Giving Thanks 2018

[RhymeLovingWriter]

leaves-263943_640.jpg

(not my leaves - but aren't they beautiful?)



Giving Thanks 2018


sweet

flits amid bitter

thanks

bores against pain


again


again

we walk


frame to frame

reeling...


starring role to extra

dealing...


dealt with,

felt,

shared,

or spent alone


honed

perfection


resurrection



waiting on the wing

[Parkinsonspoet]

Sparse but not a word wasted very beautiful

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Thank you kind sir. Host of new feelings this year. But still feeling - so that's good.

[Neil Thomas Fellows]

I wish I could be as confidently concise.

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Oh I have my rambling days too! Look at some of my older posts.

[grant hayes]

As with every form you try, you show yourself a master of the lean structure here. The pauses are perfectly placed, making for a wonderful incantatory effect. This is a gratitude with great resonance.

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Thank you Grant - kind assessment indeed! Happy Thanksgiving!

[AlexandratheLate]

This is beautiful Paula. So few words say so much.

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Thank you Alex. I'm not often on this side of the page (few words), so am enjoying that this worked. Happy Thanksgiving!

[amenOra]

Thank you, and Happy Late thanksgiving. I can really appreciate this poem... reminds me of a crystal, having crystalline qualities, the spacing, yes!

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Thank you amenOra - I have much to learn about using spacing and other formatting techniques to lend emphasis - or clarity - when versing. I'm glad it worked for you on this one. Happy Thanksgiving to you too!

[Johntee]

Hold on to the Happy Thought
through you other lives
are wrought.

from last year
Coming Shortly 24^th Nov. 2017

A heatless sun
bids me say "In the scale, tell pray,
Autumn, what's left of its' worth,
four weeks to the shortest day?"
Leaves, that only knew the sky,
crisped and trailed to sodden earth
corrupting slow in cold decay
while Winter turns the year to clay
awaiting greening Spring's rebirth
so I'm forced to ask "In the scale, pray
tell, Solstice, what does it weigh?"

and this your gift to me

It weighs as light as pleasure born
of 'no-school' gift on snowy morn
Or scaled to sadness, hard to own
when drifts trap one poor soul alone
Perhaps in middling field it rests
as moistured blanket, welcomed guest;
Or howling fierce as nature's pawn
displaces tons from dusk to dawn

whatever form or weight sets tare
we brace for bite - and then forbear

and still I'm having to find thanks.

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Thank you JT - this is gift to me - remembering what I daily forget but must have known long enough to send response to your query.

It's all wrapped up together - the questions, the answers, the laughter, the tears, the gratitude, the grinchiness - keep the turning going and we'll see it new each day.

Happy Thanksgiving!