2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 24

Happy Thanksgiving (for all people who celebrate Thanksgiving)! For all people who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, happy fourth Thursday of the month of November. Unfortunately, we had to call off the Thanksgiving trip we had planned to Ohio (some last minute kid sickness), but we’re still having a good time in Georgia. Have a great day, everyone!

For today’s prompt, write a gathering poem. The gathering could be a family gathering, but also about any other gathering–whether human or not. Yes, that really opens things up, doesn’t it? By the way, thank you, everyone, for constantly gathering here to poem. I am truly thankful for all of you.

Here’s my attempt:


Not everyone has a brother
who chases storms for a living or
a father on the Republican
primary ballot in New Hampshire
and who posts videos on Facebook
he tries to tie in with his topic,
which has something to do with orb rights
or the Mayan calendar, but most
people have family they can bear
for a few hours on the fourth Thursday
of every November as they
eat up their fair share of comfort food.


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

Find out what I’m most thankful for at My Name Is Not Bob.


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248 thoughts on “2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 24

  1. a.paige

    *Thanksgiving Gathering.

    Bitter gripes churning
    deep beyond turkey and stuffing
    ready to burst its fillings
    at any moment’s rousing
    as the gravy goes around
    before polite smiles.

    *Betrayal At The Gathering.

    No thanks, turkey.
    I have my stuffing here.
    Just please pass the gravy.


    That I can see the warm familiar faces…
    I’m thankful for my eyes.

    That I can hear the warmth in their voices…
    I’m thankful for my ears.

    That I can hold their warm embrace…
    I’m thankful for my arms and hands.

    That I can walk or run an extra mile and jump for joy or kneel for warmth…
    I’m thankful for my legs.

    That I can taste the delicious warmth of foods…
    I am thankful for my mouth.

    That I can think of thoughts to warm my heart…
    I am thankful for my mind.

    That I can feel those warm thoughts…
    I am thankful for my heart.

    That I can choose to warm others…
    I am thankful for my life.

    That I have others than myself…
    I am thankful for them.

    That I have them…
    I am thankful for you, the giver of life.

  2. Kit Cooley

    Flight Plan

    I have started gathering feathers:
    Raven, chicken, jay and goose,
    Grouse, if I can find them, dove
    And warbler. This deliberate collection,
    weightless pile, in a basket, waiting,
    for the chance to once again
    take to the air, and fly.

    Bring together all the colors,
    All the textures, like the people
    In my life, separated by time,
    And space, and season, yet
    Woven, stitched and beaded,
    In one hand, can send
    Sacred smoke and blessings,
    To all my relations.

  3. Genevieve Fitzgerald

    Under one heaven
    Under one roof
    Under the spell of
    The Sunday-spread table

    Old tales dusted off
    For the next generation
    Passed around
    With the squash and the bread

    Recipes shared
    Alongside family secrets
    With facts and ingredients
    In equal parts subject

    To revision, improvement,
    Forgetfulness and redemption
    When we are all

  4. leatherdykeuk

    Princess and The Pea

    She turns around and around
    around and around,
    scraping blankets into a pile,
    gathering them into a heap
    fit for a princess to sleep in.

    There are no peas beneath her
    just me, huddled, shivering, as she steals the duvet,
    for what is a human’s comfort,
    when the dog is cold.

  5. Connie Peters

    I Give Them All to You

    I gather up my gifts and joys
    The many blessings You provide
    My wants and needs and even toys
    I give them gladly all to You

    I gather up my strengths and dreams
    My talents and abilities
    I gather up my plans and schemes
    I give them gladly all to You

    I gather up my fears and sorrows
    All my failures and my pain
    I gather up my angst and worries
    I give them gladly all to You

    I gather up my songs and praise
    My adoration and my love
    I gather up my life and ways
    I give them gladly all to You

  6. DanielAri

    “Art Hill, 1950”

    The same
    blankets, style of sandwiches,

    relish, hats,
    and piquant greetings

    faced them
    every warm enough weekend.

    Uncles Nate, Herman, Sam;
    Aunts Celie, Toots, Goldie

    the sandwich middle
    with the old folks sitting stiller

    and the cousin count
    at thirteen and rising

    plus the privileged
    neighbors and colleagues

    who become adjunct
    to the tribe.

    Define family
    and you must mention time.

    To this day,
    there’s one grown child

    who tries to keep the picnic
    from blowing away.

    That’s my mom
    with her veins full

    of sun-seasoned nectar.

  7. taylor graham


    On the Commons they were burning
    books. No, they were only
    burning the book-readers’ eyes, and it was
    only temporary. The blinded eyes
    saw a collective, entire light
    as if each eye became a candle.
    You could see the Commons from miles
    away, across rice-fields and marsh.
    Wild geese and wintering cranes woke
    to a midnight dark, gathered
    together and took wing for lands of light.
    When the readers opened their eyes
    and mouths, they spoke in the tongues
    of flame.

  8. pomodoro


    They steal in for a taste of lettuce and danger,
    marauders among frilly crinolines tipped with burgundy, ruby and chartreuse.
    Our eyes make conversation as they nibble at the leafy factory,
    an assembly line of crunchy pods, sweet flowers and twining tendrils.
    Nearby peppery cress and sassy mustard keep the long-eared rascals at bay.
    I finger the Asian mizuna, its leaves like hardy warriors, ribbed and red-flushed,
    that defend citrus bursts of lemony sorrel from the furry rogues.
    Stalwart chicory and radicchio, too, deter the winsome invaders
    that hop among slender crescents of fennel.
    Nearby curls of escarole border jaunty cut-and-come-again beds,
    a tasty assortment for the trespassers’ decadent buffet.
    A twitch and a flick ruffle the jeweled mosaic.
    At once the bandits and I spy the brassica,
    sweeter after the first frost,
    a heartless cabbage that prefers winter’s chill,
    but tenders dessert for the punks of the garden.

  9. Domino

    This is brief and (sort of) tongue-in-cheek. We must hit the road – pie delivery to my family here in Phoenix, then off to take pie to Tucson to visit hubby’s family for the feast. Happy Thanksgiving, to those of you who celebrate it!


    Let us pray that
    we gather today in
    a labor,
    the way moles do,
    but not in
    the manner of bears,
    in a sloth.

    Let us pray that
    we gather today in
    a convocation
    the way
    eagles gather,
    but not in
    a plague
    in the manner
    of locusts.

    Let us pray that
    we gather today in
    an exaltation,
    the way larks
    and not as crows do,

    Diana Terrill Clark

  10. Jane Shlensky

    This is an old post from Day 12 about excess, but it’s the first thing I thought of today and it’s singable. Happy Thanksgiving, my poetic friends. It’s time for me to get that bounty on the table.

    Irony (to the tune of “We Gather Together”)

    Let’s gather together and eat all our blessings,
    Fall into food comas and wake to dessert;
    Then file onto deck chairs the weather permitting
    And watch our kids playing while we reassert
    Our dissatisfaction with life in our country,
    Economy-onomy woe and despair;
    We’ll outline our poverty, rivaling each other,
    Then go in for seconds, belts loosened with care.

  11. Jane Shlensky

    Book Club Clean

    I have one hour to put things right
    by which I mean gathering the strays
    and moving the stacks I don’t know where,
    but chairs must be made ready for sitting
    and tables used for food this time.

    Chapbooks and dog-eared anthologies crowd
    one chair like children climbing over an auntie’s lap,
    two novels on a table discuss Amazon and Appalachian
    adventures, and here a box of new books climb out
    of their nest looking for uncharted floor and table space.

    Bible Study fights with music for an end table
    by the piano, the dining table hosts klatches
    of books just finished or perused, library books
    to be returned, like house guests of my boys.
    On favorite chairs and bedside tables

    lounge my current reads, several at once,
    some meat and potatoes, others wine
    and berry pie, one or two whipped cream,
    but all tasty, still needing to be moved
    so my book club won’t think I’ve gone native

    darkly maniacally reading while cats chew
    at the walls, my husband atrophied in some back room,
    smothered and forgotten under tons of books.
    I’ve got to excavate, so they won’t look at me
    with sad and sympathetic eyes, blessing my heart

    for being a fanatic, reading rather than living life.
    I have one hour to put things right the way so many
    houses are, well ordered and tasteful—balanced!
    One hour to make this space a place where reading
    friends can gather and give attention to one book.

    1. PKP

      Jane – I am literally typing with my eyes closed. Too much bright screen too many words- but could not sleep until I just wrote KUDOS dear Jane – my father would have said you have a “command of the English language” I would say a shared love affair.. each of your poems exquisite 🙂

  12. Mary Mansfield

    Pilgrimage to Parkersburg

    For our family, in November
    All roads led to West Virginia,
    To Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving.
    The first few to venture downstairs
    In the predawn quiet
    Would find Grandma in her armchair,
    Coffee in hand,
    Chesterfield smoldering in the ashtray,
    Tosha pacing around her feet.
    He would permit a few ear scratches
    Before retreating with a regal yowl
    That only a Siamese can muster.
    After few more cups of coffee
    And a few more sets of helping hands awoke,
    The final dinner preparations would begin.
    As the turkey was washed and stuffed
    And the potatoes peeled,
    We would share our stories,
    The ones retold often enough
    To become our family’s mythology:
    Aunt Rose’s bean catastrophe,
    How Uncle Ronald rescued Muffin as a kitten,
    The time Grandma undercooked the holiday ham
    And hid behind the refrigerator in shame.
    Through the laughter and the chopping and the endless dishes
    Our bonds grew stronger
    As we added new stories to the family mythology.

    Today Thanksgiving still finds me awake before dawn,
    Coffee in hand,
    Cigarette smoldering in the ashtray,
    And I feel Grandma’s presence at my own table
    Much like at hers all those years ago.
    Through the chopping and the endless dishes
    She whispers her stories to me,
    And our bond, though tinged with sadness,
    Is still as strong as ever
    As I help add new stories to our family’s mythology.

  13. PKP

    Empty chairs around white linen

    We used to pick up Bubby 
    Drive into city traffic
    And at evening’s end 
    Drive back through city
    Traffic she with the drumstick
    She loved in her bag returned
    Home to sleep in her insisted 
    Own bed
    Leaving behind a ceramic clown
    For cotton balls a gaudy Statue of 
    Liberty pin or like gifted treasures

    We used to have my father debonair
    Hair thick a wave dipping close grazing
    Left eye usually winking at one of
    The girls or Bubby

    We used to wait for Mother platinum
    hair sparkling laughing and drawing a
    deck of cards from a good leather bag
    that never left her lap for any takers
    from turkey coma’d marks

    We used to have my mother long fingered
    pulling at the turkey  –  cigarette in her mouth
    dangling surreptitious ashes that never fell

    We used to have controlled chaos
    Stories spilling onto into one another
    As the inevitable child dripped something
    Stainful onto the white tablecloth
    Fresh and forgiven then
    Faded and storied the next
    We used to have –
    Now we remember
    And give thanks 
    with a moist eye
    Reading the faint forever
    Past on the white linen of today      

      1. PKP

        Whoa! … and I took a break just at the same moment you posted! Happy Thanksgiving….sharing the same wavelength…to those here and those who are now our thanksgiving stories…. A Happy Thanksgiving :). Signing off until later 🙂

      1. PKP

        High praise coming from you Alfred – your images always stop me – I am writing with eyes half closed against the brightness of the screen – Thank you- so much appreciated. 🙂

  14. Marianv

    We gather together…

    But not very often.
    Our lives are too busy
    We say to ourselves.

    We might gather in stadiums
    To cheer for our home team
    That is made up of strangers
    Who we never know.

    Our families scatter all over
    The country. Electronics will
    Let us tell one another
    Whatever it is we want
    Them to know.

    News spreads rapidly, just not
    The whole story. Others will
    Choose what they want us to know.

    So we contact, not gather
    Our far-away families
    Sending our messages
    Of love and good cheer…

    Without ever feeling
    Touching and stroking

    Wiping the tears –
    From wide, shining screens.

  15. Marie Elena

    Gathering (A sonnet)

    Though through the years the setting may have changed
    Though some have passed from this life to beyond
    May no one feel the sting of heart, estranged
    May nothing shake the core of family’s bond.

    Though seasons ebb and flow, to make life brief
    And unapologetically steal health,
    May none of us abandon our belief
    In strength of kin – as therein lies our wealth.

    For in God’s providence, He sets our path.
    He knows our every thought, our own regrets.
    And even though at times we show our wrath,
    May we forgive, as Christ forgives our debts.

    All praise to God for blessings He bestows,
    An ever-present help amidst life’s woes.

    1. Marie Elena

      Thanks for the kind comments, all! The sonnet is my absolute favorite form, yet it takes me a long time to write one. This one took me a good portion of the morning. I ponder, write, erase, rewrite, ponder some more over dishes, ponder more in the shower, write, erase, rewrite …. I have no tolerance for forced rhyme, or hiccups in the flow. I envy those of you who create so quickly.

  16. Nancy Posey


    From miles and hours away, they begin,
    calling, sending notes, touching base—
    a reminder that even when we gather
    in smaller groups this year, cooking
    in kitchens in several states, sitting to eat
    at many tables, giving thanks, heads
    bowed, not able to make eye contact
    this year across an over-filled plate,
    we will be joined in our thanksgiving.
    Our blessings, spread farther this year,
    do not spread thin. Our gratitude
    for love unbroken by time or space
    reaches back to touch them too,
    offering blessing from our small table,
    simple joy that transcends words.

  17. JanetRuth

    Gathered here…
    Longing, love
    Victory, defeat
    Joy, sorrow
    Hope, fear
    Gathered here…
    Ecstasy, anguish
    Right, wrong
    Pleasure, pain
    The past, the unknown
    Gathered here…
    Hunger, contentment
    Laughter, a sigh
    Freedom, bondage
    Hello, good-bye
    Gathered here…
    In a tear

  18. jane hoover

    Gathering Close

    we awaken each
    morning, more and more,
    filled with gratitude

    for our place in this
    space, family of grace

    so many of you
    someway in our day
    both far and near now

    thanksgiving day comes~
    ~our thoughts fly to you

    shared words, memories
    some games once in play
    still, a location

    life bright with sunlight
    sparkle on dew and you

    knowing family and friends
    are family and friends
    wherever we eat

    Jane Penland Hoover
    November 24, 2011

    Prompt # 24 Thanksgiving Poem

  19. JanetRuth

    Where Moments Gather…

    Far away it seems to me
    An ocean must exist
    Of moments floating to a sea
    In rivers full of mist
    And if I should by some strange lead
    Find its elusive thread
    Then I could watch moments recede
    As Time flows on ahead

    And in this gathering place of sighs
    Of smiles and hugs and tears
    We would never say good-bye
    Nor count the days and years
    Until at last we meet again
    For moments would not slip
    Like whispers on an autumn wind
    From longing fingertips

    If I, by some strange twist of rhyme
    Found its reclusive track
    Would I first rush ahead of time
    Before I could turn back?
    For what of all those moments lost
    In heartbeats caught between?
    Do moments slip into the past
    Or shape the unforeseen?

    Far away it seems to me
    An ocean must exist
    Of moments drifting to its sea
    In gatherings of mist
    For time is an ethereal tide
    Relentlessly it goes
    I simply cannot quite decide
    Which way its river flows

  20. PKP


    I have gathered the bread egg potatoes veggies
    Turkey cranberried sauce turnips and such
    kneaded ingredients with bare knuckled glee
    await the now grown nestling to return flying
    home here with me to be

    To all who celebrate Thanksgiving
    Have a happy with and to you and yours and to echo
    Robert’s sentiments to those here who do and to those here who don’t
    Our own special PA day without whom each in this community of rhythm if not here
    Hmmmmm “won’t”
    Well that worked in my head flowed out just fine
    But you all get the point at my table of thanks for all of you gratitude mine
    So these rhymes are clumsy a feature you see
    Of a mind that is filled with the scent of just stuffed turkey!

    Enjoy the day!
    Write on 🙂

  21. JanetRuth

    Gathered Thoughts

    The gathering of notes
    Composes heart-stopping music
    The gathering of words; a poem
    The gathering of cares
    Hearts of worry or prayers
    The gathering of family; a home
    The gathering of memories
    Makes quilts, or memoirs
    The gathering of harvest; hope
    The gathering of raindrops; puddles
    The gathering of dirt; a slope
    Where autumnal trees are gathered
    In a breath-taking display
    The gathering of lips; soft kisses
    To soothe our misgivings away
    The gathering of you in my arms completes me
    As fingers and thoughts intertwine
    But death, oh death, gathers old and young
    To recall what was gathered in Time

  22. RASlater

    The funeral

    We gather together
    After so long apart
    Scattered across the globe like confetti
    Drawn together this day
    For reasons we do not want
    Bearing unspeakable pain
    We hold our chins high
    And link our arms together
    Knowing that we are only a strong
    As our weakest link
    Whom we will not leave behind
    Because family sticks together
    Through thick and thin
    Each taking a moment alone
    We say goodbye
    To a brother lost to us
    Gone ahead on life’s next journey
    But then we gather back together
    Stronger together than alone

  23. Hannah


    Grateful I string
    Vibrant things
    Gold, crimson
    Autumn awe
    Burst of berry
    I gather here
    All that enlivens
    Sprig of pine
    vine and strand
    Cobalt beads
    Bits that bind
    Wishful wisp
    Daring dream
    Fine white feather
    Solid stone.
    I’ll gather here
    Words to weave
    With simple hand
    Heart and thought
    Golden thread
    Woven intricately
    Vein of Love
    Inspiring all
    Thankfully I gather
    All things meaningful
    Soulful and quiet,
    Questions unanswered
    Mysterious basket



    I’m so grateful for all of you, my dear, poetic friends!! This experience is and has been such a blessing! Happy day to you all with warm “Hannah,” smiles to each and every one of you!

  24. Linda Rhinehart Neas


    They come from all sides!
    Some sneaking up like covert spies,
    others, screaming their battle cry
    like the warriors of old, in hopes of scaring
    the opposite side.
    But, these cries fall gently on my heart,
    as I scoop up little bodies
    that throw themselves at me
    with the abandon of the fearless.
    “Nana!” is their cry, love their weapon.

  25. viv

    Gathering all my scraps together
    I play with them in separate heaps,
    place one shade against another.
    Sometimes they clash: I start again,
    throw them about in bright array –
    patterned fabric allied with plain
    small pieces juxtaposed with large
    until a design starts to emerge
    When a happy combination comes –
    like an autumn festival of leaves –
    the quilt design is as good as made.

    As I put the finishing touches on the crumb quilt I’ve been making for my daughter’s campervan, the first response to spring to mind for PAD 24 was a patchworking one. A crumb quilt is one made from the smallest scraps, bits of superfluous blocks, and is generally a pain in the altogether to put together. Bias edges stretch every which way and geometry was never my strong point anyway.

    If you go to my blog you will find a picture as well! http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com

    1. JanetRuth

      I love the name ‘crumb quilt’! I think these quilts are so full of character. I tried to piece one years ago but my patches looked more like elfin-hats, which has given me a new respect for those who piece them smoothly!

    2. Linda Rhinehart Neas

      I never heard of a crumb quilt…what a great name! Sounds like what my family calls a crazy quilt…made with the scraps the way they are without cutting the edges…talk about a geometric nightmare! Happy Thanksgiving, Viv…I am thankful for your poems!

    3. Alfred Booth

      My mothered coined our family phrase “painintheass”, pronounced elegantly “pa-nin-the-us” with “th” like “with.”

      That being said, I loved the images in our poem. I appreciate the childlike simplicity.

    4. PSC in CT

      I like this poem! Your quilting process works just as well for describing the assembling of a poem too! 😉 And the quilt came out beautiful — love the colors! 🙂

  26. JanetRuth

    Gathering Season

    We gather our blooms of purple and gold
    Knowing too soon their petals will fold
    In fragrant teardrops, its seeds are cast
    To spawn the future from the past

    We gather in our hearts the music of laughter
    Childish delight drifting to twilight’s rafter
    Where starlight pins to the close of a day
    The awareness that too soon this slips away

    We gather our tears of life’s joy and its sorrow
    Holding loved ones near; they may be gone tomorrow
    We gather breath-moments of invaluable worth
    To the vault of our memory; rare treasures of earth

  27. mikeMaher

    An Unattractive Gathering of Words

    Shortly after his death
    everyone gathered around to hear about the billionaire
    who named his company after his favorite fruit farm,
    part cleverness, part flair, part asshole,
    almost never wore shoes.
    If you read some poets long enough
    you can find the parts where they quote themselves
    without giving credit.
    And if only I could read you
    and understand any of the language
    you use in facial expressions, text messages,
    even what you choose not to say
    or the way you choose to not say the things you do say.
    Where are all the images, the concrete parts of the stairs?
    We’re almost to the end but it’s ok,
    the other poet says I make all the rules
    as long as I don’t abandon or portray the part of the imagination
    which wakes us up in the middle of the night
    to make sure your dog is not chewing on your moccasins again.
    As I make my way back to New Jersey again
    for this year’s version of Thanksgiving,
    I will choose to not say many things
    to those gathered there,
    and so will they.
    Then we eat.

      1. PSC in CT

        Sorry! After hitting enter (of course!) I decided I needed to clarify: that “cliche” was for the “lump in my throat” — not your poem, mike! 😐

    1. Jane Shlensky

      Love it, Mike. My brother used to say, Let’s eat first, we can fight later. And so we did, making lots of choices about that holiday use of time. Your poem nails that choice for all occasions, with a great title to boot.

  28. maxie2


    Some privileges we left
    behind are not worth fighting
    for, and ideals worthy of
    raised fists trails the list.
    The collectivity bargained
    for lacked peace of mind
    in the noble gathering
    of bodies. In a gallery
    of men we’d stand in anger
    (most times), hurling demands
    across lines we are
    (sometimes) conscious
    not to cross, but without
    cause—we’d charge the lost
    with the sins of the living
    and leave the accountable
    off the hook, for when we
    look outside ourselves we
    see things to fix, and blame
    the mirror for being distorted
    when we’re the ones who
    aborted the choice to be
    right because sometimes
    we come together
    for the wrong reasons.

  29. Michael Grove

    Give Thanks

    We gather here together
    with a breath of fresh clean air.
    Give thanks for brighter light
    and the peace residing there.

    Live life with a passion
    to be all that we can be.
    Give thanks for open eyes
    so that we may clearly see.

    Give thanks for open minds and hearts
    where every soul is bared.
    Find a peaceful mission
    where our great gifts may be shared.

    Gathering with joy we praise
    the gift and grace of living,
    and celebrate the bounty
    on this day of great Thanksgiving.

    By Michael Grove

    1. JanetRuth

      This rings with the realization of who we are without the One we thank! Beautiful! Happy Thanksgiving to all my dear American friends. Your festive mood trickles over the border into our homes and hearts:)

    2. Michael Grove

      Thanks Marie, Linda and Janet. Yes, this could be a prayer poem. I am up early and inspired today. One small edit. I have changed the last line in the 3rd stanza substitutine the word, “Blessings” for “Great Gifts” to eliminate the repeat in the 4th syanza. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

  30. Nancy J


    To those who would like to claim
    free agency and trade themselves
    to a family on the opposite coast,
    to those for whom gathering family
    always means a gathering storm,
    to those who gather out of
    obligation instead of love,
    lean into the moment,
    create new memories.
    Family is forever, you are
    in each other’s blood, and it’s
    better than having no one –
    isn’t it?

  31. barbara_y


    gathering aspirin 
    gathering anthems 
    gathering altering catering gartering bartering
    dithering garnering guttering 
    gathering lathering watering bathing
    gathering chattering clattering flattering bothering fluttering
    gathering darning feathering having hattery hickory dickery dockery
    gathering eating fattening 
    gathering fathering flustering
    gathering lockets lovers loathing leaving littering loitering listerine
    gathering mothering 
    gathering mattering mystery mothra mad hattery mastery
    gathering nattering needling nastily nattily hastily nothing
    gathering openly
    gathering paper 
    gathering property properly pestering prospering 
    gathering quickly quietly quartering quitting questing
    gathering rather often 
    gathering rattan netting 
    gathering ratting rattling ragging fragging flagging
    gathering slathering 
    gathering shattering shuttering shuddering
    gathering splattering stuttering smattering 
    gathering teetering 
    gathering tottering 
    gathering veterans 
    gathering voters
    gathering vixens vexing vetting vastening
    gathering weathering withering worrying 
    gathering weary
    gathering whimpering 
    gathering whispering lisping rasping 
    gathering zithers zipping zapping
    gathering gatherings

  32. Alfred Booth

    I have survived another year
    as my own founding father
    of a dynasty to end
    at my death, no children
    will note my passing

    I am thankful
    for a food-filled pantry
    pleasant work gives me a roof
    and my old-fashioned notion of love
    frequently fills the hearth of my heart
    to the bursting point

    such is the stuffing of my existence
    and I, cooked to a crisp
    by its warmth, will not complain
    should someone nibble tenderly
    to satisfy their hunger
    for companionship

    old man’s prayer

    1. PKP

      Lovely…and as a thought syrup laden but nevertheless true…if a man has poetry a man has a legacy a spark of which glints here and there and who knows where…. there is no end where words play on …..just a thought inspired by this poem that reaches out and embraces…. Enjoyed your poem….enjoy the day 🙂

  33. Leo

    Gathering my thoughts
    which are a lot, (or not)
    I part ways with misery,
    writing with it as my ink;
    ain’t as shallow as I think.

    Gathering joyous words,
    which are a lot, (indeed)
    I write from hollow mind,
    the echo of trapped voice;
    muse, then does rejoice.

    Together, they form me,
    my muse’s life, (they do)
    And with a silent flourish,
    they eloquently nourish;
    freeing me of my burden.


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