Two Thanksgiving poems https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t1585 Runboard| Two Thanksgiving poems en-us Thu, 28 Mar 2024 10:52:36 +0000 Thu, 28 Mar 2024 10:52:36 +0000 https://www.runboard.com/ rssfeeds_managingeditor@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds managing editor) rssfeeds_webmaster@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds webmaster) akBBS 60 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10654,from=rss#post10654https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10654,from=rss#post10654Actually the phrase is lifted from an old Van Morrison song: "Rave on, John Donne." Listen closely to get the meaning. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sv49jlyX-co Terenondisclosed_email@example.com (Terreson)Wed, 30 Nov 2011 20:17:58 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10652,from=rss#post10652https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10652,from=rss#post10652"Rave on." An interesting turn of phrase. On another site a friend in Ireland called me a "poetry nymphomaniac". I can only hope that I don't seem to be as mad as William Blake was. But then, I can only hope that I am as mad as William Blake.   nondisclosed_email@example.com (GaryBFitzgerald)Tue, 29 Nov 2011 22:47:54 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10650,from=rss#post10650https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10650,from=rss#post10650Never was mad at you, Gary. Rave on, my friend. Rave on. Terenondisclosed_email@example.com (Terreson)Tue, 29 Nov 2011 02:11:36 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10649,from=rss#post10649https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10649,from=rss#post10649Thank you, Tere. Not only for your beautiful poem but also for chiming in. I was afraid that you were still mad at me. As I said to my wife today, life just seems to give us one surprise after another. Today is the anniversary of the death of my mother, who died twenty-three years ago. But I also just learned today that it is the birthday of one of my favorite poets, William Blake. Go figure. I never knew this. I have to wonder if they planned it that way. You said: “It is the time of the year when we give credence to the dead and to the not yet born.” This reminded of some poems I wrote.            Hello Hello, everybody. I miss you all. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, but it’s not my fault. After all, you’re buried all over the damned country. I can’t drive that far. But being that you’re dead, I figure you can hear me anyway. Hello, everybody. I miss you. Copyright 2008 – HARDWOOD-77 Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald            For You Not Yet As I write, right now, your mother is the size of a pea. She will grow and be born and not hear of me. You at this time do not even exist and only by luck and grace will you be if your mother survives and gets married. But I write not for your mother or even right now. Now knows nothing of me. Now knows not what I do. I write for tomorrow, for they not yet here. I have written for you. Copyright 2010 – Ponds and Lawns-New and Corrected Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald nondisclosed_email@example.com (GaryBFitzgerald)Tue, 29 Nov 2011 01:04:28 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10643,from=rss#post10643https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10643,from=rss#post10643Enjoyable reads all, Gary. Yes. It is the time of the year when we give credence to the dead and to the not yet born. By way of poetry conversation here is an old thing on one of your themes. To all my friends who've gone to stay, some I've lost, some I failed, some the ones who had to let go, who had to keep to where the home-feeling could come and wait for them. You still keep with me here and lively like New Year's Eve, and in the really close way, the way when you've kissed the trees. Terenondisclosed_email@example.com (Terreson)Sun, 27 Nov 2011 17:55:29 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10640,from=rss#post10640https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10640,from=rss#post10640hi Gary, Thanks for the update on Hunter, the timing of his appearance is remarkable. Hope you had a very good Thanksgiving, Chrisnondisclosed_email@example.com (Christine98)Fri, 25 Nov 2011 09:36:20 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10639,from=rss#post10639https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10639,from=rss#post10639Hi libramoon (aka LC ). Thank you for thanking me. A friend of mine, the writer William Michaelian, once described me as ‘Johnny Appleseed’ because I sprinkle my poems all over the poetry ‘blogosphere’. I told him: “Well, if nobody gets to read them then what’s the point of writing them?” Hi Christine. Our new (old) dog is doing fine. We named him Hunter. He is incredibly well mannered and just sort of moved right in. He is at least 10 years old (we’re guessing) since he is a little gray and moves a little slowly, but he has become a regular member of the family. He gets along fine with our other dog, Kalie, and pays no attention to the cats or the horses. We still find the timing of his arrival strange since he showed up just days after our dog Cody died. It is also unusual that he is also an extra big dog as was Cody (Great Pyrenees). We have, over the years, had many other mysterious animal appearances after the death of one we were close to. I have never discounted the possibility of reincarnation. If one considers things from a spiritual yet practical perspective, somehow this makes sense. After all, if souls are indestructible, what sense does it make to have twenty or thirty billion of them hanging around in the ‘after-life’ when they could just drink from the ‘river of forgetfulness’ and come back here. It might be a way to right former wrongs, visit the ones you love still living or even just a simple vacation of sorts for those now insubstantial (after all, there’s no beer in Heaven, is there?). Who knows? Only the dead know for sure. There is an old myth in Ireland that the souls of the dead will reappear as a white butterfly. After my brother died I wrote this poem…based on a true experience. My Only Brother Died So now my brother’s dead as well and but for me, none left. All the family has passed. I take with me when I leave every tear and memory and laugh, all the glory and the hardship and the shame, a history of generations now gone by. Only I remain to plot the course on this current through the night, to reach and tack against restless swell this proud yet soon abandoned vessel of family name, torn sails and broken lines behind me dragging across these lonely seas. What ports unseen, I wonder, now give haven to those who sailed with me, how breach this distance? What signal fire can he now light from such dark and unknown shores to let me know he sees this ship, the tattered colors on the mast that I alone still fly. How breach this silence? I saw a slender, brittle branch today in the chilly Autumn wood, sagging, weary in the breeze, a single, lonely leaf upon its tip, the last. I felt a tear begin to sting beneath my eye. Then I saw a butterfly. Copyright 2008 – HARDWOOD-77 Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald nondisclosed_email@example.com (GaryBFitzgerald)Thu, 24 Nov 2011 20:37:57 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10638,from=rss#post10638https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10638,from=rss#post10638Thanks for giving.nondisclosed_email@example.com (libramoon)Wed, 23 Nov 2011 23:53:03 +0000 Re: Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10637,from=rss#post10637https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10637,from=rss#post10637Thanks Gary. Happy Thanksgiving to you and your loved ones. How's the new doggie? Hope everyone has a fine turkey day, Chrisnondisclosed_email@example.com (Christine98)Wed, 23 Nov 2011 23:25:58 +0000 Two Thanksgiving poemshttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10636,from=rss#post10636https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p10636,from=rss#post10636                      Writing at Night I had planned to write about that owl tonight. I heard him calling from the wood, but now I’m thinking that I should write my will. I’ve put it off as long as I could. I should list all my assets and debts, my most treasured and valuable goods, pay the balance on lost bets for those I leave behind. Maybe I could just write a letter to everyone I’ve wronged, that I’ve maligned, make this page an apology for all the things I’ve screwed up in my life, all the things I sought but could never find. Or, at least, leave a thank you note for having had it. Copyright 2009 – Tall Grass & High Waves, Gary B. Fitzgerald            Thanks in April Cats asleep on the porch, stretched out in the sun this warm and quiet afternoon. She’s out brushing her horses. Errands are done…nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. So I’m just drinking a beer, enjoying spring’s usual grand entrance. Dragonflies shimmer in the air, butterflies and bees already hard at work. I hear the buzzing, almost the fluttering, in the still. I’m somewhat ambivalent about what’s been and what may come. What’s past I can’t change so I just worry about tomorrow, what must be done. But for all of the troubles before me, this exact moment, is so absolutely perfect that I’m sure it was worth it all. Copyright 2010 – Ponds and Lawns-New and Corrected Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald nondisclosed_email@example.com (GaryBFitzgerald)Wed, 23 Nov 2011 21:09:29 +0000