If I could only kiss
each blade of grass blown brown
and savor every drop of rain,
promising to sigh
when wind meets desert sand,
gathering feather to dream upon
when the day feels less than fortunate,
my body begging to embrace
treasures that came before me,
draping my spirit in insight
once called illusion.
To grasp only a fragment of majesty
from that mighty mountaintop
would bring me to my knees in shame
for lack of appreciation
for all of the little miracles.
~
Author notes
Free Verse honorable thoughts that come from this reading..no pity applied, no pathos...a celebratory piece of knowing what was first taught about gratitude and giving thanks and, perhaps, how we come to turn grave things into gifts.
In a list
A contest entry
- Cultural Day Of Mourning, But Circling Back to Gratitude by CarolDesjarlais.
1200 points, ended November 22, 2007, 3 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Lynda, this is so beautiful, we need to appreciate all these miracles every day, we are indeed fortunate just for each day of life..lovely imagery and poem, congrats on the bronze...
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Awesome imagery and depiction of the affinity with nature and the simple things most of us are neglectful to recognise, let alone understand the importance of the need for such appreciation. great write, well deserving of the bronze goblet.
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A very endearing write you have penned here. So very thoughtful; to give thanks, to be hopeful, and to appreciate what is held... A truly intriguing piece of thought.
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beautifully penned....yes.... we msut be grateful that we are all still here and there ares till some of us who care enough to apply honor to all things before and soon.
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Such beauty to feather this Thanksgiving page in thoughts of happy angels counting gifts...Happy Thanksgiving to you from my mountain...where I have known so much appreciation...
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