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
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…
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
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, a bird,
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"!
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??
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; 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)
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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!