I am Thankful for by Nancy J Carmody

I Am Thankful For

by Nancy J Carmody

I am thankful for

…..the mess to clean up after a party
because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

​…..the taxes that I pay
because it means that I’m employed.

…..the clothes that fit a little too snug
because it means I have enough to eat.

​…..my shadow who watches me work
because it means I am out in the sunshine.

​…..the spot I find at the far end of the parking lot
because it means I am capable of walking.

​…..all the complaining I hear about our Government
because it means we have freedom of speech.

​…..that lady behind me in church who sings offkey
​because it means that I can hear.

​…..lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing
because it means I have a home.

…..my huge heating bill
because it means that I am warm.

​…..weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day
because it means that I have been productive.

…..the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours
because it means that I am alive.

I am Thankful for by Nancy J Carmody

I Am Thankful For by Nancy J Carmody I am thankful for …..the mess to clean up after a partybecause it means I have been surrounded by friends. ​…..the taxes that I paybecause it means that I’m employed. …..the clothes that fit a little too snugbecause it means I have...

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Gratitude by Edgar Albert Guest

Gratitude

by Edgar Albert Guest

Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk along your way,
Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile from day to day,
Be grateful for the health you own, the work you find to do,
For round about you there are men less fortunate than you.

Be grateful for the growing trees, the roses soon to bloom,
The tenderness of kindly hearts that shared your days of gloom,
Be grateful for the morning dew, the grass beneath your feet,
The soft caresses of your babes and all their laughter sweet.

Acquire the grateful habit, learn to see how blessed you are,
How much there is to gladden life, how little life to mar!
And what if rain shall fall to-day and you with grief are sad,
Be grateful that you can recall the joys that you have had.

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An Interview by John B. Tabb I sat with chill DecemberBeside the evening fire."And what do you remember,"I ventured to inquire,"Of seasons long forsaken?"He answered in amaze,"My age you have mistaken;I've lived but thirty days."

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December Days by Caleb Prentiss Ruthless winter's rude careerComes to close the parting year;Fleecy flakes of snow descend,Boreal winds the welkin rend.Reflect, oh man! and well rememberThat dull old age is dark December;For soon the year of life is gone,When hoary...

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Holy Sonnet VIII If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified

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A Poem of Gratitude by Traveling Mitch

I’m grateful for change, the ups and the downs,
Both happiness and sadness, the smiles and the frowns.
I’m grateful to writing for giving me pause,
To examine the world, for its beauty and flaws.

To cheese, I thank you for obvious reasons,
And I too must show love to all four of the seasons.
Next up on this list is my trusty canoe,
Cheers to good health, and down with the flu.

Much love to Bri, my partner in life,
I sleep with a smile because she’s on my right,
Plus she’s awfully pretty, and we rarely fight.

An ode to my mind, both wild and curious,
Some teachers loved me, and others were furious,
My brain’s a bit different, for better or worse,
But I see now a blessing, where I once saw a curse.

I’m thankful for books in more ways than one,
They gave me my bullets, my flag, and my gun.
I like the soft sound of traffic, with the moon way up high,
or a nice long walk, though I wish I could fly.

I adore a good drive all on my own,
And that one silly show where they battle for Thrones.
The Leafs, the Raptors, the Jays, and the Bills,
A really loud concert, with all of its thrills.

To not mention hummus would be quite a crime,
And soda water with fresh lemon and lime.
I love speaking new languages in far away places,
I love bold red wine, not bottles, but cases.

I’m thankful for family, I’ve got it quite good,

In the comfort of home, I’ve felt understood,
When it comes to my mom, we’re one and the same,
We’re both like tigers who refuse to be tamed.

My father’s guidance has changed my life,
He’s a calming voice during struggle and strife,
And then there’s my brother, my hero indeed,
I’m happy to follow when he’s in the lead.

Much love to beer for all that you do,
But the really good stuff, not Labatt Blue,
I sure don’t drink you like I did in the past,
Though the university days were truly a blast.

A little bit of praise for fresh veggies and fruit,
And to my Turkish pal Gürbüz, who made all my suits.
I must mention my friends before I forget,
And that strange chicken oven that you forget once you set,

I’ll take an old fashioned with a fresh orange peel,
I love blue, green, and red, and I don’t mind teal,
Let’s hear it for coffee, and also for tea,
I’m down with the insects, from crickets to bees.

I yearn for a moon, so full and so bright,
I do love the day, though not like the night,
I made a good teacher, I did love that,
And the gym brings me joy, and keeps off the fat.

I’m grateful to be born in the Great White North,
With the freedom of speech to talk back and forth,
Clean water, good soil, and a diverse population,
A good place to live, great for vacation.

Because if he didn’t, he’d be noticeably pissed,
He’d figure it out, he’s smarter than Hawking,
When he’s meowing at us, he’s practically talking.

I’ve always been active, I’m grateful for that,
I thrive with a puck, not bad with a bat.
I love the Olympics, and the waving of flags,
On that glorious podium, not a shoulder could sag.

My hometown of Toronto, it needs to be noted
It’s where I grew up, and where I first voted,
Diversity, I know – it what makes us stand out,
And we all get along, in case you had doubts.

Though my office is small, it’s completely my own,
It’s where I run things from my computer and phone,
And I’m humbled and proud that my business is growing,
With plans for the future that don’t involve slowing.

Music, oh music, how could I forget?
I like it on vinyl, I’ll pass on cassettes,
Give me some indie, some electro, and funk,
Up at my cottage, on a bed or a bunk.

I adore maps, both the old and the new,
And my kindergarten teacher, who let me use glue.
I do love art, though can’t draw at all,
I still like the movies, but can’t stand the mall.

To my long-serving laptop, the one they call Mac,
In school and in business, you’ve had my back,
Some love for Steve Jobs, and to brilliant brains,
Those who enlighten, create, and explain.

To the podcast in general, podcasters at large,
It’s amazing what’s created, and how few charge,
It is now the age where information is shared,
Where you don’t need permission before content is aired.

I’m showing some thanks to the makers of pens,
And to camera companies that make a good lens,
To people who still build things with quality in mind,
Who put aside profit, to better mankind.

I want to thank manatees for being absurd,
I know I mentioned cheese, but what about curd?
To electricity, I think thee, for guiding the way,
Here comes the night, one flick, and it’s day.

To folks like Mr. Rogers and Mr. Dressup, too,
Who think of children, and all they can do.
Thank you in general to the old and the wise,
I hear your stories, and see into your eyes.

To crazy cartographers, and the makers of maps,
Who expanded perspective, and wonder, perhaps,
To folks who get up each time that they trip,
Who won’t be defined by a stumble or slip.

I respect the world’s forces much greater than me,
That help us ditch “I,” and start thinking in “We,”
It may be religion, a movement, a book,
That help us discover, to seek and to look.

I’ve got to mention you for reading all this,
Whether you’re a Mrs., a Mr., or Miss,
And not just this poem, but all that I do.
I couldn’t be me if it wasn’t for you.

To sunsets, the sunrise, the planets and stars,
To the everyday people, not presidents or czars,
Life is a journey, a moment, a vow,
Don’t wait for tomorrow, cherish right now.

A Soldier

A Soldier Poem by Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken Poem by Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having...

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Maya Angelou’s “Remembrance Poem” captures the profound longing and intimate connection between lovers. The poem evokes the warmth of shared moments, emphasizing physical touch and emotional resonance. Through vivid imagery, it conveys the speaker’s yearning for the lingering essence of love, highlighting the transformative power of intimacy and memory.

On The Pulse Of Morning

Maya Angelou’s “On The Pulse Of Morning” calls for unity and awakening amidst historical struggles. Nature—symbolized by the rock, river, and tree—invites humanity to confront the past, embrace peace, and strive for new beginnings. It emphasizes courage, hope, and the interconnectedness of all people as they seek a brighter future together.

Million Man March

Million Man March Poem by Maya Angelou The night has been long,The wound has been deep,The pit has been dark,And the walls have been steep.Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.Your hands were tied, your mouth was...

The Most Important Things In Life

The Most Important Things in Life

The most important things in life
Are not ‘things,’ most know
It’s the people in our lives
Who make our Hearts grow

Our family of Loved ones
Are the most important of all
They fill our lives with memories
Especially those who are small

The little simple moments
A smile, a hug, or glance
Whether in a photo, or our minds
Makes our Hearts sing and dance

Some friends are like family
They bloom perfectly in our Heart
Whether grown over the years
Or there right from the very start

Love, our greatest possession
It’s who we truly are
Giving and receiving Unconditionally
In life, we will go far

Good health is often taken for granted
Until something in the body goes wrong
Focusing on anything positive
Can bring relief along

Feeling appreciation
Speaking of our gratitude
Being thankful for all things
Is a Blessed attitude

Keeping an open mind
To learning all our days
Growth continues and expands
In hundreds of delightful ways

Shining our Inner-Light
Helping others along their way
Respecting the differences
Letting all have their own say

Tranquillity and Peace
A rested and calm mind
Practising meditation
Our own way, we can find

Faith, an individual thing
Not just for those religious
Simple hope, or a belief
That life is truly glorious

Inspiration lifts our Spirit
Helps us reach our goal
Whether given or received
It delights our eternal Soul

People are important
And the memories we build
Good health for a vital life
Inspiration, to be fulfilled

Appreciating and respecting
All of life, everywhere
Having faith in the Peace
And happiness to share

These are life’s treasures
And money has no part
But the greatest of them all
Is the Love in everyone’s Heart!

A Soldier

A Soldier Poem by Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

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In “Why Do I Love You Sir,” Emily Dickinson explores love’s irrational nature. She compares love to natural phenomena like the wind and lightning, emphasizing that true affection does not require explanation. The poem suggests that love exists beyond reason, embraced through its innate, unspoken power and beauty.

Remembrance

Maya Angelou’s “Remembrance Poem” captures the profound longing and intimate connection between lovers. The poem evokes the warmth of shared moments, emphasizing physical touch and emotional resonance. Through vivid imagery, it conveys the speaker’s yearning for the lingering essence of love, highlighting the transformative power of intimacy and memory.

On The Pulse Of Morning

Maya Angelou’s “On The Pulse Of Morning” calls for unity and awakening amidst historical struggles. Nature—symbolized by the rock, river, and tree—invites humanity to confront the past, embrace peace, and strive for new beginnings. It emphasizes courage, hope, and the interconnectedness of all people as they seek a brighter future together.

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Maya Angelou’s “Weekend Glory” captures the essence of life for working-class individuals who enjoy their weekends despite societal judgments. The speaker finds joy in simple pleasures, prioritizing self-care and socializing over materialism, while emphasizing the importance of hard work and resilience. Life may not be perfect, but it is fulfilling.

The Lesson

Maya Angelou’s poem expresses the cycle of life and death through vivid imagery of decay and resilience. Despite confronting defeat and the passage of time, the speaker’s passion for living prevails, embodying the struggle between mortality and the enduring spirit of love for life.

Touched by An Angel

Maya Angelou’s poem “Touched by an Angel” explores the transformative power of love. It highlights how love liberates individuals from loneliness and fear, allowing them to embrace life fully. The poem emphasizes that love, though demanding, brings freedom and courage, enabling people to confront their past and find joy.

I Want To Die

I Want To Die Poem by Abdul Wahab

Heavenly cursed and heavily sinned I
No more i like to add them, so, I want to die
And I want to become a holy ghost
Whom the people would like the most.
Like the retreating soldiers I like to come back
To my own permanent and eternal home
You may call it a suicide or martyrdom.

Gratitude by Cornelius Eady

Gratitude

I’m here
             to tell you 
                             an old story. 
                             This
Appears to be
                 my work.
                                I live
                                in the world,
Walk
         the streets
                          of New York,
                          this
Dear city.
             I want
                          to tell you
                          I’m 36
Years old,
             I have lived
                                in and against
                                my blood.
I want to tell you
                          I am grateful,
                                            because,
                                           (after all),
I am a black,
               American poet!
                                   I’m 36,
                                   and no one
Has to tell me
              about luck.
                            I mean:
                            after a reading
Someone asked me
                             once:
                                      If
                                      you weren’t
Doing this,
             what
                    (if anything)
                    would you be doing?
And I didn’t say
                      what we both
                                         understood.
                                         I’m
A black, American male.
                                      I own
                                              this particular story
                                              on this particular street
At this particular moment.
                                   This appears
                                                     to be
                                                     my work.
I’m 36 years old,
                         and all I have to do
                                                      is repeat
                                                      what I notice
Over
    and over,
                  all I have to do
                  is remember.
And to the famous poet
                                      who thinks
                                                       literature holds
                                                       no small musics:
Love.
       And to the publishers
                                           who believe
                                           in their marrow
There’s no profit
                             on the fringes:
                                                    Love.
                                                    And to those
Who need
                 the promise of wind,
                                                  the sound of branches
                                                  stirring
Beneath the line:
                           here’s
                                   another environment
                                   poised
To open.
              Everyone reminds me
                                                 what an amazing
                                                 Odyssey
I’m undertaking,
                          as well they should.
                                                         After all,
                                                         I’m a black,
American poet,
                          and my greatest weakness
                                                                     is an inability
                                                                     to sustain rage.
Who knows
                   what’ll happen next?
                                                    This appears to be one
                                                     for the books,
If you
        train your ears
                                for what’s
                                unstated
Beneath the congratulations(!)
                                                  That silence
                                                                     is my story,
                                                                     the pure celebration
(And shock)
                    of my face
                                     defying
                                     its gravity,
So to speak.
                     I claim
                               this tiny glee
                               not just
For myself,
                  but for my parents,
                                                 who shook their heads.
                                                 I’m older now
Than my father was
                                   when he had me,
                                                             which is no big deal,
                                                             except
I have personal knowledge
                                           of the wind
                                                             that tilts the head back.
                                                             And I claim
This loose-seed-in-the-air glee
                                                    on behalf of the
                                                    social studies teacher
I had in the tenth grade,
                                      a real bastard
                                                           who took me aside
                                                           after class
The afternoon
                     he heard I was leaving
                                                           for a private school,
                                                           just to let me know
He expected me
                       to drown out there,
                                                           that I held the knowledge
                                                           of the drowned man,
The regret
                 of ruined flesh
                                         in my eyes;
                                         which was fair enough,
Except
           I believe I’ve been teaching
                                                       far longer now
                                                       than he had that day,
And I know
                the blessing
                                   of a
                                   narrow escape.
And I claim
                this rooster-pull-down-morning glee
                                                                             on behalf of anyone
                                                                             who saw me coming.
And said yes,
                   even
                         when I was loud, cocky, 
                         insecure,
Even
      when all they could have seen
                                                        was the promise of a germ, 
                                                        even
When it meant
                       yielding ground.
                                                I am a bit older 
                                                than they were 
When I walked
                       into that room,
                                              or class
                                              or party, 
And I understand the value
                                            of the unstated push.
                                                                              A lucky man
                                                                              gets to sing
his name.
               I have survived
                                        long enough 
                                        to tell a bit 
Of an old story.
                        And to those
                                              who defend poetry
                                              against all foreign tongues:
Love.
         And to those who believe
                                                  a dropped clause
                                                  signifies encroachment:
Love. 
         And to the bullies who need
                                                       the musty air of
                                                       the clubhouse
All to themselves:
                            I am a brick in a house
                                                                 that is being built
                                                                 around your house.
I’m 36 years old,
                           a black, American poet.
                                                               Nearly all the things
                                                               that weren’t supposed to occur
Have happened, (anyway),
                                          and I have
                                                          a natural inability
                                                          to sustain rage,
Despite
             the evidence.
                                I have proof,
                                and a job that comes
As simple to me
                          as breathing.

I am Thankful for by Nancy J Carmody

I Am Thankful For by Nancy J Carmody I am thankful for …..the mess to clean up after a partybecause it means I have been surrounded by friends. ​…..the taxes that I paybecause it means that I’m employed. …..the clothes that fit a little too snugbecause it means I have...

Gratitude by Edgar Albert Guest

Gratitude by Edgar Albert Guest Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk along your way,Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile from day to day,Be grateful for the health you own, the work you find to do,For round about you there are men less fortunate than...

A Poem of Gratitude by Traveling Mitch

I’m grateful for change, the ups and the downs, Both happiness and sadness, the smiles and the frowns.I’m grateful to writing for giving me pause, To examine the world, for its beauty and flaws. To cheese, I thank you for obvious reasons, And I too must show love to...

The Most Important Things In Life

The Most Important Things in Life The most important things in lifeAre not ‘things,’ most knowIt’s the people in our livesWho make our Hearts grow Our family of Loved onesAre the most important of allThey fill our lives with memoriesEspecially those who are small The...

Be Thankful

Be Thankful

Be Thankful
 
Be thankful that you don’t already have everything you desire.
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
 
Be thankful when you don’t know something,
for it gives you the opportunity to learn.
 
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
 
Be thankful for your limitations,
because they give you opportunities for improvement.
 
Be thankful for each new challenge,
because it will build your strength and character.
 
Be thankful for your mistakes.
They will teach you valuable lessons.
 
Be thankful when you’re tired and weary,
because it means you’ve made a difference.
 
It’s easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who
are also thankful for the setbacks.
 
Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles,
and they can become your blessings.

by Author Unknown

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