What does a sapling need to grow?
Is water, sunlight, and soil enough,
or does it need something more?
An ungrateful sapling—
it does not grow.
At what unfortunate hour
did I choose this seed to sow?
What does this sapling need?
An adversarial being.
I wonder what kind of fruit
its ominous seed will bring.
The sapling whispered to itself,
Maybe I need love,
love that doesn’t judge,
love that does not keep score.
The whisper faded into silence.
Maybe I need freedom.
Freedom to remain fruitless or fruitful.
Freedom that feeds the soil
without binding the roots.
The leaves wilt and droop.
The stem begins to peel.
Leaves curl inward.
The sapling can no longer name
what it feels.
It yearns
for what it desires but never receives,
its stem turning brittle
for daring to want.
The sapling no longer feels
anchored to the soil.
Roots that once dreamed
of reaching far and wide
begin to coil.
Take a plane, ungrateful one, to a distant land...
Don't forget to walk the straightest path.
Freedom bogs down quickly in shifting sand.
You may have to cover your body from head to toe.
You may get a lash for dancing with your Beu.
You may get caned for walking alone.
You may be married off to a stranger.
Your worth is measured in skinny cattle and goats.
Walk the straightest of paths, ungrateful one.
Keep your faith close to the vest.
Or you may spend years in prison or even lose your head.
If they find out you're gay, it may be your last earthly day.
When you come back to your host country, ungrateful one.
Will your vision still be opaque and hateful?
Have you gathered any lessons, or are you too stubborn?
Will you still burn- loot- rape - obstruct.
Will you still spit on your freedoms, paid for in blood?
Will your privileged and entitled attitude shift?
Like the shifting sand you just experienced.
Next time, take a one-way plane, ungrateful one
I don't think you'll ever change.
Under the vast domain and beautiful blue skies,
there lie a million plus causes for much gratitude.
None that I have known have reason to be thankless.
Goodness and mercy, says the Psalmist, shall follow me.
With such following, there is no cause for fear, doom,
and gloom. Reaping and harvesting result from sowing.
God's Goodness derives from His good mercies,
giving no cause for ingratitude.
110122PSCtest, Writing Challenge-Unburden a 'U' Word.
Constance La France
Oh, say can you see the land of the freebie
and the home of the ungrateful bleating.
Where borders are blown wide open by vote vamps.
To the glee of coyotes -desperados -the depraved.
Stars and stripes replaced by the heartless-shooting blanks.
Where elitist stick shanks into the faith of good people.
Who're deemed racist for standing for a starry banner... disgraced.
The trinity was tossed long ago into cancel culture canyon.
Were last seen thumbing it down Route 666 in a flash flood.
As the cultists put another bullet in Honest Abe's head.
While looters and rioters and cop killers were martyred.
Working-class stiffs were slit open- bled out from either end...
into the collection plate of the jackass-fascist and Uncle Sham...
Where goodness was woven into the fabric of evil and mayhem.
Upon burning looms of crooked buffoons and bullhorn goons.
In the land of the freebie and the home of the ungrateful dead.
Ten were cleansed, yet one came back to say
"Thank you, Lord, I glorify Your name",
What happened then to the other nine?
They were healed but then went on their way,
Ungrateful men, they remained the same,
Their hearts stayed untouched by love divine,
How often we forget to relay
Our thanks to God for blessings that came?
Change means touched to testify and shine.
05.16.2021
(Not for any contest)
You run...
from pillar to post,
stick your neck out,
bend over backwards
just to satisfy them.
They're "your friends,"
or so you think.
They ask for the moon,
you give it two-fold.
The thanks you get?
Well, they watch you...
brush your pearly-white teeth,
rinse it out with Listerine
so your breath smells...
minty-fresh.
But surprise, surprise!
It stinks to them in your time
of need. Forget the lips;
you don't even get
a kiss on the cheek
for your troubles.
They show you...
zilch appreciation
Not a thank you
for all services rendered.
Come time for them..
to return the favors
They grimace and ask...
"Who are you?"
Sweet.
Submitted for...
It Is What It Is..........Or Is It? Poetry Contest (Winner: 8th Place)
Sponsored by John lawless
Date written: 12/04/2020
T
They're Kicking old lady liberty in the teeth again.
Then demand everything while offering nothing in return.
If America is a broth of systemic racism
then why do people from everywhere risk their lives to get in.
Once they arrive, they want to inoculate us
with the very things they're fleeing from.
Like a child, always begging;
Did I say you're never in thanksgiving;
Always wanting something;
But never praising the Father;
What's the matter you ungrateful...
Like a thief in the night
Taking things that's not yours;
Why? won't you go to work;
Get, a job stop stealing;
Like a spoil child that has a temper-tamper;
I got to have it, got to have this;
Always wanting something;
But never praising the Father;
What's the matter you ungrateful...
You got A job but you want to make $45.00 an hour
Did you go to college for this...
you get A new car but instead of an affordable one you get a German Sports Car
Got to keep up wit the Jones...
What's the matter you ungrateful...
You got a Faithful Godly wife who puts up with your mess and all your
strife
She's gives you a good life yet...
You blink-in, stiffing and breath-in at other women you lust for
What's the matter you ungrateful...
9/16/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Ungrateful Me…
You have been a constant rock and sure support daily;
Extending yourself and your resources to me; unendingly.
Your continued selfless sacrifice I have not appreciated;
Unwavering praise and gratitude I should have chanted.
My thoughtless actions showed I took you for granted;
Fully implying; that your assistance was not needed.
This impression is absolutely not the wholesome truth;
My sincerest apologies; I’ve betrayed the lessons of my youth.
I wholeheartedly say, “Thank you for all that you have done.”
Your love, value and worth to me are second to none.
Thank you for every kind thought, word and deed;
Your rendered help is invaluable; this, my case I plead.
For everything: great and small, I appreciate and cherish;
Your forgiveness and lifelong help is my sincere wish.
End
By: Dion O. Penville
We never appreciate feeling well,
Even when we are sick and swollen
And hurting.
We never appreciate feeling well.
Even when we have been sick for
Ten days with the sorest throat
We have ever had
We never appreciate feeling well
Even after we have had shingles and
Tuberculosis and blubonic
Plague for a year
We never appreciate feeling well
For very long.
And we rarely say
Thank you.
For money he begs,
my heart i gave
but my heart he breaks
because he wanted penny.
To survive, you need heart
to bear burdens in life's cart,
my heart i gave,
but your wants are many.
I gave you time
my private life,
myself, my time,
but you wanted delicious blenny.
I got a fetish for neglecting things that I should cherish.
Once I realize its true value, those moments have already perished.
Who's at fault when our time becomes essence-less?
When we begin to question our coexistence.
How do we make each moment resemble something of elegance?
Time must be at our mercy because time is merciless.
Forgive my sins and all my sins that may become friends.
The time I have left only depends.
Many circumstances. Moments left up to chances.
I surrender to pessimistic thoughts on multiple occasions.
Only make moves when motivation is provided by mental persuasion.
Or when exteriors give me a motive.
Sometimes I fail to see the reason for the worth of pursuance.
Coagulated thoughts then become a nuisance.
Time never waits, so I watch time with prudence.
So maybe my time can be continued, rather than in conclusion.
Without them I’d tip
Fall and perhaps break my nose
Yet still I stub them
If my child came to me in need
with confidence that I would heed
his plea, responding right away,
giving my help without delay,
if then he took my gift and left,
would I not feel a bit bereft
if he gave no more thought to me
until one more emergency?
Is that not how I treat my Lord,
taking him at his loving word,
beseeching when the need is there,
forgetting him when times are fair?
Dear Lord, I come with hat in hand,
to let You know I understand
that You are there through thick or thin,
whether I lose or if I win.
So now, right now, upon my knee,
I'm thanking You for helping me
through sorrows and admitting too
the days I have forgotten You.
I long to be the grateful one
acknowledging all that You have done.
Ungrateful World
Afternoon the sky was blue to the point of banality and
clouds are silk dreams are made of when I saw a rat
cross the village road; it was aiming for the overgrown
garden where the house is for sale.
Later the neighbour´s cat jumped through the flap
sniffed the air and stalked into the same garden as
the rodent. A commotion, a tussle, a faint scream and
the feline came out with a rat in its mouth.
With its catch it jumped back through the flap and
dropped it on the kitchen floor. A high pitched scream
from the woman in the house, the door flung open she
had a broom in her hand chasing out the hapless cat.
The mog jumped on top of a wall where it sat waiting
for the upheaval to die down; you can´t show kindness
to humans, here I´m catching a tasty rat for the lady of
the house and she hits me with a broom.
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