When I think back...
I see your eyes on me across the room,
The way your lips slowly curve into a happy smile,
Your strong arms holding a child,
And I think back...
Do you remember being the "Big Man" on campus back then?
Or the easy ways of the women you've held?
The loving hearts that you've shuttered and broke?
And I think back...
Do you remember those secret games we once played?
Or the silent pleas to the Lord that you've made?
The loving family you've had and destroyed?
And I think back...
And I think back to the way things are and smile,
And I think back to the way you were and I know,
And I think back to the man you've become and I love you,
And I thank back...then I thank God.
Copyright © Alina Councilman | Year Posted 2014
Turkey so dry that I can’t speak
Brussel sprouts boiled for a week
Roast potatoes burnt to a crisp
Inspired by Andrea’s contest but not written for it!
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand. Rolling them over and over and over. Leaving this
reality behind, far behind I stepped into the magic mirror and there I was back in 1959. It
was the same month, November. I looked around and it was the same as I remember it had
been then. Mom looked so young and beautiful and said, "The school bus will be here in a
few minutes." I looked at the calendar and saw that it was November 25th, the day before
Thanksgiving. I said, "But mom, I haven't been in school in forty years." I got this strange
look from her but she didn't say anything. Walking toward the door I caught a reflection of
myself in the hall mirror. I was so young. My hand immediately went to my face and I
stopped and stared at myself for a few minutes. I said, "Mom, can I stay home and be with
you today?" Again I got that strange look from her, then she smiled and said, "Sure, it's
your last day before Thanksgiving anyway, why not?" She and I sit down and talked for
hours. Then I said, "Do you mind if we go next door and visit with Maw Maw and Paw Paw?
I haven't seen them in so long and I've missed them terribly!" Again another strange look
from mom. Next door I saw Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they had been in 1959. I wept and
they all looked at me so strangely. I hugged them and kissed them all and we talked for
hours. Dad finally came home from work and I ran and hugged him so hard. "Dad why did
you have to leave us in June?" Again I got strange looks from everyone. My tears were
falling. I saw Aunt Frances and Uncle Bill who lived beside Maw Maw and Paw Paw. "I've
missed you both for so long." Strange looks again! They didn't understand because to them,
it was just another day in 1959. The day grew late and I knew my time was soon ending. I
got near the magic mirror and mom and dad were standing there so young and healthy. I
said, "Mom I'll see you on the other side of the mirror, but dad, I'll see you another time,
another place." They didn't understand. I stepped back through and my reflection was as it
had been before. Mom was sitting in her chair at age 84. I said, "Mom, do you remember
the day before Thanksgiving, 1959, when I stayed home from school and we spent the day
together?" She said, "Yes, it was so strange that you could never remember anything about
it. It was as though you had amnesia.
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009
In advance, I wish to heal the mind, body, and soul
Thanking all God's creatures
Coating all my expressions from-
-Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Conceal every worry,
Focus on the goodness that fills my spirit with thankfulness
And, well, honored comments.
This is a rich tribute to:
All Poetry Soup Poets, with grateful and appreciating hearts
Enjoy the time, you give each and every Poets
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
I’ll get those stars
and offer you with love.
Your stellar writes are our joys
You’re the greatest poet
-best mentor of all.
I’ll pin near your heart
token of gratitude
your comments, contests
May 26, 2013 1pm
Note: This is especially for my dearest poetry sis & my greatest poet.
Contest: Free Verse
Sponsor: My greatest poet & sis Linda A
Contest: a Poem In Honour of PD
Sponsor: Abdulhafeez Oyewole
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013
That I am alive today
Is His grace I should exalt.
That I conceives thoughts
And am able to interprete them
Into words for minds to receive
Is another reason I think
He deserves my praise.
This new episode of my life
Is like a dream.
A dream that
Perhaps I know
Where its starts
But I don't know
Where and when
It will end.
A nation of pieces may not contain
I don't know of later.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013
Tender pats of a grateful mum
Saved from deaths door and sure scorching
The heat and ash were so close to overpowering
When a savior reached out and lifted us to safety....
How can I say thankyou, you are my hero?
I have not words but an overflowing heart
I give what I have....a tender touch
As I wipe the dust from your eyes
**Written about a picture of a mother dog that was rescued along with her pups from a burning
building by a brave fireman. The mother dog licked his face tenderly to say thanks for your help!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011
(Be careful what you eat)
Dad and I went hunting on giant’s mountain
They sleep for hours at a time so we climb kinda sneaky
Crawl real slow over their big arms and limbs
And noses that snore louder than the wind
Our hunger grew as we entered dragon valley
We had our sights set on a baby one
They are easy to catch and put in a bundle bag
We charm them with a cookie and a smile
I had dragon burgers on my mind
They say the tail is tender and delicious
We love it with cranberries on the table with side dishes
A young blue dragon galloped up to us and spoke
He said his name was Teddy
I said, my name is Dave. This is my dad
And what a coincidence! I have a bear at home called Teddy
Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving Dinner?
Another coincidence popped up
They too have a holiday the same as us
And call it, The Celebration of Breathing Fire
His mom and dad said yes to dinner
But we couldn't put him in a bundle bag
As dragons don’t like to suffocate
We were so happy to find our talking friend called Teddy
That we could no longer think of serving him as food
Next to the turkey or even as a side dish
Because he was so polite and oh so civil
We simply had him as our guest for dinner
The moral to my story is
Eat your dinner but don’t eat your friends
Created on 10/18/14 for- Fable to the Rescue – Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
The Turkey’s Revenge
The lights went out…..slowly
…….they dropped like flies
…………in a sudden frost.
……to the inexorable end.
…..lowered respiration rates
…Soft sighs of satiation
Building….in a muted rumble
….rising to a roaring
Parades went by
…….games were played
….taunting texts unanswered
……..will be posted
……..of the Turkey’s Revenge
..the bane of Tryptophan’s
……of uncut pies
…………awaiting their fate.
John G. Lawless
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
In the stillness of the early morn
When nature shakes off the remnants of slumber
Leaves stretching, flowers opening
I sit quietly with my cup of tea in reflection.
Gazing at the first visages of dawn
As the sun lazily climbs into the heavens
Gradually dressing the day in a kaleidoscope of hues
Huddling a bit deeper into the quilt I have wrapped about me.
Oh quiet morn what blessing will you bestow today?
A gentle shower, a warm caress?
Or will passion shatter us from our doldrums,
Enveloping fury of an unleashed tempest.
Communion with nature, I tune into earths heartbeat
Thundering through my blood, rejuvenating my soul
I rise and salute you in prayer and thanksgiving
Calmer from the spiritual union of birthing a new day.
Copyright © Lena Pate | Year Posted 2009
Haar se kyu dare hum..
Jab jeet ka pata na ho...
Sapno k tutne ki fikar kyu kare..
Jab pure hone ka pata na ho...
Fikar kyu kare kal ki..
Jab kal k hone ka pata na ho..
Kyu chinta hum kare..
Jab samay ka kuch pata na ho...
Kyun auron ki khushi se apni khushi ko tole..
Kyu na usk gamo ki parvah kare..
Hona wahi hai jo bhagya mei likha..
Toh itni hay tauba kyu kare..
Hai karm Kartavya mera..
Phal ki chinta kyun kare..
Jo hai likha milna mujhe...
Toh usk chinne ki parvah kyu kare..
Haar se kyun dare...
Copyright © Abhishek Chaturvedi | Year Posted 2015
It's hard doing something different.
It's difficult staying yourself.
In a world so accustomed to conformity,
It feels nearly impossible to be unique
As the one He created you to be.
How do we find the strength?
How do we find the courage?
How do we find the bravery?
Where do we defeat fear?
Well, He's hanging on The Cross
Giving life to you and me.
Thank You Jesus!
Let us not forget
Nothing is impossible,
For with God,
All things are possible!
Thank You Father!
We give our lives to You!
We are Yours!
Praise You forever
In Jesus' Name,
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
You've fallen down again;
How can you let darkness win?
You just scraped your knee,
You didn't break your leg.
It will all be okay;
I will give you strength.
Brush it off, my child;
Come and take my hand.
Let me help you up again;
You will be okay.
I have always been with you,
And I always will be.
I am by your side,
But this time,
Will you allow me to take the lead?
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
By my side:
The tallest mountain,
The calmest pond,
The purest stream;
My hope and strength,
Faith and love;
Always by our side
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
The years have rolled by
Hours into days; days into months
Continuous rotation from soft sunrises
To brilliant sunsets on the western horizon
On and on year upon year
Until this tall, slender, white female
Has become an elder, a senior citizen
Or, an old woman; I prefer an elder lady—
With pace slowing from a cheetah to a kitty cat
But, with mental acuity sharp as a razor;
Though the thought processes have changed
From policy and procedure to poetry and prose –
“The purposes is to identify” becomes
‘Love likened to soft velvet”
I’m glad God stopped me from working and said,
“This is what I want you to do now.”
Oh, that my tongue was that of a skilled writer*
Or, that my hand could express what my heart thinks,
How blessed to look at life retrospectively
And see life’s puzzle gradually coming in place
But, still have the sweet wonderment
Of what is yet to be while inhaling the present;
An elder lady with lifetime developed refinement
Combined with a sense of contentment
It is better to be settled in later years
Than the flitting from hither to the yon
Of youth scrambling for meaningfulness
Though that is not true for all youth or all elders;
Searching in crooks and crannies
Wiping away the cobwebs of life
Looking for what may have been or
Ridding the what was and won’t go away
Rainbows, sunrises, sunsets, gentle rains
Add visual flavor and meaning
As the tall and slender becomes bent
And hair turns to silver—
Children rise up to call their mother blessed;**
Sunrise to sunset day upon day
Continually rotating in God’s beauty
From dawn to dusk until eternity
-Evelyn Pearl C. Anderson -2015
* Psalm 45:1
Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson | Year Posted 2015
I did not know then what gods there were
And was never concerned or thought about
But I do know for certain now
He can come to us to any form.
I had been attacked by the dragon “cancer”
Threatening to take away *my talent to speak.
I heard his voice, “Come unto me and rest”
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down thy
Head upon my lap, don’t be sad or downcast”.
I did not see him positively in any of his form
But I did feel him in a divine way never felt before.
He came to me as a doctor diagnosing earlier
Giving many years to live and roam the world over
To see and to play with my grand children
As if that’s not all, shortly with great grand children.
That was the day He gave me the perfect health
And relief from suffering, turmoil and labor.
*• Cancer of the Vocal Chords ( in 1994)
January 30, 2015
Second Place win
Contest: This is the day the Lord gave
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2015
When it comes to prayer
I feel inadequate to the task
Unsure what to ask for
Selfishly requesting the things I want
even though I know You are not a genie
confined to a bottle
Please help me to see beyond the me
my child like needs
Freedom can't be found in the temporary
Help me to lift others on my words
to Your loving hands
Coat my tongue with Your praises
Let thankfulness rise from my page
Infuse me with Your compassion
for all that I have and am belongs to You
Let me be Your instrument
allow Your music to flow through my veins
Help me to hold nothing back
with my hands please hold the poor
Use my broken for Your cause
My selfish prevents me from seeing with Your eyes
I realise I need to let it go
For You are my King,
brother, sister, wife, friend and mother
Every ounce of special in my life
The cup of Love that overflows
Seeds of happy that you have sewn
Let them grow until every branch
reaches towards Your generous and Holy Heart
For Regina's Prayer contest
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
by Patrick Cornwall on Friday, January 20, 2012 at 10:08am
He was the last of his kind and it was known.
Some dated him one hundred years and he had style.
Christmas was his time and the rest of the year he felt nothing.
But Thanksgiving came and some cared and tried to help.
They came in their vans with Almighty Church of Thanksgiving and Christmas painted on its sides.
But after the New Year he was alone again except for his friend the rat.
He slept in the subway, where it wasn't too bad.
His clothes were in tatters and the rat brought him food.
His blanket was newspapers which he read and then slept underneath.
Sometimes the rat read to him while he snoozed.
The niners went casually around him and his newspapers but some listened to the rat reading.
The rat was nice and sometimes the Old Man would read to him too.
The rat loved the funnies and would roll over holding his stomach laughing.
The Old Man grabbed his Thunderbird and gave some to the rat.
The rat drank when in the mood and most times he was.
The rat wasn't supposed to drink because of his high blood pressure.
The old man loved the rat but he often disappeared and it made him sad.
He took a pull and wondered where the rat had gone and braced against the cold.
He saw the rat sitting in the booth where the tokens went and rat waved him through.
He was hungry and searching found a perfectly good hamburger in the pickup window.
People watched as he dug in the trash can and the train lighting the tunnel.
He washed the burger down with the last of his Thurnderbird and decided to get on the train before it came.
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
The turkey was placed on the table.
Pies in the oven baking.
The football game on tv.
Grandma yells"dinner on"
Went all of a sudden the turkey is gone. Can't be found nowhere.
The back door was open, but no one was there.
When grandpa yells pizza again!
There was no Thanksgiving dinner this night.
For the dogs on the corner had a joy.
While we sat and gave blessing for the pizza boy
It's pizza thanksgiving not turkey this year.
Copyright © Harold Hunt sr | Year Posted 2014
I can act insane
But DO NOT
Make me feel worthless
I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation
Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee
I can act like an
Adult, but I’d
Prefer to have joy…
That piles upon us in our
Being childlike is
A rare beauty –
No one prizes it…
No one came across it…
In this lifetime…
I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine
Renew my young heart
Give me the ability
To kill the old man…
I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs
By my future generation
I beg of you –
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy
I’ll still have pieces of a child in me
And pass it on to my future generation…
Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2013
You take my little tantrums...
You listen through my pity party
and gently remind me
You still love me
No, "I told you so"
but gentle whisperings
of things I've ignored
and I know
You take my ingratitude...
but then again
you speak to me
through the eyes filled with tears
through the images that won't let me be
Stuck in the world of complacency
You speak to me
You take my questionings...
and you let me rant and rave
Knowing you can save
Knowing in the end
I'll face that same grave
as everyone else
and so You wait....
wanting me to see
Beyond the now
Into your eternity
You take my questionings....
I don't know how to thank you
the Master of the Universe
you come down to me
and talk to me
and hold me
and sing to me
and love me
No one else does
No one else will
Love me like you do
I know it's true
and tonight, Lord
I just want to say...
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
I am malleable in God’s hands,
No one can shape me like He can,
He never gives me anything that I can’t handle,
He always knows what He is doing,
No one can compare to Him,
He is the father I never had,
I can truly trust, love, and honor Him,
Because He made me,
He loves me,
And I love Him,
I will never be able to put my heart into someone else’s hands with such trust!
Because He is love!
And I am His.
- Inspired by Jeremiah 18:6
Jeremiah 18:6 NIV
“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as the potter does? declares the Lord.
“Like clay in the hands of potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.
Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2013
United at the family hearth the united kindred do gather,
Heart and home filled with holiday warmth, these are the
Blessings of Thanksgiving.
Legacy’s treasured reunion, our loved ones sharing traditions
Sacred season, with their heads bowed low in prayers faith,
Then feasting in graces bounty of love.
Blown from heaven is the horn of plenty, by the angels of the lord
Almighty, blessing this table filled with honesty’s joyous festivities,
Humbled in this picturesque display of friendship and devotion
In cherishes memories of celebration, we do reflect in life’s
After glow bathing in its remnants of remembrances of
Slenderly, sliced is this piece of the American Apple pie,
Placed gingerly upon the international feasting tray,
For those to share both homewards and abroad.
In our society of diversity, we are united beneath many
Flags and cultures, yet this is the true meaning
Of this holiday of blessings promise to be
Thankful for our differences and uniqueness,
And to share in loves dream of togetherness.
Stirred in our great American melting pot,
Are color, creed and religious indifference?
To expose the warmth of humanities kindred ship,
And acceptance, blanketed beneath freedom’s
Calling of the stars and stripes liberty bell.
The solders of international valor, lay down their
Arms of war, united in the holiday of life’s brotherhood.
To share the blessings of traditions answer to one
Day know peace at last.
Thanksgiving miracle in truth, is hands crossing over
The shores of ignorance, pulling off the blinders of
Intolerance and bowing our heads in prayer at a broader
Scale’s table of sharing with our fellow man.
United at the family hearth the united kindred do gather,
Heart and home filled with holiday warmth these are
The true blessing of Thanksgiving.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
The System Disk
That wide open plan,
The desktop area so spacious,
A vast canvas so beautiful;
Why do you sit there,
Open to all for their curiosity?
When you to me call.
Oh cupboard, that hard disk brimming with identity,
Memory no problem, even lacking files;
Proficiently organised with raging delight,
Amorous filing system which you employ.
All disks are obvious, seen by me,
Begging to be viewed, added to or changed,
Offering usage stats and permissions,
That are not just the programmer’s privilege,
But any user's decree.
No LOGO, no dos,
No text-based system to beat,
No floppies to be distorted,
By the drives' magnetic wheels.
Encrypted files are offered,
But that requires some introspection,
About whether or not your loved one,
Would really infraltrate your disk,
And read your documents.
My computer is a reflection of me,
My order or my mayhem;
No longer my prowess and endeavour,
‘Cos my articulations are my graft,
Not the machine’s mechanisations.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
KP: With embellishment aborted,
sidewalk and street talk wail from paper.
Tears vividly seen because cursive one's don't wipe away.
An intrinsic institution allergic to plagiarized allegiance,
we're born and bred to bleed blue from womb, and the wound.
Traits of our soul incarcerated in a pen case
presenting selfies that speak volume without an impediment.
Lingual masseuses with mischief marinating, depending on
which taste of epic we prefer.
We write to pulverize color barriers because underneath the shell
tethered laughter is majority. Lumen repair technicians
dimming differences, a cultural mend from cultured men
adjoined through their pen.
Siamese artistes with an umbilical transporting manna from our
third eye to feed the famine.
Brother of mine, break bread with your pen
RL: I too do not wish to embellish
So I place my ear upon the sidewalk of discovery
For I wish to hear the colour of your steps
Our souls are meant to breathe upon paper
The fibres of the papyrus bleed into our convoluted minds
as we give of our panicked moments
Ours is a calmed darkness
A mimicking hope
Yesterday flows over tomorrowed possibilities
as we attempt to rewrite answers to those questions never asked
Differences float above our commonality
So we choose to dive below the surface
For beneath our papered skin resides the hearts of free men
Paper converted by pen becomes flesh
The bond of brotherhood
Tethered between minds
Transported beyond societies perceived differences
For we choose to anoint our spirits in blue ink!
Thanks Keith for joining me in this creative adventure.
It is a pleasure to write with such a talented writer.
Written by: Keith Papyrus & Richard Lamoureux
September 25, 2015
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs
Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus
I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all
I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
A Winters Tear
Latent waves of shimmering vibrations disturb the world,
tossing leaves and forcing grass and trees to weep a lament.
My winters breath is snatched away decimated and lost.
The hidden sun glides the horizon silhouetting the mountains,
grey bubbling clouds smother the raised land with their weight.
Man and beast march head bowed in slow laboured steps,
As if to pass unnoticed like pall-bearers, to the seasons gone.
Passing familiar places they ignore my shuffling gait.
I walk this path of memories each and every day,
sometimes sitting beneath the lonely bridge of dreams.
A winter’s tear blurs my vision, as memories stir my soul,
Visions like scattered diamonds spread out to relive.
Only to trudge on to journeys end and there to rest for awhile,
Where the warmth of my family will shelter and heat my bones.
Seosamh de Burca 21/11/13
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By Deborah Finneran :) 2013
Copyright © Deborah Finneran | Year Posted 2013
Plain Old Country Boy
Steve L. Siegel
I like the smell of clean washed clothes
Hanging on the line, the sound of my blue faded shirts
Snapping in the wind, my sun-bleached blue jeans
All flapping against the bright blue skies.
To wake up with a breeze of an early morning breakfast
On the front porch, the sighting of buck and a doe feeding
In the back of the meadow make my heart race
To be a part of such wonders; I must be living right.
The beauty of Canadian thistles with a smell of mint
Along the stream bed makes for a beautiful song
Gods little fireflies light up twinkling lights of this night
My dog walking close beside me the sad sound of a meadowlark.
What I think I like most of all, is the quiet just before a storm
Right before mother nature tries her best to tear the sky apart with
A firework display of all her own then wind dies down and frogs
With the crickets and with clean fresh smell of earth, tries put me to sleep.
Yep I guess I am just a plain old country boy
That not a bad life, where else would I get to
See things grow and then sway in the wind
Nope, It is not a bad life being an old country boy.
Copyright © Steven Siegel | Year Posted 2015
Before a rainbow appears
there must be a little rain
Before we find true love
we must have a little pain
you might run away from your problems
but your problems still remain
you have to leave the past behind
before you can make a change.
To travel through life successfully
you have to accept life is no bed of roses
and you have to ride the storms
see problems as a challenge
you can learn from
take the bull by the horns.
You can't rely on others
to give you a helping hand
and get on
you may have won a battle
but there maybe a war to overcome.
Life is for living
and serving God up above
to thank him for all he has done
and his love.
Don't put off until tomorrow
what you can do today
or one morning you may wake up
to find it's too late
your old and grey.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2012