Thanksgiving
We walk on starry fields of white
And do not see the daisies;
For blessings common in our sight
We rarely offer praises.
We sigh for some supreme delight
To crown our lives with splendor,
And quite ignore our daily store
Of pleasures sweet and tender.
Our cares are bold and push their way
Upon our thought and feeling.
They hang about us all the day,
Our time from pleasure stealing.
So unobtrusive many a joy
We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives
And conquers if we let it.
There's not a day in all the year
But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
To brim the past's wide measure.
But blessings are like friends, I hold,
Who love and labor near us.
We ought to raise our notes of praise
While living hearts can hear us.
Full many a blessing wears the guise
Of worry or of trouble.
Farseeing is the soul and wise
Who knows the mask is double.
But he who has the faith and strength
To thank his God for sorrow
Has found a joy without alloy
To gladden every morrow.
We ought to make the moments notes
Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;
The hours and days a silent phrase
Of music we are living.
And so the theme should swell and grow
As weeks and months pass o'er us,
And rise sublime at this good time,
A grand Thanksgiving chorus.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
Address To Music
OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre,
Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire,
The pensive muse with visions blest;
Sweet music! let thy melting airs
Enhance my joys, and sooth my cares!
Is there enchantment in thy voice,
Thy dulcet harp, thy moving measure;
To bid the mournful mind rejoice,
To raise the fairy form of pleasure?
Yes, heav'nly maid! a charm is thine,
A magic art, a spell divine!
Sweet music! when thy notes we hear,
Some dear remembrance oft they bring,
Of friends belov'd, no longer near,
And days that flew on rapture's wing;
Hours of delight that long are past,
And dreams of joy, too bright to last!
And oft 'tis thine the soul to fire,
With glory's animating flame,
Bid valor's noble sons aspire
To win th' immortal wreath of fame
Thine too, the soft, expressive tones,
That pity, tender pity owns!
Oh harmony! celestial pow'r!
Thou syren of the melting soul!
In sorrow's reign, in pleasure's hour,
My heart shall own thy blest control;
And ever let thy moving airs,
Enhance my joys and sooth my cares!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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My Thanksgiving
(don henley/stan lynch/jai winding)
A lot of things have happened
Since the last time we spoke
Some of them are funny
Some of em aint no joke
And I trust you will forgive me
If I lay it on the line
I always thought you were a friend of mine
Sometimes I think about you
I wonder how youre doing now
And what youre going through
The last time I saw you
We were playing with fire
We were loaded with passion
And a burning desire
For every breath, for every day of living
And this is my thanksgiving
Now the trouble with you and me, my friend
Is the trouble with this nation
Too many blessings, too little appreciation
And I know that kind of notionwell, it just aint cool
So send me back to sunday school
Because Im tired of waiting for reason to arrive
Its too long weve been living
These unexamined lives
Ive got great expectations
Ive got family and friends
Ive got satisfying work
Ive got a back that bends
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
Have you noticed that an angry man
Can only get so far
Until he reconciles the way he thinks things ought to be
With the way things are
Here in this fragmented world, I still believe
In learning how to give love, and how to receive it
And I would not be among those who abuse this privilege
Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge
And I dont mind saying that I still love it all
I wallowed in the springtime
Now Im welcoming the fall
For every moment of joy
Every hour of fear
For every winding road that brought me here
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
For everyone who helped me start
And for everything that broke my heart
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanksgiving
happy thanksgiving to all poets and poetesses
this is my thanksgiving wish
hope you are enjoying a favourite dish
with family and friends
if family can't make it, then please phone
for all my family who have passed on
especially to my mom, who is not living
thanks for my life and all the love given
i miss you sadly - but for you
i know this thanksgiving
your happiness is endless
the grand feast is in the company
of our lord and creator
it will be the most joyful for you
for this thought, i have faith is true
this faith is where my solace lies
poem by Rachel Nichols
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Romeo's Road To Romance
You gently bid me take your hand, as we walk side-by-side,
As if to walk Love's Wonderland, with all God's grace supplied...
Such that by day, such that by night, God's Word will guide us true,
Such that each heart may take delight in words like, 'I love you...'
You sweetly swing your arms in time, as God permits this hour,
He knows how much this feels sublime, as two hearts feel His power...
If I am yours and you are mine, God's blessings still in store,
Then I will prove your Valentine, both now and evermore...
You have the right to test this man and conscience serves us well,
Enough to fit within God's plan, as best as we can tell...
But know this now... as we hold hands... no diamond rings as yet...
If we must part, God understands, but you I won't forget...
You smile and sunshine fills my soul, you laugh and make me sigh,
You make me doubt all self-control, you make me ask God, 'Why? '
You must know how I seek your kiss, you must know how I feel,
You must know how I see all this, it's bliss... because it's real...
So hold my hand and hold the dream and hold fast, come what may,
As if this time were so supreme, we dare not let it stray...
And let no other come between, no other tear apart...
To prove my love that God has seen, I offer you... my heart...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Joys Of Thanksgiving
This day in November,
Special and remembered...
By many who are grateful to celebrate,
The joys of Thanksgiving.
With preparations made to express,
An appreciation.
In prayer and with faith to commensurate,
A gathering with family members and friends...
On this occasion,
To eat and feast upon past memories shared.
As an awareness of those many blessings given...
Seem to us to have more of a meaning as we reflect.
When the experience of witnessing...
Many moons and seasons come to pass,
To allow us yet another chance to embrace and grasp...
The importance of each other's presence.
And our fortunate lives we can so easily take for granted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forgiveness Is Not the Key
I look down at the people, I worry about their woes
I worry about their joys, their friends, their foes
I worry about their lives and the way they live it
I worry about their dreams and wonder if they’ll heed it
I worry about the tears I see running down their face
I worry about their lies they tell in this time and place
I worry about their truths that always hurt more
I worry about what they will definitely have in store
I look down at the people who never showed compassion
Who hate each other with the strongest passion
Who pushed me aside as though I were nothing
I wonder, do they care about anything?
I realise they treat each other as dirt
And they revel within all the hurt
Not one ever worried for me
I’m so glad that I can finally see
I refuse to worry or care about them and their petty ways
I will never again worry for their days
Because not one ever cared for me
Forgiveness is not the key
Not when I live life so lonely
I want to be loved only
For them I’ll never again feel woe
Because I’ll be nothing but their foe
poem by Lenore Lee
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Thanksgiving Feast
The table is set for our thanksgiving feast
and all have taken their place
The meal of the year, is finally here,
and oh, how great it will taste..
Potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce,
and rolls that are made fresh and hot.
Turkey with stuffing, right out of the oven.
Pumpkin pie that hasn't been bought.
Our family is anxiously gathered around
in a circle of love hand in hand.
A scene reminiscent of thanksgivings past.
A tradition we all understand.
Dad offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God
for abundance of blessings we share.
Tears touch his cheeks as he humbly gives thanks
for much more than the food that is there.
Though stomachs are empty, each heart is full
while united as family we pray,
Thanking dear God for His wonderful love,
and our blessings this Thanksgiving Day.
When this day is gone and life carries on,
may gratitude live on in me.
Lord help me, I pray, to make every day
a day of thanksgiving to Thee.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Match
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pasture or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon;
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death,
We'd shine and snow together
Ere March made sweet the weather
With daffodil and starling
And hours of fruitful breath;
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death.
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy,
We'd play for lives and seasons
With loving looks and treasons
And tears of night and morrow
And laughs of maid and boy;
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy.
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May,
We'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers,
Till day like night were shady
And night were bright like day;
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We'd hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying-feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein;
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Thanksgiving
Time to put our problems aside and get along for
Thanksgiving
With family, friends, and relatives
We all have something to be thankful for
I'm thankful for my family, friends, and God
Without them I won't be here today
I feel so lucky and grateful for what I have
Some of us are less fortunate and don't get to celebrate
Thanksgiving
It time to give back
You will feel great about yourself
It make you think about life
Some of us don't care about this holiday and we should stop and think and care
That we all are so forunate and grateful for what we have
Some of our tradition we do are watch football, family dinner or party
Thanksgiving
It time when we all get together, laugh, eat, smile, and have a great time
Thanksgiving
Gobble, gobble
I wish you all Happy
Thanksgiving
I hope you all have wonderful time because I'm going to have fun, and be thankful for what I got now
Thanksgiving
poem by Christina Phan
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Time Of Our Lives
At our lives, we are only given one small crack;
Sometimes, we all wish we could turn time back.
Life is not something for which we can rehearse;
We can't fast forward it; can't put it into reverse.
Each day is a blank canvas, ready for us to paint;
Memories of some days are vivid; some seem feint.
It is up to each of us to choose how we fill our days;
There are so many options: so many different ways.
There are times when we all wish our lives away,
Especially when looking forward to a special day.
The days in-between, we wish just would not exist,
But, from our lives, those days would be sorely missed.
Some moments, we wish wouldn't fade into the past;
We wish we could pin them down, and hold them fast.
Those moments, we wish we could capture in a jam jar,
So that we can recall just how special to us they really are.
There are moments when we wish time would disappear:
It may be a single minute, an hour, a day, or an entire year.
When we are children, the days seem to just last and last,
But, as we grow older, they all seem to fly by really fast.
Whether it's a really special day, or just mundane;
Whether it's a really sunny day, or pouring of rain,
Every day holds the same amount of value or worth:
Each and every day is a blessing for us on our Earth.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Seven Years Old
I.
SEVEN white roses on one tree,
Seven white loaves of blameless leaven,
Seven white sails on one soft sea,
Seven white swans on one lake’s lee,
Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven,
All are types unmeet to be
For a birthday’s crown of seven.
II.
Not the radiance of the roses,
Not the blessing of the bread,
Not the breeze that ere day grows is
Fresh for sails and swans, and closes
Wings above the sun’s grave spread,
When the starshine on the snows is
Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed,
III.
Nothing sweetest, nothing best,
Holds so good and sweet a treasure
As the love wherewith once blest
Joy grows holy, grief takes rest,
Life, half tired with hours to measure,
Fills his eyes and lips and breast
With most light and breath of pleasure
IV.
As the rapture unpolluted,
As the passion undefiled,
By whose force all pains heart-rooted
Are transfigured and transmuted,
Recompensed and reconciled,
Through the imperial, undisputed,
Present godhead of a child.
V.
Brown bright eyes and fair bright head,
Worth a worthier crown than this is,
Worth a worthier song instead,
Sweet grave wise round mouth, full fed
With the joy of love, whose bliss is
More than mortal wine and bread,
Lips whose words are sweet as kisses,
VI.
Little hands so glad of giving,
Little heart so glad of love,
Little soul so glad of living,
While the strong swift hours are weaving
Light with darkness woven above,
Time for mirth and time for grieving,
Plume of raven and plume of dove,
VII.
I can give you but a word
Warm with love therein for leaven,
But a song that falls unheard
Yet on ears of sense unstirred
Yet by song so far from heaven,
Whence you came the brightest bird,
Seven years since, of seven times seven.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Have A Drink
A swig from the bottle. Just swallow. Get everything spinning. Such good times we are living. A abrasion the skin. A burning sensation. Make a living just to give it away. Day by day. Ignore the rage. Just jump on stage. tell your story. hammer the notes down. Tap and pound the drums into the ground. No need to worry. A swig from the bottle. Just swallow. Get everything spinning. Such good times we are living. Remembering the forgotten. Trying to bury the dead and rotten. Make their souls disappear. Fear upon fear. Ignore the rage. Just jump on stage. Tell your story. Hammer the notes down. Tap and pound the drums into the ground. No need to worry. A swig from the bottle. Just swallow. Get everything spinning. Such good times we are living. Party till the end of dawn. Party till your dead gone. Enjoy the poison. Season after season. Ignore the rage. Just jump on stage. Tell your story. Hammer those notes down. Tap and pound the drums into the ground. No need to worry. No need to worry. A swig from the bottle and just swallow. Just swallow, damn it just swallow..
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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When Good People Become Friends
When Good People Become Friends
Things work better.
Things work together
Things work out.
When Good People Become Friends
Listening become hearing
seeing become insight
Attention becomes nurture.
When Good People Become Friends
Generosity becomes sharing
Sacrifices become pleasures
Rightful obedience becomes an uncommon delight.
When Good People Become Friends
Joys become happiness
Comfort becomes peace
Needs become an abundance.
When Good people Become Friends
Acquaintances become friendships
Concern becomes caring
Likenesses become divine love.
When Good People Become Friends
Traveling becomes a journey
Endeavors come into fruition
Living becomes Life.
When Good People Become Friends
Gifts become blessings
Blessings become anointings
Anointings become endowments.
When Good People Become Friends
Love becomes power
Weaknesses become strength
And death, Death becomes a new birth.
When Good People Become Friends.
poem by Cecelia Weir
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Embrace
(r gibb)
I dont know what you want, I dont hear what you said
Truth behind the lies
cause I cant see whats in your head
And spread your wings and fly, out in a brave new world
Let this be my prayer, to keep you safe when Im not there
Can we love and live apart, I dont know,no, I dont know
How can we divide the heart, I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
Embrace
Through the mists of time, lovers can be friends
The power of the human heart
The secrets in the souls of men
All my blessings in disguise
I dont know, no, I dont know
Reunited we will rise
I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
Another daybreak, another heartache
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives
Away from you
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely life
Lonely days and nights
We can live our life
Embrace, embrace
With our separate lives
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Lonely days and nights
I will never send away
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Embrace the child inside
The lonely, lonely lives
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May remain as bye gone
Yes days may remain as by gone
Sweet memory may remain and can't be undone
It is all that we have to bear and remember
Lasting thing may remain with us for ever
It is like river flow
It has to die down and nothing to grow
The water may recede and easy to monitor
Can be life line in day’s time and to act as creator
New population or life may emerge on the bank
Many houses might have been washed away lives sank
Yet it is unforgettable link and to remain forever
We have to forget and nothing to regret however
We can not hold one opinion in all the times to come
Whether sad or happiness, both are inevitable and welcome
It may form in formidable chain of events
Some one to be remembered and forgotten as past moments
Life as such if you may evaluate
Can not be compared or equated
It stands in tune with the time and related
To someone it may be happy memory and to some one as ill fated
It is not merely coming on earth
Grow up with age and ultimately face the death
It has something more than to do and excel
Life is all about to be lived again and performed well
It is not raising of one’s self or rearing a child
We are not living in primitive stage and stay as wild
It is all about living as human being
There may be different characters such as poor, beggar or king
Life to some one may look as mountain
To some it may look like as green fields with fountains
How to spend it with more pleasure may be worry?
To some one it may be sordid affair to feel always sorry
It has different feeling at each and every stage
It may not vary with advancement of your age
It is static and has its own sphere of influence
You may start liking it if properly adjusted at once
It is our usual business to get along and reach the shore
There is nothing like little efforts or driving more
It is with equal force and in tune with demand
The ship has to be sailed on water and not on sand
Life may soon be over with all that you did
You might have reached to the end with or without any lead
It is not searching excuses for what you observed
It is all the time achievement that was due and you deserved
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Balance
The sting of time dances on
In the night and early morn
Singing of love gained and love lost
We are left to count the cost
Sorrow visits then goes away
Joy awakens a brand new day
When joy dances and sings with you
Sorrow lay asleep waiting for its time to
It is in the balance we stand
Between the two we take their hand
Who can say which is greater
Who holds the scale between now and later
By what infinite measure shall we weigh
The joy and sorrow that visits each day
For both are bound together by love
Pulling at us with the push and the shove
From joy the happiness from sorrow the pain
Making our lives full with the loss and the gain
Within each our growth is found
The larger we grow the smaller the sound
Of joy and sorrow we hear
For they shall mark every year
That we draw breath upon the earth
Showing to each of us what love is worth
poem by Thomas Segel
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If Not For Love (sung to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)
Love lives within the human heart, a witness to God's grace
And every soul must play its part for blessings to take place!
Through charity we comprehend that others need help, too.
It's how we prove to be a friend beyond our point of view.
Sometimes we sense a sacrifice will help another live!
God asks of us to pay the price - to give what we can give!
The best of us will hear that call, responding well with love,
Yet there are those who'd rather stall or say they gave enough...
In time, all blessings will be weighed, as if to judge their worth.
To prove to those who have obeyed how their love filled the Earth.
Till then there's opportunity, no matter where you are -
To start with, learn of Calvary - its light shines near and far!
If not for love where would we go? What future would we seek?
In Jesus Christ each soul can know: true love is strong not weak!
While wisdom brings Mankind knowledge, alone it bears no light.
The Holy Spirit grants courage to always do what's right!
The Prophets shared God's prophecies so we'd redeem the time...
As servants, let us try to please - for God's love is sublime!
Reach out in faith for sweet kisses, be humble yet be bold!
The future holds God's promises that are as good as gold!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Hymn of Praise
Encompassed by the psalm of hill and stream,
By hymns august with their majestic theme,
Here in the evening of exalted days
To Thee, our Friend, we bow with breath of praise.
The great, sublime hosannas of the sea
Ascend on wings of mighty winds to Thee,
And mingled with their stately words are tones
Of human love, O Lord of all the zones!
Ah! at the close of many splendid hours,
While falls Thy gracious light in radiant showers,
We seek Thy face, we praise Thee, bless Thee, sing
This song of reverence, Master, Maker, King!
To Thee, from whom all shining blessings flow,
All gifts of lustre, all the joys we know,
To Thee, O Father, in this lordly space,
The great world turns with worship in its face.
For that glad season which will pass to-day
With light and music like a psalm away,
The gathered nations with a grand accord,
In sight of Thy high heaven, thank Thee, Lord!
All praise is Thine - all love that we can give
Is also Thine, in whose large grace we live,
In whom we find the ~One~ long-suffering Friend,
Whose immemorial mercy has no end.
poem by Henry Kendall
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One Bumper at Parting
One bumper at parting! -- though many
Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any
Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute
It dies, do we know half its worth.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
Thy die 'midst the tears of the cup.
As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,
Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours --
Ah, never doth Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd by darting
His beam o'er a deep billow's brim --
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.
poem by Thomas Moore
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