress, you immediately stopped tipping terribly.

You left me a voicemail telling me you appreciated me, that you felt lucky to have me, and you claimed you didn't deserve me. While I disagree, I felt it. That was the first time I heard you say "I love you" before you had actually said the words "I love you."
I love you.

Mike Hauser Nov 2015
We tried something different this year
A Thanksgiving day buffet
I really like the leftovers though
So I lined my pockets with cellophane

To justify my actions
As I stood in line
With the twenty bucks I was paying  
Would a little take out be such a crime

Being a master of illusion
I pointed and said is that Santa Claus
While everyone was looking
I filled my back pockets with cranberry sauce

Things were running rather smoothly
As we moved along
I was stuffing everything from giblets to gravy down my drawers
As if there was nothing wrong

With tomorrows lunch now in my pockets
I went back to the table to dine
Forgetting the cranberry sauce in my rear as I sat
I squirted the lady behind me in the eye

Her husband jumped quickly into action
He was a mountain of a man
We'll just call him Everest
I didn't have time to catch his name

He picked me up and started shaking
That's when my stuffing's came flying out
Tomorrows meal went everywhere
Splattering the entire dining crowed

There was quite a ruckus
As we chased around the restaurant
It's going to be hard to get my leftovers back
Now that I've lost my air of nonchalant

As we were knocking over tables
I got the idea to grab peoples plates
Not wanting to be a spoiler of the holidays
Out the door I hollered back

Have a Happy Thanksgiving Day!
Guess over the years you'll be happy to know I've created a trilogy, so this my the end!
Donald Guy Nov 2012

6:48 a Wednesday
Two Weeks later
Then: Thanksgiving eve

I sit at my desk:
stare out of the windows <
My skull
at the Chocolate Bock I just
Overflowed > all over my notes
on the Circe episode of Ulysses,
which I have not yet read.

20 minutes after I just ––
Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone
Above the porcelain enterprise
Taking that litmus test of humanity
Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail.
It was rather clear I think
Honestly? I don't remember.

Two weeks ago, I stood there==
and came up with this phrase.
Standing there with special eyes::::
Came back to my room, I did, faithfully
Looked there below my second fridge
A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe *****
Probably marijuana
Only the first my own
Who remembers?

Next to it: an empty prescription bottle
"It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even
have asthma!"
"Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass.
Just use discarded prescription bottles."

An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot.
Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual
We make it. And have made it.
For years now together after midnight
[or so]
4 years. Soon it will be
Maybe I shall leave; probably not

but harken back, that fortnight, less 6
To that evening. Orange and purple
Effort sublime but not enough:
Lost to a team of Freshman.?!

~If only:~
"Tripped mad-laundry shrooms",
6 and a half months ago

Two men sit in the corner of my room
I know one; the other spoke

2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard
I am not sober, but who is?

Last night. Remember those videos?
reminded me that *** can be beautiful:
After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. December 6, 2011

I have a perspective now:
It is not the same as yours
it is not and, by necessity,
can not be the same.

But I see it. Stephen Daedalus
calls it immature—lyrical
but *******, James: it is mine!

I am. Will always be.
Will have never been.
But, God/Goddess **** it now!
I am: I See.
I try!

Proper reading involves out-loud pronunciation of some of the punctuation

12/7/11. the day I was drunk 14 hours.

Ostensibly written for William Corbett's 21W.756 Writing and Reading Poems.
ostensible nod to James Schuyler.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)

The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med

The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car

His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know

The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room

Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs

The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove

One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”

The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)

The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers

The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised

Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?

But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
sincelastjune Nov 2014
weather is changing
for better, or worse

and i am changing
for better, or worse

days are turning darker
nights are getting colder

and i am growing numb
to everyone, everything

soon i shall be giving thanks
in a few days time

to the people who never left
and places which molded me

i will not be eating turkey
most likely, i will eat Chinese food
by myself, somewhere in this city

but i will give thanks
i must
shouldn't i?

to everyone who has stayed in my life
and every place that carved me out of stone

that will be my thanksgiving
that will be all
that will be it for me, this year
Emma Langley Nov 2012
What does it even mean?
I mean I know the dictionary definition,
To give thanks,
But what does it really mean?
I mean what is so apealing,
about sitting around a table,
stuffing your self to the brim,
and sitting in akward silence with all of your family members?
I know that with my family this isn't the case,
we talk and tell storys about thanksgivings past.
That is until someone,
gets in a fight with someone else.
Then comes the yelling,
and the screaming,
and the crying,
and last but not least,
the "Come on kids we're going"

And then the akward silence in the car,
that is the worst
then one of the kids asks,
"why were you fighting?"
and Mom just answers,
"Don't wory about it,"
and that is the end of it.

Then you get home and get in bed,
and lay there thinking,
"what is the meaning of thanksgiving?"
"I don't think it's fighting with your family."
And then you fall asleep
The day proclaimed as Thanksgiving
Comes to us each November
A day to count our blessings
A day to recall and remember

All that God to us has given
The great and the small
The things we take for granted
God has given to us them all

Too God above I am thankful
For all I have received
When I begin to count my blessings
I simply cannot believe

My beautiful loving wife
A helpmate always by my side
Our warm and simple home
Where we safely within abide

My two little sisters
My precious loving daughter
Memories of my mother
The presence of my father

A bounty of food upon my table
Work for my hands
The freedoms I enjoy
The beauty of this great land

The love of family
Mans most treasured possession
The truth of Gods word
The promise of a resurrection

So much to be thankful for
Though thanks I do not oft enough say
Shouldent everyday we are given
Be Thanksgiving Day?
Ja Oct 2015
A pumpkin scared the moose
That's why he was on the loose
But Arthur caught the beast
And made him the Thanksgiving feast
a family thought
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
A special lace-like card
        *        *        *
Three Star points
       *  *  *
Sword-like smile-Bored-Hike pile-
Western Union Man
Money flies like Superman

Spinning wheel fan too guard
Special words have no regard
He's the Adonis-like the
Lazarus lovely-like Venus
Those effects in motion
That special tip above her lips
Steady as they go but motionless
The stars walk across her
sky lifted dress

Heavenly Pillsbury flour
Her hair flower no water
Smile Lift even in debt
Messed her heart so red
White light disaster
Nothing on this earth
we got to lose no control
Here's the *Special Rose

Winter/Sunglow hair
The Flatiron

A spaceship cowardly lion
Your the "Wildcat"
Crazy Oats
Space waves of the neutron
The dream on
Your eyes are blind
A clear day special motif
setting inside your
Word heading leaf
He lifts up your
blinds all
righteous minds

Those special love hands
Nothing was ever
staged starlight and bright
  Never yellow

It blocked out
my *Godly
On the good earth leaf
Helen Keller had the
good remedy family
When you are deaf
A green touch of
brown leafs
What you smell and feel
What's truly there
special beliefs

Or at the most
Famous Cemetery,
You got blinded  so
gilded star
you don't
see them

One of a kind that's him
Or the encounters of the
third kind Winter/Sun
The darkness slim-man-run

The cactus desert of my heartlands

Jack of all Trader Joes investments
My E-book and I Phone
best T-bone steak
Spices of theVegetarian Kingdom
Curry in a hurry for Indian Food,
E-T Extra
Terrestrial Space high bill total

ABC Chemical love reaction
A special motif so personnel
"Divine District Attorney"

Taking spiritual love
what lies beneath us
Lotus Tea Panda Bears
Of Journeys
Pyramid or the myriad

A-Special Motif
comes to me
Two Gods surrender me
Something you feel but
it's unknown
Never left in the dark
like a treasure
Teeth chatter Gold caps
Almost happy coffee
almost dark

Too many famous labels
A special romance new leaf
Time change challenging
Winter sun/Wonder fun
Amarous open chorus
Special maid devious
A special Motif delicious
The honest lawyer
Special talent space
of braces
Subsequently or coincidentally

What was special
The board meetings like *Erasers
To erase all the special places
in my heart

Dark despair trail parted
Ending up with a trail
of mixed nuts
Cars such a pain with
Synthetic Oil ****** -like Oil

The conjuring or searing
Holding the leaf in spirit
special times remembering
Sapphire September October
Comfort foods November
The heartburn living
The Winter/Sun
Special motif holding onto
his one brilliant leaf in
Ancient Egyptian King of Tut

Yearning the solemn vows
The full moon is
turning a
new leaf
The painted picture leaf
special Motif

Love so committed
The time was omitted
Family poor or rich
Invitation *Winter Sun

Those who are in need
The beacon like a
poem of goodies mend

Heaven that feeling
called my own
Even things that
are special
became unknown
Not always about
being famous

Things that are simple
that's what remains
precious eat sleep Jeep
The fairy came sweet nectar deep
Was so kind humanly rare find
A special note with a motif
I will never forget what was our belief
A special God or Motif a spiritual beauty her leaf but even when you are deaf you can smell the beauty lingering everyone is  work of beauty just living
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2016
the elbow comes to rest in the soft
skin coverage of my essence

in the dark, it's easy and free to weep
but still never cheap

everyday is still a word, an everyday struggle word,
echoing like a scream in a cavernous void

her elbow comes to be buried in my chest,
preference for an unavailable, sleeping soft cheek,
this elbow sharpened from years of work, worry &
baby carrying

on this day, of pointing,
the simple honors life bestows
comes like a pointy elbow poke,
across vastness of a bed of whiteout cotton,
freshly filling up
as I am writing,
with thankful years and thankful tears,
already recording newbie memories
freshly forming up

welcome this sharp goodness
all the days
of our lives,
even those everydays
of our lives

nothing greater than being grateful,
and the re-gifting to others
the blessings of plentifull*

5:26am Thanksgiving Day 2016
I am particularly grateful for my "posse" of fellow poets who have metamorphosed into
CR May 2013
I was searching my pockets for a story to tell my daughter on the night before Thanksgiving when she was looking especially nineteen, shouldering the immeasurable weight of being nineteen, and I couldn’t find one with a good three-act structure, but I started to tell her about the kind of vaguely existential warm knot I always used to get in my stomach when I went home from school for Thanksgiving, and how I couldn’t decide at the time whether it was happy or sad, but now I knew that it was happy for certain, and how when you think about how once things change they are not changing back it can be kinda heavy, but you don’t have to think about it too often, and we had this new recipe for cranberry sauce this year and you don’t even have to get up early to watch the parade.

When I went downstairs at nine the next morning to put the turkey in the oven, she was smiling in front of the TV, sipping a cup of black coffee with her dad.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
The seat, 15C,
it calls itself,
screams at me,
let me out!
can't breathe,
with you in it.

pretty sure
sir seat,
it ain't me
that got wider,
but that you
are slimmer.

your momma cut you
3/4 inch, on a metallic line,
on either side, each wrist,
read it in the Journal,
their motto, no fooling!

even at 10,000 feet,
the ****
cutting word
gotta put in a
guest appearance.

in the exit row
we swore an oath,
administered with
great solemnity to a
no-nonsense stewardess.

bowed we did,
to the AAlmighty,
in the event ,
we needed to operate
the emergency exit,
we would a good job.

**** right,
all cheerfully replied.
nat, women and children first,
which was perhaps
why my fingers
were crossed
under my iPad.

sweetly, they offered me
juice, soda or water,
hard crust of bread,
cost 6.99 if you could
squeeze your hand
in between
your **** and the seat,
your wallet to retrieve.
(credit cards only)

plenty turbulence on board,
the east coast weathering,
you may well have heard,
inclement weather
up and down its entirety.
at least,
I read that in Miami,
the rain is warmer.
(no charge for the
RRR, real rock n' roll)

because I am feeling
the holiday spirit,
signed up for the
up-in-the-air Internet,
the price paid,
I won't reveal,
lest you call me Midas.

somewhere over Tennessee,
I thought I would drop you
this note, pretending it was a
for-real, certified, sorta of a
poem, disguised as a
Genuine Thanksgiving Prayer.

in a way you will never understand,
that lovely thunderbolt lit up yellow,
just a click, a finger tip flick,
kind words in accompaniment,
make feel better about myself.

much do I have,
for it is given unto me,
to be thankful for.

you cannot be thankful for
only for giving and receiving.

this is my first thanksgiving here,
and though jocular do I prose,
with earnest almighty I promise myself,
I will share my corn, feed you pieces
of me that I don't speak of to others.

my feast of words, more glorious,
because of your attentions,
the warmth of of your fires of
appreciation are recorded,
each in its own unique neuron,
cherished, cared for,
and as promised,

I will shake your hands,
then your body
and your soul,
as long as
I have breath,
an Internet connection,
eyes to weep
at mine own foibles,
fingers to record,
and something
worth sharing,

I am sending you a thunderbolt,
and a notification official,
that you have given me much
thanksgiving in the year
two thousand and thirteen.

thank you.
Avoid seat 15C, just won't shut up.
CharlesC Nov 2014
He Is Just So Weird she said
young women after greetings exchanged
this comment not intended for my hearing..
A voiced contribution to world conversations
taking place in that moment..
A voice it seems from a separate self
reaching for common experience
on a level where difference reigns..
Then another encounter
he said Who Cares? his response to
an inaccurate greeting of Good Morning
as our watches recorded PM..
Thus chronos time took a rap
in a culture where chronos reigns..
We might wonder at the messages of
many other conversations occurring Now
on Thanksgiving paths...

Happy Thanksgiving to all...!
Tree branches glisten like diamond chains.

Frozen lips want to sing old refrains.

Home, and hearth, Thanksgiving too...

friends, and relatives, the house is a zoo.

Frozen outdoors as the fresh turkey arrives.

Mother in apron is sure to preside.

Pumpkin pie, spiced cider, cranberries glisten,

father tells his jokes and nobody listens.

Sister arrives with rose hips and blooms;

a dazzling display in the living room.

We all gather together to feast at the table.

Say a quick prayer and eat as much as we're able.
I wrote hallmark cards KMCOLBY@2010
james m nordlund Nov 2018
Whilst installed in the Blackhouse,
RumputiN's and vlad the impaler's latest
craven political attack on the military,
Against Admiral McRaven, who headed up
the capture of Osama, is just more raving.
This is clear to everyone since they,

the bi-headed underworld crown of
the bipolar axi of global supposed power,
RumputiN, republican capitalist materialists,
vlad the impaler, totalitarian socialist
materialists, put our military on TX's SE
border with Mexico, even though the "caravan"
which was 40 days away, was projected
to be arriving at the SW part instead,

A political stunt to get republican politicians
between 1/2 and 1 % more votes in the Midterms,
While it worked for the criminal gaining of votes,
The military is doing next to nothing there,
And should be allowed home by Thanksgiving.
Meanwhile, Trumpler said, the "Admiral didn't
do so well, since it took so long to capture
Bin Laden", when it was king george and his ****,
cheney, who ordered Osama to be allowed to escape
from Bora, Bora to Pakistan for safe keeping in

Abbottabad, "5 miles S. of Pakistan's Westpoint".  
You see, Bushs and Bin Ladens had been in business
for decades, and in the M.E. business is thicker
than blood, Bush could no more **** Bin Laden than
he could his own flesh and blood.  It's well known
that he received wedding invitations to Osama's kids
weddings, etc., for years, so, Trumpler blaming
McRaven and O'bama, when they caught him in the 2nd year
of his Presidency, is just more precious examples of our
king kong sized terrible two's use of 1st conclusion,
superficial, linear thought stragedy to attack everybody,
in attempts to silence, cower most if not All, in vain.

These attacks by Trumpler are also misdirections, to take
the news cycles off: his party's extreme losses and evident
voter crime they did, like in GA, where Abrams "couldn't
concede in her Governor's race for that would mean it was
proper...", it wasn't because Gov. Elect Kemp determined that
" wasn't a free, fair election, ...democracy failed in GA".
Also, his illegally installing Whitaker, a criminal the FBI is
investigating, to acting Attorney General, to preside over the
Mueller investigation (cover-up for: it doesn't use the RICO act
and asked for him to answer a take home test months ago, he
hasn't even handed in yet, while "...We(e),...", got our last
take home tests in 1st grade).  As well as his wasting a 1/2 a
billion of your tax $ on further militarization of our S. border.
His false, lame attacks against democratic leaders are unending.

On the letter by 16 democrat politicians who signed onto "the
leadership fight against Pelosi (for the republicans), Ocasio-
Cortez, Elect, says, "what's the point of changing just to...,
we might get a more conservative leader, for signers aren't diverse,
14 are male, very few people of color, progressives aren't signing."
I agree, why would the non-repubs get rid of their strongest
political leader going into impeachment time and 2020?  The supposed
left said "Hillary wasn't perfect", and helped to install him, when,
if you didn't vote Hillary you voted for the bi-headed, RumputiN/vlad
the impaler, head of the global oligarchy and bi-polar global axi of
supposed power to dictate the extermination to extinction of humanity,
large mammals, for the corp structure's convolution's devolutionary
direction + 'la machine''s, sociological programming (machining) human
(into not) being, individually, which is the social challenge of our
day, as the convolution's dictating cult of personality is almost all
and the socialist's extemist lie that "there's no reality without
their agreement", is the political one.  Don't be undone, be one well.
Thanx for the great worx, I look forward....  "...We(e),..." are advancing the Evolution in it's struggle against the corporate structure's (la machine) convolution and it's devolutionary direction.  You, indivisible life and illimitable potential, and your worx go along way in that evolutionary direction, for, we can walk in nature's balance, giving back to Earth's abundance.  If you didn't vote Hillary you voted for the bi-headed, RumputiN/vlad the impaler, head of the global oligarchy to dictate the extermination to extinction of humanity, large mammals, for the corp structure's convolution's devolutionary direction + 'la machine''s, sociological programming (machining) human (into not) being, individually, which is the social challenge of our day, as the convolution's dictating cult of personality is almost all and the socialist's extemist lie that "there's no reality without their agreement", is the political one.  All life are necessary threads in life's fabric, we can't allow to be torn asunder, as we followed none, we leave no footprints that will echo on, in all ways, always.   reality
Hannah Kollef Nov 2010
Hey Indians
(or Native People/Americans):

I wish I was sorry

that the pilgrims stole your land,

and gave you all those

diseased blankets

and whiskey and diabetes;

but I really like pumpkin pie.

Sorry, dudes.

Anyways, hope we're cool now.

You like gambling, right? Right?


Happy Thanksgiving, man.
Copyright Hannah Kollef 2010
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
Woke up with children in my mind, wrote two new,
then stumbled on this...
I give this poem to an orchestra leader I know, who understands better than most, that conducting and being surrounded by many, is oft the loneliest task and who knows best the meaning of
"finally, all synchronized in time and space, on a single continuum, within, without and through."

Thanksgiving Day 2011

the picture window,
restless generations,
multitudinous compilations,
children's backyard runnings,
all about, hide n' seek,
uncoordinated coordination,
well calculated randomness,
perfection in its

my bloodstream,
chemical changes,
blow thru my veins,
direction home,
like leaves,
on a November weekend,
windswept from a thousand directions,
endless energy, noise, and commotion,
results of internal tremblings,
the side effects of satisfactions,
in ways I could only dream of...

knowing, nonetheless,
the knowledge rests within,
footage of future days of
quietude and satisfaction,
recalling earlier simplicities,
records recorded somehow
before it happens,
records recorded now and then,
but only for
future consumption.

Harmonies of times,
well deserved,
to be future spent,
now, finally, all synchronized
in time and space,
on a single continuum,
within, without and through.

They say that Einstein erred,
time cannot outrace gravity,
therefore it cannot be
that I have seen the future.
Yet, I know with
unerring certainty,
these truths
posses the gravity,
that thanks,
I have and
will again,
and will give

The remainders,
the children,
the net of our gains and losses,
within them,
        my thanks lives,
without them,
        I am lessened,
through them,
        I am whole,
Why these lyrics? Because they fit me
"at these few hours"

► 4:30► 4:30

Artist : Eva Cassidy Album : Eva By Heart Year : 1998 Important : I own absolutely nothing ...

Wayfaring Stranger Lyrics

I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
While journeying through,
This world of woe,
Yeah, and there's no sickness,
toil nor danger,
In that bright land,
To which i go.

I'm going there to see my Father,
I'm going there,
No more to roam,
I'm only go,
Going over jordan,
I'm only go,
Going over home.

I know dark clouds,
Will gather on me,
I know my way,
My way is rough and steep,
Yeah, and beautiful fields,
Lie just before me,
And God's redeemed
Their vigils keep.

I'm going there to see my Father,
I'm going there,
No more to roam,
I'm only go,
Going over jordan,
I'm only go,
Going over home.

I'm going there to see my Mother,
I'm going there,
No more to roam,
I'm only go,
Going over jordan,
I'm only go,
Going over home.

I want to wear,
That crown of glory,
When I get home,
To that good land,
Well, I want to shout,
Salvation's story,
In concert with,
All the blood-washed band.

I'm going there to see my Saviour,
I'm going there,
No more to roam,
I'm only go,
Going over jordan,
I'm only go,
Going over home,
Well, I'm only go,
Going over home,
Yeah, only...

Made this far, then see

Nat Lipstadt · May 26
Eva Cassidy, **** You
Bob B Nov 2017
Thanksgiving Day was fast approaching,
And family members and friends were cheerful.
At the same time, however, people
Were starting to feel a little bit fearful.

The holiday attendees were split
As to their feelings regarding the POTUS.
If he appeared on the TV screen,
They'd have to pretend to take no notice.

The day arrived and all were together,
Watching football and having fun
Talking about a myriad of topics--
Everything BUT that certain ONE.

The turkey was carved; the dinner was ready.
Every Thanksgiving's a major feat.
Grannie sat at the head of the mile-long
Table and yelled, "Come and eat!"

Food was passed this way and that way;
Mounds appeared on everyone's plate.
They all wanted to savor the food
But found that each new bite couldn't wait.

Suddenly, Grannie blurted out,
"STOP eating! Before you resume,
I'd like to talk about something important,
And that's the elephant in the room."

Aunt Margaret practically choked
While Uncle Bill patted her back.
Cousin Katie gulped and fanned
Herself, feeling the room go black.

The uncomfortable silence lingered.
Uncle Ernie kicked his wife
Under the table. The tension was so
Thick it could be cut with a knife.

"Why is everyone so uptight?”
Asked Grannie. "I'm sure you all agree
That it was time for a change, and so…
That's why I bought an SUV!"

Everyone felt a wave of relief
Pass through his or her body, and then
The sounds of delight filled the room
As everyone started eating again,

Saying such things as "Cool, Grannie!"
"Of course, Mother!" "I know I
Think you deserve whatever you want.
Now let's have some pumpkin pie!"

Thanksgiving Day went just as it should;
Nobody fought; no one was maimed.
We have a wonderful time when we don't
Talk about him who should not be named.

(11-22-17) Bob B
Lía Sep 2014
They call me Ghetto.
They call me
gunfights and drive-bys,
pregnant teens.
They call me Poverty,
and concrete winter walls
splashed with blood-red
They call me
junior-high druggies
and gang-banging muchachos.
They call me Mexico
like it’s a ***** word.
They call me Ghetto.

But haven’t they seen through
the white-washed walls
of the
“American Dream”?
Don’t they know hurt
and suffering,
and neglect,
as well?

So call me Mexico;
call me Poverty;
call me Ghetto.

I am
run-down yards
filled with laughing brown children,
small apartments
bursting with the scent
of tamales,
mingled with joy and the chatter of relatives.
I am home-made tortillas
at Thanksgiving
and wrinkled hands pounding masa
at Christmas.
I am friendly smiles
and shouted jokes
followed by roaring
I am the lilting syllables
of a beautiful
I am comfort.

They call me Ghetto
and so I am.
no dead birds in the oven
no innards in the stuffing
nor fatty drippings to be scraped and poured

the smell of roasted veggies
wafts through  the wintry air
pumpkin and sweet potatoes
marshmallows  green beans  lentils
turnips  & collard greens
hashed browns & black-eyed peas
quinoa  sorghum cuscus hummus
carrots  leak  broccoli Romanescu
gumbo in southern regions
wild rice dishes in the north
tastily spiced with turmeric
cumin and baked paprika
Indian curry  soy sauce  chipotle
as well as with the usual suspects
of garlic  salt  and pepper
and whatever fits the taste of hosts

in short
a venerable feast to demonstrate
how nature feeds us a large cornucopia
of plants for our delight and sustenance

in short
no need to **** a bird

                * *
Some Person Nov 2014
And by that, I mean my Turkey Cheese *****

But for real, it can also **** my *****

That is, my Stuffing *****

But, on a serious note... it can **** my real, actual *****

Of course, I'm referring to my Oreo Cookie *****

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Just a little cheap humor for the holiday!*****-with-variations-146597*****-179988.aspx
wichitarick Nov 2017
"Over the river and thru' the woods to Grandmother's house we go."

No, we don't go to Grandma's house anymore.
As we did away back in days of yore.

But we still remember the good times we had.
The caring and love, tho' times were bad.

Grandpa saying Grace in his old German ways.
Grandma in her apron; those were the days.

It all started about nineteen-fifteen,
With it's tall White house and big red barn.

Come Thanksgiving, with no relatives near,
They gathered with neighbors to bring Holiday Cheer.

To the four-mile schoolhouse they came all together,
With families and food -- no matter the weather.

For each pioneer mother did her very best
To cook her special treats and out do the rest.

And give thanks for gardens and neighbors so near,
They brought and shared gladly their food and good cheer.

The children had practiced for weeks., come what may.
For each had a piece to  be given that day.

A song to be sung, maybe a poem read from a card, ,
While the Wheezie old ***** was pumped very hard.

When all the program was over and done,
On to Grandma's and Grandpa's for more food and fun.

A few years later instead of the farm we'd go,
To the old Rock  House -- home of Tena and Joe.

Eventually the group grew too large and so
To Potwin Community House we did go.

So today we give thanks for a legend in our time,
For Grandpa and Grandma and the memories they left behind.

And for friends and aunts, uncles and cousins,
We come altogether each year by the dozen.

to remember the past and visit a while here.
Then to say Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

- Doris G -- 1983
Found this buried & brought a smile, something my Grandma wrote yrs. back.
seemed fitting today. My Moms Mom,although I was not close to her,I feel I knew her well,I am like my mom and she was like her mom.
Interesting lady ,although she never had a reason to use it ,she learned new things her whole life obtaining degrees and mail order degrees:) in all manner of topics,even when blind she continued reading by mail order cassette tape:)
But I Hope folks have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Thanks for reading!Rick

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