2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 6

After today’s poem, we’ll be 20% of the way through this challenge. Let’s do this!

For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. Praise a person; praise a deity; praise your favorite food. If you ask me, there’s not enough praise to go around in this world; let’s fix that today–with this poem. Praise someone or something, even if it’s just your morning coffee.

*****

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Here’s my attempt at a Praise Poem:

“lollipop”

even though i don’t have the patience
to suck you down to the stick & even
though that means i end up chewing
your hard candy that gets stuck on my
teeth & even though your refined sugar
is so bad for me in so many ways i can’t
help but praise you for being there when
all i need is a void to fill & a sweet tooth to
soothe

*****

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He has a definite sweet tooth that is equally happy downing a bag of bite-size Kit Kats as devouring a share-size bag of Skittles–or Sweet Tarts or Peanut M&Ms or about anything else with sugar. He simultaneously wants to praise and curse all things sweet.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

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312 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 6

  1. Jane Shlensky

    Psalm

    All praise for nature’s building blocks,
    For particles and molecules,
    For atoms and their smaller parts
    For things that grow from fecund pools.

    Hussah for all sweet –ologies,
    For fur and feather, scale and skin,
    For leaf and bark, for root and shoot,
    For water’s flow and busy wind.

    There is nowhere that I can look
    That does not fill my heart and head
    With gifts from nature’s thriving book
    All praise and thanks for nature’s bread.

  2. Alphabet Architect

    Purpose of Praise

    I was created to praise you;
    Charged upon heeding your call
    To sing and desire to lift up
    Your holy name higher than all.

    All of your handiwork beckons,
    Attracting my eyes to your grace;
    Worthy are you beyond any on earth;
    I delight in the sight of your face.

    I would be miserably selfish,
    Lost and depressed without you.
    Praise takes me higher and higher
    Enlarging my heart with my view.

  3. Anthony94

    On an Ordinary Tuesday

    If I write tonight I can take
    tears and use them as weapons
    the way the pen is mightier
    than the sword, shape droplets
    into the o’s and u’s, the sideways
    c’s, the loopy s’s, the b. I can
    swipe them away before they follow
    me to force the turnover of a sodden

    pillow, me in this darkness wanting
    so much for you to see light, to
    make it for another first time and
    know what it is to be loved by
    someone other than the one who
    gave you birth. We’ve traveled
    so many miles that on this ordinary
    Tuesday when I realize you may not

    have enough hours off to fly home
    for Christmas that the ache is
    something I must lock away
    quickly lest it spill out and over
    beyond words. You are my
    fierce fighter, you who work to
    reach beyond Asperger’s, whose
    mind grapples with the great

    philosophers, you who record
    your own music with its wildly
    peculiar beat. Tucked away in
    that coastal town where droplets
    freeze along like this certainty
    that I miss you fiercely, darkness
    between us these thousand miles
    connecting us on an ordinary Tuesday.

  4. grcran

    he praised the day for bringing such promise
    and for putting an end to the darkness & fears of that night
    he praised the night for closing the curtains on such fulfilment
    and for putting an end to the turmoil & travails of that day
    and he praised the beautiful colors, equally, of sunrise & sunset

    gpr crane

  5. Domino

    Praise Be, Coffee

    Oh coffee, how lovely thou art,
    Frothy and steaming in the cappuchino,
    Strong and black in the espresso.
    Thy dark beans refresh me,
    Thy tasty brew renews.
    Yea, though I walk through
    the early morning light
    afflicted with grogginess
    and weary from too many late nights,
    Yet I know thy lovely taste revives me.
    Thy cream and thy half-and-half nourish my soul.
    Thine shall be the devotion and adoration forever,
    amen.

  6. Melanie

    In praise of mystery

    Let us not
    measure the world in feet and inches
    lay it carefully on an operating table
    push facts down its throat and put it to sleep
    shave off the grass and the trees
    drain the rivers, cut into the mountains
    define it by its minerals and chemicals
    push the visible beneath the microscope
    acknowledge only the verifiable

    Let us not
    unravel the mystery

    Not all questions need an answer

  7. dockanz

    A world bound in grief
    longing for relief
    suffering abounds
    pain is all around.

    Innocence dying
    evil ever trying
    to rule human hearts
    tearing us apart.

    Yet the sun ascends
    bringing grace again
    its daily duty
    revealing beauty.

    Let our tears become
    prisms for the sun
    pain’s crystalline lens
    bending praise to heav’n.

  8. seingraham

    IN LIEU OF AN ALARM CLOCK

    Every morning it’s the same
    First one small dog, then the other
    As if discovering their lupine roots
    during the night – throw back their
    wee heads and begin to howl

    They’re pugs, for heaven’s sake,
    with faces flat enough to bite a wall
    Why is this their preferred method
    to wake the humans that feed them?
    It’s eerie, if admittedly a bit laudatory.

  9. JanetRuth

    In Praise of Coffee

    He wakes me up each morning
    Much to my delight
    He knows exactly what I need
    And how to do it right
    I stay a little sleepy
    Until I feel his touch
    His warmth flows into, through me
    I love him oh, so much

    Maxwell, you’re a darling
    I keep you in a can
    And can’t wait until morning
    To kiss your face of tan
    Your bronze brazilian passion
    Ignites me to the core
    And oh, I know I cannot
    Live without you anymore

    Love, you don’t have to worry
    No one can take your place
    I sip you and inhale you
    With a smile upon my face
    Maxwell, you’re a darling
    I love your coat of blue
    And in the early morning
    Nobody else will do

    Maxwell, you’re a keeper
    Perfection in a can
    I wonder what would happen
    IF YOU WERE A MAN

  10. JanetRuth

    In Praise of Friends…

    A friend is like a favourite book
    We read again, again
    They are the laughter in our ‘glad’
    The pillow in our pain

    A friend is like a precious poem
    The beauty of each line
    Is like a treasure without price
    Word cannot quite define

    A friend is like a gift from God
    I pray that I may be
    The kind of friend to you, my friend
    That you have been to me

  11. JanetRuth

    In Praise of November Days…

    You flood the heart with phrases too manifold for mere word
    You toll a gong that blazons from yon belfry undeterred
    And though you doff coppice and croft of autumn color-schemes
    You move your moody wand across the brooding ponds and streams

    You nurture nature’s languor with a lonesome lullaby
    And spread a somber table for the poet’s hungry sigh
    The lay leased to the laden limb, you quiet, leaf by leaf
    As amber-russet riot dims on ashen-brindled heath

    You scatter summer’s tatters like a scalawag run wild
    And strip the tips of fronds that donned the lilt of bloom awhile
    You sweep the sleeping landscape with death’s elemental dearth
    And draw the eye to where the sky is tucked against the earth

    You keen with soulful silence the impact of season’s seal
    How one cannot turn back the clock to walk on Bygone’s reel
    How, even in November when your wind is a sad song
    We ought to dance and remember not to glance back too long

  12. rmpWritings

    yesterday’s inspired three…today’s two, where the second actually steals a line from my “whosoever” poem…

    ~grateful for the light~
    by rmp (posted on twitter @rmpRamblings)

    in the darkest of moments, small though it may be, hope shines the brightest.

    ________

    Every Breath is a Homage to Hope
    by rmp

    I want nothing more than to be rid
    of hope
    & then not.

    hope is a dragon
    protecting me,
    yet searing me with every breath.

    & while I battle this contradiction,
    I know I rather the burning pain
    of each breath
    than the alternative of
    feeling nothing at all.

  13. Julieann

    In Praise of America

    Maybe it isn’t perfect
    Maybe I have issues with
    The authority of its leaders
    Bu-u-u-u-ut —–
    I’ll shout it from the highest mountain
    Sing it from the tallest yardarm
    Whisper it in echo pass
    Tell you on the sidewalk
    Tell you in the aisles
    Thank God I am an American!!!!

  14. tunesmiff

    IN PRAISE OF A SIMPLER TIME
    G. Smith
    —-*—-
    Up with the sunrise,
    To bed with the chickens;
    Grandpa was so wise.
    Up with the sunrise?
    Where’s our surprise,
    As our daily life quickens?
    Up with the sunrise,
    To bed with the chickens.

  15. pipersfancy

    A Serpent’s Prayer of Praise

    A rock gazing up at the desert sky
    feels itself heating, heating,
    soaking in the energy of the sun

    while on the sandy ground
    a whiskered mouse licks its paws
    to wash its face in the coolness of

    the shadow of the rock—
    its shade and midday salvation.
    And it shall praise the rock.

    Desert Kingsnake coiled and still,
    receiving and storing life
    as it soaks in the heat

    from atop the rock—
    its vantage point for midday worship.
    And it shall praise the rock.

    Dust lightning ignites—Kingsnake,
    uncoils, slithers, strikes in one motion—
    and mouse is no more

    while Kingsnake returns to its place
    atop the rock to bask in
    the sun’s glory and digest its meal.

  16. MHR

    This is a total description to my mornings-I always need green tea with mint and I always need my mugs to be clean and RIGHT THERE where I can get them. Enjoy!

    I just want to take this moment,
    to gather those mugs and tea cups around,
    who are always there. Thank you.
    For when I need mint tea and I need it now,
    (and can’t be bothered to wait the dishwasher out).
    you’re my saving grace, my one and only-
    I sing your praise, even though I KNOW!
    It can’t be easy to be filled with boiling water,
    and get your senses assaulted with mint oil
    and green tea leaves:
    however, I must say it is pleasant for me.

  17. Bruce Niedt

    One more, and then I promise to get off the “soapbox”. This is a parody, if you will, of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty”. I used some of his same words and even retained the end rhymes. Again, “praise” is ironic in this context.

    Died, Beauty

    Glory to Trump for bigly things –
    For skies of sick-green color as a gangrened cow;
    For climate-change denial (someday we’ll all swim);
    Fresh hell for fragile species and eagles’ wings;
    Landscape strip-mined, pierced – the corporate plough;
    And conservation – just a budget to trim.

    All things counterintuitive, strange;
    Whatever is fickle, feckless (no know-how)
    But swift, mad tweets, sour; befuddled, dim;
    His father’s son, incompetent past change:
    Praise him.

  18. Janet Rice Carnahan

    MY RISING SON

    In the beginning
    I just knew
    This baby I carried
    Came from my heart
    Joy overwhelming
    Without knowing him yet
    We knew each other
    Instantly, without words
    A subtle awareness
    An underlying understanding
    Keen perception of the world
    Something I knew he would have to follow
    I spent twenty years working with children
    He was one of a kind
    Nothing worked better
    Then just listening to him
    Sharing with him on a deeper level
    He is grown now and recently married
    I still see his true and sincere heart
    His efforts in this world
    Bring out the very best of him
    His innocent reflection of others
    Tells me of his deep compassion for life
    Seeking what is right for those he loves
    My son believes in fairness
    Harmony, balance and forgiveness
    And love,
    Always love
    Which is why my heart
    Knew him even before he arrived
    I had never known love to be so clear
    So clean and so real
    Until I held him next to my heart
    As he arrived into this life
    Where my love for him will remain
    Forever

  19. AsWritten

    IN PRAISE OF STANDARDS by Ken Bentz

    The same sun
    creates a horizon
    wherever you choose to stand.

    The same wind
    frees your inner chill
    whether you are cold or warm.

    Your same eyes
    misinterpret the world
    no matter where you choose to look

  20. EllaT

    Dog Park Just After Sunset

    six little feet in the twilight
    four much faster
    speed keeping out the creeping chill
    damp autumn leaves and settling soil
    and laughter
    rhythmic jingling as paws race
    circles around her joy
    thankful
    grateful
    to be here
    with them
    in this magical darkness

  21. Marie Elena

    Two Poets Triolet Away (For Walt and De!)

    I wonder if they know their worth.
    I’d love to meet them both someday.
    In awe of their poetic girth,
    I wonder … DO they know their worth?
    No greater poets on the earth!
    Their writing takes my breath away.
    I wonder if they know their worth.
    I’d love to meet them both someday.

    1. Walter J Wojtanik

      TRIOLET FROM ACROSS THE EERIE BAY

      We’d love to meet you too someday,
      Best friend we’ve never met.
      I’m sure we’ll have a lot to say,
      We’d love to meet you too someday.
      We could talk of life and our wordplay,
      A day we’ll ne’er forget!
      We’d love to meet you too someday,
      Best friend we’ve never met,

  22. Bruce Niedt

    Sorry if this undercuts the intent of Robert’s prompt, but lately I’ve been a lot angrier about the state of the world and the country, so “praise” is used quite ironically in the title. If I offend with my views, I apologize – just need to get it off my chest:

    Pass the Lord and Praise the Ammunition

    They were already in church,
    but once again, we are encouraged
    to send out “thoughts and prayers”.
    Once again, we are told that it’s too soon
    to talk about laws. We are told that the amendment
    is as sacred as an eleventh commandment.
    We are told by our President that the problem
    is not with guns, but with mental illness –
    the same President who just made it easier
    for the mentally ill to get guns.
    We are told by legislators,
    whose pockets are stuffed with lobby money,
    that tougher rules won’t fix the problem.
    Open carry, concealed carry, “good guys with guns”,
    thoughts and prayers and thoughts and prayers,
    till the graveyards fill with victims
    whose survivors get only condolences.

    1. MET

      I know the song from where that title has evolved… I understand your anger… and I feel such sadness for those families who lost people they love…. and mental health treatment in this country is a joke… working human services you come to know all they do is band-aids… and did not need more services taken from them…by the way of my 28 years of services from 1978 until 2006… the only president who did anything to help with more treatment services was Bush the second one….

    2. lsteadly

      Bruce, I hear you. This is such a scary time and I don’t know what it will take to end this insanity. I don’t understand how people can pocket money that buys the pain and suffering of others. And don’t even get me started with the plight of our wild creatures and the planet… I get so sad. I can only hope that we will find a voice strong enough to silence the evil and greed….

  23. Sara McNulty

    In Praise Of The Beach

    When life’s hard to abide
    sweep stress out with the tide, and sound
    of seagulls who abound.
    There are shells to be found, pearl pink–
    some like indigo ink.
    When you are facing brink of gloom
    watch waves of ocean bloom
    bouquets of white like plume of bird.
    You might find you’ve weathered the storm.

  24. taylor graham

    DAY OUT OF NIGHT

    Praise the morning – dark and still
    beyond the midnight pasture
    where an old blood-bay night-mare
    grazed each blade of greening grass –

    new grass pushing up out of
    dead bleached dry stubble. Dreams are
    mystery of another mind
    gnawed by Beaver Moon at full,

    taking his time above clouds
    which promised rain that hasn’t
    come yet. So much that’s not quite
    right with earth, they say, with life.

    Old Beaver hovered just so
    to light contours of the room
    making everything unknown,
    a mystery to puzzle out

    in a dark space lit by one
    bright screen of thought with the moon
    at west window; brush of dawn
    lining the east hill with praise.

  25. tunesmiff

    THIS WALL
    G. Smith (BMI)
    ====≠====
    I stand in a crowd,
    Of fathers and mothers,
    Sons and daughters,
    Sisters and brothers.

    Some look away,
    Some fight back tears,
    Before giving in,
    To the pain of the years.

    You answered the call,
    You gave your all,
    And for that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall;
    For that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall.

    Your comrades in arms,
    Stand off to one side;
    Survivor guilt,
    Mixed with service man pride.

    Some touch the letters,
    But not all will cry;
    But all who have stood here,
    Ask their own kind of why.

    You answered the call,
    You gave your all,
    And for that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall;
    For that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall.

    You didn’t do it for the glory,
    You didn’t do it for the praise;
    You did it out of duty,
    Underneath the flag they raise.

    Your buddies came home villains,
    Some were just a shell;
    They walked the streets they thought they knew,
    But found were now a hell.

    You answered the call,
    You gave your all,
    And for that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall;
    For that your name,
    Is engraved on this wall.

  26. robinamelia

    Failure is underrated

    Praise the broken sidewalk,
    the pothole filled with rain and regret,
    the fallen branch
    that will not return to its duty
    and hold the tire
    upon which no child has swung
    for decades, though squirrels
    had found it useful,
    but they will find a workaround.
    They always do.

  27. robinamelia

    When all else fails, praise the cat

    I stopped suddenly on the sidewalk,
    and a Goth girl walked into me.
    “Sorry,” I said, “I brake for cats.”
    A black one (Goth itself)
    lay in the Shop Therapy window.
    A spot of black beneath the crazily
    colored clothes draped on manikins.
    So deeply engaged in licking under its tail,
    I couldn’t see a face, but one paw jut
    straight up, a claw showing through
    letting me know: this cat’s been around.
    Praise the cat.

  28. lsteadly

    Our Foundation

    I praise our forefathers,
    their wisdom and foresight,
    how they braved troubled waters
    for unalienable rights

    to live, love and pray freely
    as every man should
    and in the search to be happy
    offer help when one could

    But lately their vision
    has been fading from view,
    hate strangles the mission
    while greed rewards few

    I praise those who stand tall
    to protect honesty
    and to those who heed the call
    to save diversity

  29. MET

    An Autumn Day Praises

    The golden leaves of the hickory glow.
    Perfection that grows strong limbs
    With deep roots…
    Storms do not break them…

    A sky cast with greyness,
    The air smells of a storm coming, but
    The gold of the hickory glows dazzling gold…
    Storms cannot darken them….

    I miss the old hickory tree
    Outside my window…
    The golden greeter to my day
    It was man that took its days
    Autumn seems less perfect without it…

    A young man not knowing the harm
    Stuck spikes to climb the hickory,
    The insects invaded, and
    The golden tree died quickly…
    Storms did not take the old hickory, but a human did.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 6, 2017

      1. MET

        thank you… I love the earth deeply… it is why I paint landscapes and my pictures are more of trees and the earth… I do miss this tree it was close to the house and its golden leaves in the fall made the house glow with golden light… I really miss it… I think next year I will find a young Hickory to plant close to where it had been…

      1. MET

        Thank you and you might want to read the book “The Hidden Life of Trees”… it is written by a German forester…. and I loved every word of the book… it was better than a romance novel…

  30. MET

    Praise to the Ordinary Adventure
    I
    Stepping out my door is an adventure…
    Today I found a tiny leaf
    That had fallen on driver seat, and
    I smiled….
    From the small moment of joy.

    II
    (or not so ordinary adventure)
    I picked the mail up
    From my mailbox
    Hoping I did not grab up the black widow spider
    That resided there …
    Five miles down the road,
    There she was on my arm…
    I lost my wits…
    Screamed like I heard a banshee wail,
    And whacked that interloper spider
    Across the car….

    Then my mind reminded me…
    “The Spider is still here
    In the car with you…”
    My mind wondered if that tickle
    On my ankle was the spider culprit
    Making a stealth move up my leg…
    Or maybe since I was the menacing spider-napper…
    The Spider Swat team was about to invade my car.
    My hair was a mess because
    Maybe the spider was hiding there…
    I arrived at the doctor’s office
    Found said naughty spider,
    And placed her in the grass…
    I was not returning her home, and
    I hope the Spider Swat Team had been recalled.
    It was not an uneventful adventure today.

    III
    From the doctor’s where I got a shot
    In my bad knee
    To the groceries to buy cat food
    For the three Guardians who live with me,
    And the Inheritance
    My mother willed to me, and
    A few things needed….
    The rest of the day went as planned,
    But not as Gus, the escape artist guardian,
    Had hoped…

    Except for the spider incident…
    Not a bad adventure.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 6, 2017

  31. Kayla

    I Praise Your Faith In Me

    You look in my eyes with faith
    While others seem to be clouded by hate
    You hold me in your arms with love
    You sing sweet like the song of a dove
    How could you grow to love me
    When I’m so broken and angry
    I praise and thank you for your tender care
    I praise you for the love you share
    Most I praise your faith in me
    You make my soul feel free
    I can do anything when you are around
    Your voice is such a tender and sweet sound
    It motivates me to finally stand
    To finally show the world I actually can
    Achieve every dream that I’ve dreamt
    To go to places where no one went
    And I know I’ll always have you with me
    And every day I praise your faith in me

  32. Earl Parsons

    Praiseworthy

    Whom among us is worthy of praise
    In some ways, we all are
    In others ways, not so much
    For what is praise in the first place?

    Adoration, perhaps, or
    Accomplishment approval
    How about acknowledgement
    Of a high quality characteristic

    In our PC environment we
    Praise too much and too often
    Rejecting the need for correction
    For fear of possibly offending

    Or the fear of retribution from
    Those we are responsible for
    We raise children with no experience
    In the negatives in life that await

    The last two generations suffer
    From accolades and false praises
    From trophies they didn’t win
    And grades they didn’t earn

    We send them out unprepared
    To a world ready to devour them
    And devour them it will
    Lest we teach them self-defense

    Praiseworthy are the strong parents
    The teachers that teach the truth
    The preachers that preach the Word
    And the children who take it to heart

    Praiseworthy is the One True God
    Who watches over us all
    And protects us from all that is evil
    A protection we need more than ever

    © 2017 Earl Parsons

  33. SarahLeaSales

    This Mother’s Praise

    Her eyes lit up
    as she tinkled on the potty,
    exclaiming, “Good job!”
    She looked to me
    for confirmation,
    and I wondered
    if it was prudent to praise
    for every little thing?

    Was my praise for something
    so small
    akin to giving everyone a trophy?

    But when I saw my child’s belief
    in herself
    grow—
    like the bahiagrass after a summer rain—
    I knew I had served her well.

    For positivity—
    like every other like thing—
    reproduces after its own kind.
    It is my sacred calling as her parent
    to make her feel capable
    of the little things,
    for, in doing so,
    I would make her feel capable
    of the big things.

  34. KM

    6.
    It’s hard, I know, to keep your muscles loose, your teeth unclenched. So hard to hear the news over and over and over – insert city and number of dead here. Stop it from painting layer after layer of rage on top of you. It’s a wonder we’re not all shellacked in place, fists up and mouths open, mid-anger shriek. How do you stay soft? How do you keep from popping your Ps on impossible words like prayer, peace, protection? How do you say you’re a pacifist and mean it? It used to be so easy. Remember raising two fingers, like you saw the long haired rock stars do on the covers of all your Mom and Dad’s records? The number two, you said, and your dad smiled, throwing two fingers back. There’s a plaque you still have in your living room, PEACE, LIKE CHARITY, BEGINS AT HOME. You’ve believed it for a long time. But lately you worry it ends there too. Praise be, to all those brave souls, who still turn on the TV, refresh the news feed, open the front door, wave to the neighbour— their bodies as supple as a yogi’s. Belief cushioning their red, red hearts.

    – Kim Mannix
    http://www.makesmesodigress.com

  35. Carmen Maldonado

    A poem to myself

    I praise you
    and all your haunted rooms
    and all your empty tombs:
    I praise you.

    I glory in you
    and all your flashing eyes
    and all your harrowing thighs:
    I glory in you.

    I beseech you
    and all your rubbish thoughts
    and all your secret knots:
    I beseech you.

    I invoke you
    and all your wild dreams
    and all your stretched seams:
    I invoke you.

    I worship you
    and all your hidden sorrows
    and all your uncertain tomorrows:
    I worship you.

    I praise your willingness to wake in the still-dark and find a surface onto which you plant your feet. I praise your brief charges and your long retreats. I praise your confused and bloodied lips. I praise your dark blue months. I praise your fate-drowned heart. I praise your inability to forget and your desire to be able to. I praise your stellar structure. I praise those dark pockets of your mind that you alternately flee from and drop into like a smooth stone. I praise your unknown.

  36. deringer1

    PRAISE

    only one thing worthy of my praise,
    one person only will receive
    the exultation of my heart.

    Unseen, and yet I feel you near,
    like the wind an
    unspoken presence.

    I see beauty and it is you.
    I hear music and it is you.
    I feel love and it is you.

    I call you God and yet
    you have many names and
    no name is adequate.

    words are too simple but
    you will read my heart
    and accept my praise.

  37. taylor graham

    OUTSIDE THE OLD FARMHOUSE

    old Keyaki tree
    rooted far from its homeland
    lifts stiff arms in thanks

    three birds on the line –
    notes of electric music,
    a praise song sky-blue

    the garden’s last rose
    in blossom-meditation
    for this new dawning

    low sun touches down
    aslant, its grace more brilliant
    as the old year dims

    sign hand-painted on the barn,
    eggs fresh as good earth’s bounty

  38. carolecole

    All Creatures Down Below

    The Mayan calendar dangles from my ears,
    Buddha hangs around my neck, and the Hindu om
    is inked beneath my collar bone. At dusk I stand
    beneath an ancient oak tented in ghostly
    Spanish moss and send up words to all
    that is love in the universe: “make me good.
    Oh, make me good.”

  39. candy

    As A Child …..

    I was not raised with lavish praise
    Obeying rules – not an event
    and being rude was not a phase
    I was not raised with lavish praise
    but curiosity always
    received the highest compliment
    I was not raised with lavish praise
    Obeying rules – not an event

    ~~ here is my attempt at a triolet 😉

  40. Sally Jadlow

    Praise Poem

    For my next breath,
    for the next beat of my heart.
    For holding all things together,
    for Your merciful lovingkindness
    new every morning,
    I offer You my humble praise
    and thanksgiving
    with every fiber of my being.

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