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
Stork flights in unison To teach unity to every person
Holding the neck extended Aligning the body as if amended
With legs pushed behind To cope with blowing wind
With wide wingspan like the glider In a well-defined order
Hover with one, as leader Of course, watching is a wonder
With the flame of foresight, Stork sets own nest on height
Bears young ones into the wing Benevolently while growing
With wings, provides shade to the young chick So that they could learn to pick
Causes to clatter to communicate About the impending threat, to indicate
Maintains link with the group To get the team spirit, recoup
Revisits the old-aged-mother To attend to issues that may bother
Cares the mother, with fresh feed As the mother may need
Stork is a bird of highest spirituality
In Hebrew, stork means love and loyalty!
Above poem is from “EAGLE EDUCATES ENDURANCE! AND OTHER POEMS ON NATURE ” by Shri.V.Muthumanickam.
Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan
The nights are coming earlier
and the days are growing shorter.
The frost is on the ground
and bees cannot be found.
The warm days are all but done,
rain, maybe snow has begun.
The trees stand stark almost bare,
you rake dead leaves in the cool crisp air.
Time for the Earth to shutdown,
until Spring comes back around.
Now, begins the football season
and remember to vote with wisdom.
Also time to honor the Veterans
and all the tribes of the Native Americans.
Then, settle down to a Thanksgiving feast,
remembering to praise God at the least.
That I have to post this upsets me:
My poems are copyright. I am sharing my
poems for you to read not for you to
post willy-nilly to a website, in
your newsletter or anywhere else with out
my permission. I am available, leave me a
message. Especially to those who change
the name of my poem and not give proper
credit. You should be ashamed!
Copyright © Alesia Leach
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
The time of great bounty is upon us
soon the ripe laden fields will be picked
the crops gathered, harvest finished
a time of rejoicing, of work well done
Celebrate the cycles, season after season
watch the children's happy laughing faces
as they carry oh so carefully orange candles
a gift to thank mother nature for her bounties
All too soon the nights draw in, frosty is the air
a reminder winter's on her way, all now laid bare
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
My sons eyes opened wide when I pulled on the slide
On the airplanes opening door partition
I had took the time without being sublime
To explain the Reith Family's Thanksgiving tradition
Maybe he had thought it pure jest his bulging eyes processed
As his parachute opened He wore a look of derision
His body had spun His look registered stunned,
Like this was some kind of unreasonable decision
It was expected of the youngest born before Thanksgiving morn
To bring back from the nearest forest
After a mighty and fierce war With piles of blood spilled galore
He registered a look that I mistook
As if my demands were patently absurd
After the last desperate howl of the game but defeated fowl
He would drag the beast back to where we were living
And as hard as he was able slam it down on the dinner table
And holler loudly,
"To all a Happy Thanksgiving"!
Copyright © Donald Reith
I sit by my window
And watch the trees glow
They are lovely to my sight!
I can't ask for more despite.
I behold their leaves; they seem to reach
Something upward like a beseech
For blessings of sunshine and rains
Like praying hands of fettered pains.
(Info about the poem : From ancient wisdom, TREES are symbols of physical
and spiritual nourishment, transformation and liberation, sustenance, spiritual
growth, union and fertility)
Copyright © Wendy Meyer
Tires squeaking from exhaust… high in volume
Racecar spews out smoke…
Blinding the eyes of a thousand fans
Explosions avalanche downwards
Racecar drives fast and furiously
Awesome feelings launch through me
Projecting panic and twisted bliss
Catching the audience’s full attention…
Tension between challengers increase
Who could stand in their way… not even the coaches
Racecar screeches on the racing street…
Ain’t this competition neat? Come! Take a seat!
This event is brilliant – it’s such a treat!
Producing thrill or disappointment…
Car organs, fragments, shards, remains, limbs, veins
Spurts out in flames… flying at every possible direction
Countless racecars… barely functions – this scene is extremely horrendous!
Yet, the victories are gracious!
Vibrant applauses and thanksgiving triggers enlightening cheer
Have no fear!!!
The moment is ever so precious!
Racecar…you make so much racket and suspense!
Rowdiness is in your nature…who will pay the expense??
Copyright © J. W. Earnings
I'm thankful, for the dew resting on the mountain tops and the deep rivers of the valleys.
I'm thankful, for you putting the trees in place and for the birds that nest there.
Thank you Lord, for the changing of seasons and for the way clouds represent this.
Thank you Lord, that when i stop and wonder along the way. I become more thankful for all
you have created and the overwhelming beauty of it all.
Copyright © sarah huburn
"Give thanks for unknown blessings already on
their way" - Native American Saying.
Give thanks for the rain that showers on you,
and makes crops to grow.
Give thanks for the Sun that warms your face,
and makes you to embrace each day.
Give thanks for night,
because we are able to gaze at the starry sky with awe.
Give thanks for the birds,
as they make you to crave to soar.
Give thanks for the rivers and lakes that provide
us with fish and water to drink.
Give thanks for the flowers and butterflies,
that decorate our lives with beauty.
Give thanks for the trees that give us a shade and shelter.
Give thanks for our ancestors, who left us guides on how
to return to the Chief Spirit, and live in harmony with two-legged,
four-legged, crawling and swimming animals; we too are able to be united.
Give thanks for other good things that you haven't yet seen.....
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi
Emirabitur- Shall Admire
There you are the wind of my lone chamber
When I set to keep all mine from ember
And drop where constructs are most eminent,
Where meditativeness is prominent.
Long lost be me, if not for lunar moon
Descend light that fights random hours of groan.
I will for sure unveil silence abode
Where monstrous would have forsaken off-board.
Let’s believe I have found and learnt the muse
The muse which unimpaired and un-abuse;
And fetch, outstretch, inform and un-slumber,
That which eyes will see and bless good comment:
Less of déjà vu and more of neo-pan,
That the rooftops will sit and grant accord.
Friday February 28, 2014
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole
Natural branches sit empty among the lonely pine
Old leaves have fallen from every branch and vine
Vegetation is unable to live, unable to grow
Everyday we can feel the cold wind's blow
Many hunters go out looking for wild prey
Before the bright morning, before the end of day
Every year we have a feast of thanksgiving
Remembering why we must keep on living
Birth date: November 20, 1984
Composition date: August 10, 2015
Copyright © James Cottrell
I do not know?
EARLY MORNING IN THE COUNTRY
The smell of fresh brewed coffee
The sound of bacon slowly sizzling in the pan
And the heady aroma it creates
Homemade biscuits in the oven
Sending the scent of their baking
Into the far corners of every room in the house
A bottle of cane syrup
Made the old fashioned way on Thanksgiving Day
Freshly churned butter for the biscuits once they're done
Mourning doves cooing to each other
Twelve sparrows jockeying for positions
On the nine available perches on the feeder
The sun slowly beginning to peep over the horizon
As if testing the day to see if it's time to rise and shine
Its rays scattering sunbeams through the winter foliage
The frost slowly, almost reluctantly, beginning to melt
Young squirrels scurrying around
Under the centuries old oak tree, searching for acorns
No concrete and steel buildings
No jostling crowds
No cabs, buses, or honking horns
No exhaust fumes
Just me and God and His creation
As He shows me His handiwork
Ah! The beauty, joy, peace, and tranquility
Of early morning in the country
1 February 2010
Copyright © Curtis Moorman
Tradition started long time back
Harvesters celebrate and relax
Attire of satisfaction seeing sack
Never give up spirit sold in packs
Kudos grows with result of work
Semblance of honesty and trust
Gift by Almighty to sow and reap
Ignite lamp of prosperity deep
Victory of heartily carried labour
Innocence cares for love treasure
Nascent to come next year again
Giving selflessly not just to gain
Date to remember not for holiday
Aspiration rather to work and pray
Yearn for prosperity each hour...day
Copyright © Sneha Agarwal
I do not know?
Lord make my light shine,
illuminating Your glory
wich doesn't dwindle in the dark
and is the joy thats set before me.
In this lifes uncertain seas
be the wind set in my sail,
be my compass and my anchor,
for You love me without fail
so I know You'd never wreck me
on this course that You are mapping
or allow me to be plundered,
sunk ,or stranded without captain.
No! I shall not be afraid
wether tempest or high tide
for as sure as You are with me
joy and peace in me abide
so my faith is in Your guidance,
not a storm You cannot still.
So direct me with instruction
I choose Your purpose and Your will.
Even when cloud and dark cover
ever confident I'll be
my soul shall look to its lover
who will ever walk with me.
Copyright © Naldeem Bout
Matzos slip into their mouths
Voices project merrily...tonight is
The night of Unleavened Bread
Lamb and other delicious
Meats and veggies... satisfies our taste buds
What a splendid night it is!
Wine's brewin' in our wine cups
The dinner table - creates pleasant talk
During this meaningful night
There's moments of quietude
When it comes to de-leavening our lives
But, there's moments of gladness
On this night of peacefulness
Cheesecake - a delightful treat to savor
During this night of pure bliss
Copyright © J. W. Earnings
A red, orange, brown fuss
in autumn once more
as fog comes upon us
Halloween ghouls to the door
The trees turning yellows
rains tumult and pour
winds blow cold with a roar
and puddles they widen
until they're almost a lake
then out we need go
for the leaves we must rake
So we dig out our gloves
and we wrap round our scarfs
Then we shop for our loves,
friends and then some other halves
For Christmas approaches
but fireworks come first
as Guy Fawkes encroaches
kids pennies do thirst
Then it's time for the lights
as the children do sing
And Santa's nearly in sight
while the church bells do ring
Then Jesus Christ's birth
we will try to remember
the meaning of 'worth'
on 25th of December.
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty
In the lovely Campanian countryside, amid
verdant hills and mountains...where Virgil
stopped to rest,while jeourneying to visit Cybele's temple,
lie a fertile valley where chestnut and walnut trees
abound...there is hidden the bustling town of my birth!
Narrow streets overlooked by bell towers,
and whenever the sturdy bronze bells ring
in the fragrant air of early spring:
young and old from windows and balconies,
in the twelfth hour, engage
in the sweet thanksgiving prayer...
while the tricolor flags sway in the warmest breeze!
The town's friendly people will welcome you with song,
untill you feel wonderful and touched by all;
this town has seen invasion, pestilences and a dire year...
an almost fatal hurricane that prevented a fierce battle
from being fought during World War II;
was Divine Intervention a factor to be acknowledged?
It spared this town being bombarded by air,
and it saved my mother's life to tell this truth!
God blessed this unknown place,
and sent Mary with the infant Jesus,
four days after He was born,
on a long jeourney through that valley
filled with peace and beauty:
to find a revered and holy mountain...
much closer to Heaven!
And She shed many tears
to give all the dull flowers
a brilliance of their own!
Deep in the hills there was a very special place I choose,
where I would rever the magnificence of the valley...
revealing a superb panorama with the Vesuvius in sight,
was there another creation as magnificent as that ?
And that owesome view perked up my inspiration inside,
teaching my tiny fingers to write with a human heart!
O Baiano, don't strip this name from your walls and stones:
I am a forgotten native who will return before he'll die!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
I do not know?
Autumn is the perfect time of the year.
Turning of clocks one hour is here.
The foliage is so many different colors.
Red, orange and tan leaves drift down
on to the ground.
The tree branches are bare, because
underneath the trees, leafs lay, awaiting
to be raked away.
A colorful collage of dried flowers,
leaves, berries, and gourds, makes a
gorgeous wreath for your door.
Pumpkins are gathered with care,
in hopes of being a Halloween scare.
Pies are made from the pumpkins
insides for a Thanksgiving feast
that will be eat.
Harvested cornstalks makes
fathershalks to decorate
your lawn. While the corn
feeds a many number of
Squirrels scatter about gathering
acorns for a long winters nap.
With other animals eating a lot
of food to hibernate.
When you wake up to a cold
frosted morning. You will
know for sure that autumn
Copyright © Patrica Bowen Salyers
Ginko almost solid yellow
Just a bare touch of green
Means the first frost or freeze
Is nigh on most any night
The color on the horizon
Is nothing spectatcular
Almost a clear sunrise
But the beauty is felt
In the quiet peace
The roosters are just
Softly crowing as if
Their vocal cords are frozen
Sea and land container
And truck go down the
Road and interfer with
Quiet of this glorious morn
Cindy comes around
Wanting me to feed
Her on the cold morning
I shiver she's comfortable
When i first came out onto
The porch there was a bird
That flew from the giant oak
To across the road almost silently
I believe it was the hawk
That has lived down the road
I enjoyed seeing that family
They became part of my life
Sea and land truck goes out
As does one eighteen wheeler
Sea and land hauling old
Machinery to coast to be shipped China
This is from a plant that once
Employed nearly three thousand
Now it is being torn down
After being sold three times
I am getting chilled so I
Must not stay out on the porch
Thank you God for the time
The time that you allowed
Thank you, Thank you
For the warmth of the house
Copyright © Sara Kendrick
Sweat pants and wool socks
a hand-knitted scarf or two
warm mittens and hats
no doubt you think I’m nuts
Rosy cheeks and runny nose
soggy boots and frozen toes
chattering teeth and quivering knees
when I dream, it is of these
Down jackets now long packed away
skis and poles just taking up space
in my crowded messy garage
snow covered runs - just a mirage
Sun screen and flip flops
sunglasses and sticky pits
baseball caps and Thanksgiving in shorts
I despair of weather reports
How did I get to this eternal hell?
where A/C costs you a paycheck as well
where tender skin exposed continues to burn . . .
I just know somewhere I missed a turn.
Copyright © Jill Martin
taken away by the flight
by the primacy of our own life process
we are all flies craving for honey
or we are pebbles—
washed but never get cleansed!
let us not be distracted by
the disappointment of
common human behavior
we have to accept, how things are
or rebel against
and so doing, we make it easy on us
or make it hard
the choice is ours
but both take the same labor:
when the going gets tough
the tough gets going—
our ordinary madness is real
we are all feeble, crabs at times:
rushing to escape out of the bucket
we are kept in eternally
we step on each other
pull down one anther
caught in a stampede
and reach nowhere—
since we walk crabwise!
we are such an orderly chaos—
a gross ENTROPY!
let us listen to the voices
to the crescendo
and climax of nature
that speak the gods’ voice
let us listen
to the moaning and meaning
of love and light
making every single day and night
the voice that transcend
time and space
the voice that comes through
our shared wall of darkness
let us decenter
the dissonance of bad times
the mournful solitary nights
of hunger and sadness
the melancholic fearful days
let us not be distracted
by the disappointment
of common human behaviors,
flaws, greed, unbearable lightness of Being
let us act, let us make peace
let us live in harmony—
half cooked half raw, as we are
let us toss and sip to the top—
to the THANKSGIVING
in love and light…
Copyright © Assefa Dibaba
Most of the nude and swaying countryside
still speaks with sad,shreking and mournful sounds;
its stripped trees are bulky and tepid
as moisture continuously ascends from the languid ground!
Only a pensive,middle-aged man walks
curiously along the wide paths
flanked by jasmine,
and a casual pine:
where the marvis pauses,unmindful
of the gray squirrel!
Yet,incredibly,some shy violets shows
its frosty petals from among the dry,russet leaves;
how unhappy it is from that useless shelter...
regardless of the coming sorrow of its annual fate!
The wandering white-haired man
is very impressed by the tranquil landscape,
and occasionally stops a second,delighted,
to catch a glimpse of the glaring sun!
Some faint voice quivers into the intensifying darkness;
it's heard often...never to dominate the stillness!
Another clearer voice follows after that first one,vibrating:
it's the evening song of thanksgiving!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci