Poetry competition CLOSED 26th November 2018 6:33am
WINNER
MadameLavender
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What Are You Thankful For?

snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States 77awards
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1873

MadameLavender said:It’s The Little Things….


Yeah, of course I’m thankful
for the obvious—
life,
family,
etc….

But I have to tell you
I am super blessed
to be the proud owner
of my own Hoover Steam Vac.

Countless, are the times
that thing has saved my ass
each time a cat puked
and it was a race to clean the carpet
before my (ex) husband saw it
and unleashed a barrage of  
ugly opinions
from his narcissistic ivory tower.

I’m also thankful for divorce lawyers.

I still shampoo my carpets regularly
but it’s actually enjoyable now,
feline vomit, or not.

It’s the little things, you know?

Like Easy Off oven cleaner—
I am so amazed
(and thankful!)
at how that stuff erases the bathtub grime
right off, as soon as you spray it on.

I have time, now, to go for a walk
and marvel at the splendor of nature
and the hidden things of Creation, because
I’m not scrubbing the bathroom
in even half the time, I used to.

It’s definitely the little things….

Speaking of your steam cleaner; can you imagine what life was like before appliances?
Bad enough to be without a dishwasher, but life without a washing machine...ugh!

snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States 77awards
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1873

Lane said:always thankful for the rain [I love]
and memories.  [ I`m always thankful for those, good and bad ]

I`m out today in the world,
the winter rains just a thing for the day.

my hands are warm, but the collar down
and I had that thought of you.

My mind reaches back,
god I remember.

Do you think of me
in your Winter rains?

I think of you..
rain is that way sometimes.

People who curse the rain need realize in a world of expanding deserts, every drop is a blessing.

snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States 77awards
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1873

Gratitude

Not often enough
do I express thankfulness
so many blessings
i do not know where to start
and when I should ever end
Written by TIG
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TIG said:
Gratitude is a rare virtue in today's selfish world.

EleazarSwan
Twisted Dreamer
United States 2awards
Joined 11th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 42

New Mercies

Who can make a brand new day?
Or let the sun shine down on man?
Who can light a single ray?
Or give us each a perfect plan?
God alone will weigh the heart
For truly it is God to start
I thank my God for life and thee
And freedom underneath the tree
For chirping birds and summer rains
For autumn leaves and winter pains
For trials lead to victory
And tribulation sets us free
I count it joy, and knowing fully
None, to me, can be a bully
For He who makes the dawn his friend
And wraps the dusk until the end
Keeps creation in the palm
And brought to men the perfect balm
Health and healing, through his death
Brought to man his newfound breath
Written by EleazarSwan
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slipalong
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom 41awards
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 822

The well that never dries

I rub my eyes
and yawn so wide
I fidget and I feel so tired
the five inch heels compacting all my nails

I try to smile
try to go the extra mile
yet inside I feel so vile
to give in now would be to fail

my dream just to know it waits
its sturdy frame and trusty legs
in that coocon to meditate
with snooring that reverberates

to lay your weary aching bones
the sheep will come to count like clones
the lulabys your mother hums
just REM till morning comes

Written by slipalong
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snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States 77awards
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1873

New Mercies

Who can make a brand new day?
Or let the sun shine down on man?
Who can light a single ray?
Or give us each a perfect plan?
God alone will weigh the heart
For truly it is God to start
I thank my God for life and thee
And freedom underneath the tree
For chirping birds and summer rains
For autumn leaves and winter pains
For trials lead to victory
And tribulation sets us free
I count it joy, and knowing fully
None, to me, can be a bully
For He who makes the dawn his friend
And wraps the dusk until the end
Keeps creation in the palm
And brought to men the perfect balm
Health and healing, through his death
Brought to man his newfound breath
Written by EleazarSwan
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EleazarSwan said:
The Lord giveth and taketh away.  May he/she keep giving us a bit of joy even on in our darkest days.

snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States 77awards
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1873

snugglebuck said:
The Lord giveth and taketh away.  May he/she keep giving us a bit of joy even on in our darkest days.


Great bedtime read. 🌙

poet Anonymous

ReggiePoet
Reggie
Fire of Insight
28awards
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 357

Related submission no longer exists.

EleazarSwan
Twisted Dreamer
United States 2awards
Joined 11th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 42

snugglebuck said:

Great bedtime read. 🌙


Well said, thank you for the competition

poet Anonymous

<< post removed >>
ClearmindedVillain
Thought Provoker
United States 1awards
Joined 29th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 69

Found Thanks

Within myself I enjoy the rides.
The speed of things isn’t important it’s making strides.
Any story of anything always exist with two sides.
Standing at the edge of the water in the sand embracing the tides.
Thanks to my passions for reminders of how I got here.
I try to reside fully present within always facing fear.
Written by ClearmindedVillain
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Blackwolf
I.M.Blackwolf
Tyrant of Words
13awards
Joined 31st Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 3572

Tankful Of Deep Thankful

Attention Retention Tension When You Mention Memory
 
As Though I Should Remember Everything I Decree For Me
 
I Got A Supplementary Directory For My Daily Reverie
 
An Energy Dispensary For My Brain Train Mental Treasury
 
But I Got A Tankful Of Deep Thankful For This Long Ride  
 
Every Day I've Been Ensouled In This Mortal Body Outside
 
Every Time I See Love And Light In Some Young Child's Eyes
 
Every Time I Am Amazed By A World Where I Am Still Surprised
 
I Give Thanks For Coyote's Pranks That Tell Me What Not To Do
 
I Give Thanks For Every New Realization And Every New Clue
 
I Give Thanks For Every Spark Of Non Rude Human Gratitude  
 
And I Give Thanks For Those Imbued With Compassionate Attitude
 
And I Give Thanks For The Ranks Of Those Standing Still Strong  
 
Reminding Us This Is A World Unfurled In Which We All Belong
 
And I Give Thanks For The Muse And The Sacred Art Of Poetry
 
So Totally Word Symmetry Geometry That Allows Me To Be Free !
Written by Blackwolf (I.M.Blackwolf)
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eswaller
Dangerous Mind
United States 30awards
Joined 22nd Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 749

Thankful For...

The muse that makes every morning more bearable.
All the hugs and kisses that are keeping me stable.
The whispers behind my back that are making me
Grateful for every kind word. When someone sees
Me for the mess that I am, but is continuing to love
Me anyways. To know that the bright world is full of
Harshness and darkness, but there is knowledge that
There is a smile behind the clouds. The quiet and flat
Laughter turning into sunny merriment coming down
The long hallways. When it felt like you could drown
In sorrow and sadness, but the smell of roses turns
That frown into bright eyes. All the scars and burns
Beginning to repair or heal themselves. The tears
That are drying all on their own and all of the fears
That make me strong. The women who came before
And paved the path for me to follow. Hearing my roar.
Written by eswaller
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PoetsRevenge
Dangerous Mind
United States 28awards
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 706

Cemetary Walk In November

‘ This is what it is to be complete,
  it is horrible.’
                           -Sylvia Plath


Kicking through leaves
the whitened stones unannounce themselves
to rushing air, quiet, unreckoned,
pandering to a deceased moment
which endlessly repeats its
howling, repentant song.

I am never coming back, it says,
who would, not here, not ever.
Underfoot I notice trampled clothes
and a belt, an opened packet of something,
a whiskey bottle freezes gradually to
the patchy ground.
How unholy, lifes oblivions to
your finality, your unjaded completion.

To be complete, to lie wholly under
a white sheet resting in a
permanent scowl
unremembering its cause or reason
waiting for something more to happen,
something ceremonious.

Laughing children from afar
know not the meaning of this place,
their relation to it, their connection.
Their outcomes are chirping birds yet
cheerfully dropping leaves
among the fixed testaments to
endgames witnesses ---

Black lace flowing,
flags folded,
napkins clenched,
holes in the ground.
Everything is so geometrically perfect
like it knew itself ahead of time,
planned for its occasion.
A black pillbox hat
with netting to keep insects out
as clear vision took in the spectacle.
Men with shoulders bent
praying in mindful questioning.
When will I go, whom will be next,
whom here is the eldest, does it matter?

But you wouldn’t know of any of it now,
at midday, Sun’s corona creating an
oasis of shade under small, deliberately planted trees,
it is a sort of serene elyssium here.

Where are the mourners?
they are on to more important matters,
things, things which clatter,
breaking the silence of unknowing,
the torture of chiseled names, dates,
daily opened and closed gates,
fencing in nothing which matters any longer.
Some sort of underground bunker with an
above ground door looms, almost welcoming.
Is this some sort of threshold between
the living and dead?

Nothing etched here will sway any election,
stretch any boundary lines, move any masses,
kill or birth anything.
Even a worm will not fatten on anything
not already here naturally
and a bird will eat it regardless
long before it is stepped on and crushed
by footsteps infrequent.

Here is a tiny flag flapping over
a plaque in the ground,
grass mounding around it.
There are so many of them,
incalculable and featureless.
Nothing gives them away from a distance.
They sink into a forgotton realm,
a netherworld of dusty, unread life’s volumes,
spines faded, bleached by sun streaming
through a keyhole of spotty illuminations
of floating dust in the back of the worlds mind
where it backfiled these stories
of the goodbyes
waving goodbye.

We give thanks for all we
have overcome in overlooking
what permanent reminders exist,
static and still
unchanging and terminal.

The dead thanks you ---
"Please forget me, I never was set on
anything really, in the end I accepted
this place of nothing, this peace,
your moving on,
what still remains burns you, living one,
not me.  In theory I am free.
You must live with what you think of me
and I must live with nothing but stale air
I cannot even attempt to breathe.
I no longer have to try,
but you must continue to walk forward,
lurching, reaching, gasping headlong
into the fray."

As I turn to go, I freeze white,
face blasted to crystals of ice.
A cold recollecting of a story oft repeated,
told by the bitter wind.

           ......
Written by PoetsRevenge
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