"thanksgivings" poems
The table is set for our thanksgiving feast
and all have taken their place
The meal of the year, is finally here,
and oh, how great it will taste..
Potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce,
and rolls that are made fresh and hot.
Turkey with stuffing, right out of the oven.
Pumpkin pie that hasn’t been bought.
Our family is anxiously gathered around
in a circle of love hand in hand.
A scene reminiscent of thanksgivings past.
A tradition we all understand.
Dad offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God
for abundance of blessings we share.
Tears touch his cheeks as he humbly gives thanks
for much more than the food that is there.
Though stomachs are empty, each heart is full
while united as family we pray,
Thanking dear God for His wonderful love,
and our blessings this Thanksgiving Day.
When this day is gone and life carries on,
may gratitude live on in me.
Lord help me, I pray, to make every day
a day of thanksgiving to Thee.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 10:40 AM UTC
~~~
“To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” Henri Bergson
well in that case,
I’m either the most immature teen here,
or Rip Van Winkle
the re-creation process is six, nearly seven,
decades long (you thot days, ha, no way),
can’t recall the last name
I called myself
the delving, the researching, the forgetting,
the fifty first dates of no short term memory,
the checkdown, throwback Thursday of
did I write that?
no recollect, the pretense of
prehensile strength to touch
you and me simultaneously
might, could be true,
if you claim I authored it,
ok with me and all that
life taught me this,
the one who oft hangs around
very young kids
learns a lot,
and soon recognizes
maturity indeed endless
but not senseless
just a poem-of-the-day process
indeed
every sense says the minute difference
between this morning and this approaching midnight,
an opportunity to grow up, stand straighter, uprighter,
write down my failures one more time,
cause that is the sterling hallmark impressed upon
thyself, ourselves,
that is genuine maturity,
the courageous wisdom to start all over again
the clock has transgressed,
moving past
the 12:00am digits,
which for cause
makes me giddy,
it’s permission to write a new one,
of course,
maturely thinking I still got one within,
a newbie, an aged day-old brand new baby,
a poem,
of course
god bless, I’m all grown n’ growled up,
with wisdom to know I don’t got nada,
but own the immature youthful courage of maturity,
to keep on trying, endlessly,
being your obedient-servant
~~~
*p.s. this is kind of love poem of thanksgivings,
a love poem with no misgivings,
a thank you for the fragments of sharing -
hold so dear,
the best reason to mature,
the best reason to change,
the best reason to write
right now, here comes the mojo
my newest oldest friend,
reminding for the last and first time
that I’m all growed,
using the bigliest words I’ve known
to say baby, hey baby,
good night good morning
write us a poem,
a thank you note,
from one who blessedly forgets his name,
day in and year out*
For that guy,
you, that ancient kid,
That poet-in-retrograde
so rewrite the title, a refresh,
are you immature enough to write?
1:12am
~for the crew~
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 1:28 AM UTC
I have had sorrow
I had pain
I have been locked out in the rain
I had stuff happen in life that's hard to explain
I have been knocked down and felt like giving up
Like a comedian once said " life happens when you make other plans"
That statement seems to speak some truth.
Life sure has not turned out the way I have wished
That is why I must persist
When I have planned for sunshine
I have gotten rain
Planned to be happy ever after
only to discover pain
Through it all I have gotten stronger ( I think)
Life is a work in progress it is not finished yet
Life happens but I must persist
I know what it is like to be hungry
or well fed ( think thanksgivings past)
Those are cherished memories
sure to last
I have found
There is more joy in being content
than in wishing for what I don't have
If I have somewhere to rest
or some food to eat
man, that is pretty neat
Some day's I feel weary or pretty beat
I may not get want I want
But it is a blessing to get what I need
Like family that I love
and a few close friends
on whom I can depend
When I think about that my live seems pretty full
I than feel more complete and whole
Let life happen if it takes it's toll
I will fight off worry
It can not add a day to my life
Or add more hair to my head
I would prefer not to have troubled
thoughts when I retire to bed
Life can be worth living
That is why I must persist!
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
No phone call tonight.
The sick moon
coughs a cloud -
like a gray stain
on its face -
& I watch
as the new cloud
falls through the night
like a guillotine.
Sick moon,
thin and waxing,
my chest is
a curving hurt too.
Twisted and torqued
by the old carving forks
from the Thanksgivings
where red wine
sat screaming, and
polished plates
were also moons,
hard and silent
and empty.
No phone call now,
the breakup is done.
I shed my skin and salt it.
No phone call now,
only vagrant silence.
The sick moon breathes
a scrape of cloud
down the quiet
spine of night.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sometimes it occurs to me,
Okay...every morning it does,
To be honest,
As gentle light filters slowly into my room,
And breaks along the window sill,
And scatters across the empty floor,
Reflecting on empty socks,
And what I wore the night before,
Shadows created become ominous shrouds,
Reminding and inviting me,
To return to the unconscious world I was so rudely thrown from,
Kicked out of,
No more peace for me,
No more sleep,
I toss and turn,
Hoping to find that serene place,
Where inviting and invisible wishes remain,
Please another minute or two,
of unreality, so I plead,
don't make me wake,
It's quieter here,
It's warm and so comforting,
And then the stupid alarm goes off!
Really? It's monday already?
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
Thanksgiving Day,
The day of the giving of thanks.
Also known as a public holiday,
When everyone gets together.
Yet, it is unfair that,
Like everyone else,
Her eyes cannot meet his,
His arms cannot hold her,
They cannot dine in laughter,
Across 8,000 miles on such day.
Still, on this day,
She is thankful –
Thankful for who he is,
Thankful for who he is not,
Thankful for what they are,
Thankful for what they are not,
Thankful that they still ARE.
For now,
They cannot spend
Even a single hour of the day
In one another’s company.
But, she looks beyond
What cannot be shared today.
For one day,
They will leap across time
And all the miles in between
To land in each other’s arms
For many Thanksgivings to come.
Hasty groceries,
Annoying prepping,
Crowded kitchen,
Noisy children,
Frustrated guests,
Fattening bellies,
Drunken dance,
Disorderly house,
Sleepy mumbling –
WE will get to all of that.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Days like this remind me
of the 5 year old hanging
from her pink feather boa.
Contrived Eyes,
Smile wide,
Downstairs
at a drugged up,
perfect table.
Far, Far away.
I grew up
and threw it
Far, Far away.
Thanksgivings been found at the bottom of a bottle
and I'm thankful for the dope in my pocket.
I burn that life away.
And this is where I fly
Fly high,
Fly,
Far, Far
away.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
I look at my brother
I look at my sister
She looks so much like you
And he looks like her
I wonder what you see in me
Do I have her nose
She says I have your hands
I’m sorry it’s been ten years
And I still ***** dance
With this ***** sprite
When I take these xans
Some times I think you ran
Because you looked at the
Drugs in my hands
That she says look just like yours
And couldn’t face the pain
Knowing we share the same veins
I just hope you don’t think you
Failed
And I hope to God
That you don’t look at me
And feel
That all your efforts
Were to no avail
Yeah, as you can tell
I still blame myself
But
I look at my brother
I look at my sister
And I couldn’t picture
Leaving their mother’s side
Then still trying to attempt
To call them mine
I know I sound selfish
But you married another
And called her child your son
All the while
I wonder what it was I did
Or didn’t do enough
To no longer remain the glue
That kept you at her side
After all this time
What hurts the most
Is you were able
To call my mom your wife
For twenty years of my life
Yet only nine for my brother
He didn’t deserve to feel alone
**** what I feel
You left my little brother alone
I remember the nights
You never came home
And found a reason
To tell yourself
You couldn’t answer the phone
Those were the mornings
I watched Adventure Time
With my brother
In our living room
When it should have been you
Those were the days
I prayed
He would never have to grow up
Without his father at his side
Even though you tell yourself
It’s enough that
You’re “only one hour away”
I know
You both were young
And I don’t believe
That either of you
Every truly found love
Within the arms
Of each other
I know
You only stayed together
So long
Because I was the first
Child you had
And so for her
You wanted me to be happy
And I still hope one day
You discover what that word means
I remember it
I still see it in my dreams
I think I saw it on your face
That day you tried to teach me
How to throw a baseball
Back when we both were young
I never could quite catch
Time and make it last
Like a butterfly
The effect caused me to crash
But I know
You tried your best
To be happy
To smile when you didn’t want to
And I thank you
Dad
But I look at my mother
And my eyes swell up with hate
Only because you couldn’t see
What I do in her
Any longer
I know
I was your first born child
And my first smile
Was the first time
You saw hers in a while
In something other than
Your memories
I hope you never forget that moment
But you broke
My family into two
Two Thanksgivings
Two Christmas’s
Two birthday gifts at a time
When we only ever needed one
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
these are the times of flowering
throwing out seeds to the winds
birds eggs nests and hatchings
learning to fly in stillness and wind
to balance on spindly legs while
walking on the rotating seasons
bat flight in moon light and insects
by the millions all alive and living
short seasonal thanksgivings
hymning to the universe that's
black and cold with stars warming
other worlds who rotate barren
of life and look on with great envy
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
Snow on the ground
tears in your eyes
Late Thanksgivings trimmings
being made with a
bit of melancholy
Bittersweet
but bittersweet
is sometimes best.
The sweet is all
the more
well,
sweet.
Head my words
Read my lips.
The snow is falling
for someone.
I didn't know him
well, and I
could tell
he didn't know me
either.
Alas,
no more;
a quiet death.
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 7:55 PM UTC
A little place
Named The Outpost
Was where I spent
Fourteen months of my short life
Two thanksgivings,
Two Christmases,
And my fourteenth birthday
All spent there
In the place that was my home
When I had no home.
I spent my whole eighth grade year there
And half of my ninth
In that ghetto little motel room
With the rest of my family
With its dark green carpet
Later on replaced for a pale peach
And the one bed my parents shared
And the one couch I called mine
And the floor my brother slept on
When he wasn't elsewhere
Yes,
It was very cramped
One room to the four of us
And it was horrible
Not having any privacy
Always having to deal with my parents
No escape
But I'm grateful for that ***** little motel room
Now that days are better
I'm grateful that I was able to learn
And be grateful for my current home
A small, cheap house
But nonetheless a mansion
Compared to the earlier mentioned
See,
Some people are put into trials
And they come out
With hardened hearts
But I came out
With gratefulness and understanding
Of the rough world around us all
And I know, it's tough
It's really really tough
But you know what?
Those fourteen months were hell
But I'm still here;
If I could do that,
Then you could overcome your trials and tribulations
I believe in you.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
Thanksgiving,
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
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
picturing
God's hands
placing
one at a time
my problems
worries
griefs and sorrows
joy
and thanksgivings
the placing of it all
into loving hands
and yes,
finally
I climb in too.
♥
Cj 2016
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
This is my goodbye to you.
I've loved you for four years.
I've missed you for one.
I've taken back roads,
And detours to avoid your road.
Slipped and broken bones,
Trying to miss your exit.
Each without success.
Ending up in your driveway,
Falling in love even more.
Knowing **** well you don't love me.
I have loved you since 2014.
Been through hell and back with you.
Only man i trusted to meet my mom,
Last man to ever meet my dad.
I loved you.
Wholeheartedly.
Without bound or limit.
And in the end im spitting out teeth.
From the smack in the face when you left.
Hitting me out of nowhere,
Just gone.
Like i didn't matter.
Over text.
Like and after thought,
Oh by the way...
No.
Ive back pedal and rewritten this dozens of times.
Trying to have the right words.
So you understand.
I'm not you.
Leaving you isn't something that's
Easy for me to do.
You mattered to me.
You were never an after thought.
But my neck still hurts from your leaving.
And 2 months later a new girlfriend
Who must have been there all along.
Like a shadow.
I have loved you for 6 birthdays,
6 christmas's, 6 thanksgivings,
and 5 new years.
But that ends here.
My heart's still pleading with me,
To wait a little longer.
To hang on,
He'll come back.
But you left so fast,
Almost like you were never here.
You watched me watch my dad die.
Told me you'd be here.
To hold me up,
You had my back.
1 month later you had her on her back.
And i became...
An after thought.
Left in the broken bleeding wreckage,
Of my life.
Alone with whiplash.
From the backlash of her,
And you together.
I have loved you for 4 years.
I'll probably love you a lifetime more.
But this is my goodbye to you.
Because after 4 years of loving you.
All i got was....
A text message like an after thought.
Oh by the way,
And whiplash from your cruelty.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC