Two years ago today, my grandfather passed away. He was a great man. To be honest with you, I feared him greatly. He was a loving man, but he had some pretty strict standards. I could write for hours on end about how much I respected him, and also about how many things about him simply frustrated me. You may still have your grandparents around. Please don't neglect the time you have with them.
I loved, and still love my grandfather, but I would never desire to have him back here; not for the fact that he was a hard man, but because his faith, as he said, was in Jesus Christ. If that is the case, then I am looking forward to being in the same place as he. Why would I want him to come back to this sin-filled earth from the glory he is enjoying. He gets to be with Jesus. Man, I can't wait to have that!
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/6/07
-A poem in memory of Grandpa
(The day after Grandpa passed away)
Horace Joseph Pollard
In times past, and there were many,
I could never find the words to say how much I care.
But when I saw your journey through my life
I cannot cease to remember the cause for which to joy.
Your hands, though often clenched, were open all the same.
Hollowed palms with enough to hold,
That I might receive your hug.
It may have seemed you as a hardened man,
Yet I could talk and find this one of whom there is shining light.
Grace was in your fingers when you had me smell your fist.
Never would I make that mistake again.
The times of joy and laughter were brought about
By your love for family.
Instruction was your gift, and you let us know it often.
Breaking often where your knees from holding boys over it.
A traveling milkman with a story to tell, and now…
It may be weird to not have you here,
But to know of your place, which you have received in glory,
Can never be considered odd.
Your faith was in your Savior,
And to that fact you held truth.
And now I know that I will see you again;
Not as a twinkle in my eye,
Or as a shiver in my spine,
Or as a ripple on the waves,
But as you are known in Heaven;
As a child of the King.
And this is why I can smile.
Praise Jesus name!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
The god of Make-Believe
Many of the poems I send over here are written in the past. In an unusual case, I am sending an unedited poem that I just wrote today. This poem is in contrast to the one I previously did called, "God is Life" which is about the love and all-knowing nature of God.
Many people, in many places, have many different ideas about God. Some believe there isn't a God; some believe in the God of the Bible; and some even make up their own beliefs about God, and think because they believe in a God that their views definately have to be correct.
The problem with this last view, the one I will be writing about, is that they take their opinion as fact, and dismiss what the perfect, holy Bible has to say. This poem takes the latter view, and shall we say, throws out all opinion but gives them the Biblical view. Ere' I say, the problem one may find with this poem is that it has no Bible verses in it, just Bible truth plain and simple.
Please enjoy
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/4/09
The god of Make-Believe
This god you made up,
with a ‘love only’ mentality;
this god that will not take away
the joy from man for enjoying sin more;
this god that will not give the sentence of punishment
for disobeying his command;
this god that sits on a throne of red and green
with tinsel and bows, and hands out candy;
this god that lets men worship however they want;
this god that couldn’t defeat the devil
because he would never hurt anything;
this god that never wrestles with the hearts of men;
this god that would never judge anyone
for the simple reason that everyone would be doomed;
this god that would never create a hell,
let alone send someone there;
this god that can’t be what the Bible says of him
or he would be politically incorrect.
This make-believe god can’t fix the problem of sin in your heart,
but the God of the Bible can.
This make believe god can’t make retribution for sin,
But the God of the Bible is a God is a God of wrath.
A god that men make up
is a god that glosses over sin and righteousness,
and accepts every man,
but the God of the Bible respects no man’s person.
It seems there is a big difference.
I’d rather be shocked at the wrath of God now,
and turn from my sin,
than wait till it is eternally too late to find out how wrong I was.
Many people, in many places, have many different ideas about God. Some believe there isn't a God; some believe in the God of the Bible; and some even make up their own beliefs about God, and think because they believe in a God that their views definately have to be correct.
The problem with this last view, the one I will be writing about, is that they take their opinion as fact, and dismiss what the perfect, holy Bible has to say. This poem takes the latter view, and shall we say, throws out all opinion but gives them the Biblical view. Ere' I say, the problem one may find with this poem is that it has no Bible verses in it, just Bible truth plain and simple.
Please enjoy
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/4/09
The god of Make-Believe
This god you made up,
with a ‘love only’ mentality;
this god that will not take away
the joy from man for enjoying sin more;
this god that will not give the sentence of punishment
for disobeying his command;
this god that sits on a throne of red and green
with tinsel and bows, and hands out candy;
this god that lets men worship however they want;
this god that couldn’t defeat the devil
because he would never hurt anything;
this god that never wrestles with the hearts of men;
this god that would never judge anyone
for the simple reason that everyone would be doomed;
this god that would never create a hell,
let alone send someone there;
this god that can’t be what the Bible says of him
or he would be politically incorrect.
This make-believe god can’t fix the problem of sin in your heart,
but the God of the Bible can.
This make believe god can’t make retribution for sin,
But the God of the Bible is a God is a God of wrath.
A god that men make up
is a god that glosses over sin and righteousness,
and accepts every man,
but the God of the Bible respects no man’s person.
It seems there is a big difference.
I’d rather be shocked at the wrath of God now,
and turn from my sin,
than wait till it is eternally too late to find out how wrong I was.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
God is Life
Here's a short one. The idea to this blog may not be very clear yet, but because I love to write, I want to give others the opportunity to read some of the stuff I have written. Feel free to say if it was garbage. Sure, people say when stuff is to their liking, but it is rare when someone cuts down the writer, and says they couldn't understand it, or even if it was shallow. Please feel free. Keep me from the sin of pride. Too much praise is unbalanced.
One reason why I love Esther, among the millions, is that she is not afraid to let me know if something needs work. She, a close second to God, is my great inspiration. I love her very much.
Please enjoy...
God Is Life
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Such a question of His being
Something still my eyes not seeing.
All the fancies of this world
Loving hands have all unfurled.
What is my life without Him
Cares, desires fading dim.
All care for sparrows of the skies
Never closing are His eyes.
Before this sentence e’er began
My thoughts He knew, each breath, each ban.
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
One reason why I love Esther, among the millions, is that she is not afraid to let me know if something needs work. She, a close second to God, is my great inspiration. I love her very much.
Please enjoy...
God Is Life
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Such a question of His being
Something still my eyes not seeing.
All the fancies of this world
Loving hands have all unfurled.
What is my life without Him
Cares, desires fading dim.
All care for sparrows of the skies
Never closing are His eyes.
Before this sentence e’er began
My thoughts He knew, each breath, each ban.
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Author's explanation to Innocence
Yesterday, I put up a poem called Innocence. Today, I am going to try to explain in as well as I can. I'll get right into it...
1st off - starting with the title, Innocence, and down through the rest of the poem, each line has exactly 9 letters. Count them if you don't believe me. I was writing this poem from the point of view of a 9 year old boy, right at the time in life when you are no longer a little no-nothing child, but yet not a sophisticated (ha!!!) teenager.
The boy is watching another child, swing on a swing, not just any swing, but their personal swing. The child on the swing is genderless (sometimes it changes depending on my mood).
The child on the swing, soars through the air and jumps into a pile of leaves (yellow and reds). Guess what season it is? The season when everything starts to die. Yup, Halloween. No just messing.
"Your blank eyes soar broad, faintly in the clouds and back in view again." Now the child gets back on the swing, after jumping off and landing in the leaves. As the boy watches the other child from the ground, the explanation he gives is of him going high (faintly in the clouds), and then coming back down (and back in view again). With the child on their way back down, the boy is getting frustrated. Ready to see this?
"Stop flyin’ on my swing- it’s my turn to shatter this sound barrier." The child from the ground has expressed his desire to see the other child get off HIS swing. See the controlling factor of the boy? He can't have somebody else enjoying themself on HIS swing. The sound barrier is simply to show that he knows something about going fast. He's heard of Mach 1 and loves to imagine himself going fast. He is past the point of "chase me, Daddy" and thinking he is still faster than Dad, but has not gotten the childish sensation out of his head to imagine himself being the fastest in the world, even if it is swinging from a plastic swing.
"Do you see the changes in the sky? I am twinkling now under a star." Have you ever stretched back in the swing, and leaned back as far as you can, holding on to the chains with a tight grip while your hair practically touches the ground. Something tells me that I'm not the only one who has. He is stretched out, looking upside down as he looks behind him at the open sky of darkness. But the light-headed feeling he has almost makes him feel starry, and dreamy, and he is the one twinkling. Picture the little birdies above his head. Did you notice that? Oh, maybe I just added that for some fun.
"As it’s flashed in as I squint, throwing a blackness to the back of my brain." The starry, hazy feeling he has is starting to make him light-headed, causing him to have a pain in his head (the squinting). Now do you see what the blackness in his brain is about? When a child feels pain, what is their first reaction, especially when it is something they have never experienced before? They think they are about to die. Now I am not saying that this is every child, but many will start freaking out at the sight of blood, a weird bump, a rash, etc. Why? They don't understand what happened, so it MUST be fatal.
"Forcing me to reach in-to deep dry grass." Notice that this is an involuntary action. The boy has no control over what happens. It is not another person that forces him off the swing into the grass, but the feeling in his head, and the squinting from the pain that has caused him to lose his balance. If you want, you could say that the other child, who for a while in this poem has stepped off the scenes, is the one that forced him off by pushing him, and that would work, but that wasn't what was going through my mind. Still, feel free to interprite it as you will.
"As my sight goes dim, waking up, lying on this Earth, flat with a deafening laugh thru the ground." Now the effects of his actions are taking hold. He is lying on the grass, in pain, lost his sight(momentarily) from hitting his head, because that's the first thing that is going to hit the ground when you are practically lying over the seat upside-down. His position: flat on the Earth; his eyes: shut. he is hurt, but through all of this, he still can hear the sound of the other child, the one that he told to get off his swing, that is laughing at him. That is the deafening laugh. The child that he told to get off the swing has watched him hurt himself, and they are loving it.
What about naming the poem Vindication. Nah, I like this title. Here's why...
The children, though innocent in theory, still have the nature as human beings to enjoy other people's demise. I felt it to be a fitting title to such a weighty poem. So much joy can come from being a child, but oh, we still remember the times when someone laughted at our pain. I am not trying to be sinister in any regard. Just think of childhood. We go back in our mind to the days when everything was innocent, and what did we say? I can't wait til I'm older! As children, we learn lessons that we soon forget. So many people hate being a kid, but when they look back on life, it almost seems that they would long for the days of innocence again only to forget the many things that caused us to loathe it so much.
1st off - starting with the title, Innocence, and down through the rest of the poem, each line has exactly 9 letters. Count them if you don't believe me. I was writing this poem from the point of view of a 9 year old boy, right at the time in life when you are no longer a little no-nothing child, but yet not a sophisticated (ha!!!) teenager.
The boy is watching another child, swing on a swing, not just any swing, but their personal swing. The child on the swing is genderless (sometimes it changes depending on my mood).
The child on the swing, soars through the air and jumps into a pile of leaves (yellow and reds). Guess what season it is? The season when everything starts to die. Yup, Halloween. No just messing.
"Your blank eyes soar broad, faintly in the clouds and back in view again." Now the child gets back on the swing, after jumping off and landing in the leaves. As the boy watches the other child from the ground, the explanation he gives is of him going high (faintly in the clouds), and then coming back down (and back in view again). With the child on their way back down, the boy is getting frustrated. Ready to see this?
"Stop flyin’ on my swing- it’s my turn to shatter this sound barrier." The child from the ground has expressed his desire to see the other child get off HIS swing. See the controlling factor of the boy? He can't have somebody else enjoying themself on HIS swing. The sound barrier is simply to show that he knows something about going fast. He's heard of Mach 1 and loves to imagine himself going fast. He is past the point of "chase me, Daddy" and thinking he is still faster than Dad, but has not gotten the childish sensation out of his head to imagine himself being the fastest in the world, even if it is swinging from a plastic swing.
"Do you see the changes in the sky? I am twinkling now under a star." Have you ever stretched back in the swing, and leaned back as far as you can, holding on to the chains with a tight grip while your hair practically touches the ground. Something tells me that I'm not the only one who has. He is stretched out, looking upside down as he looks behind him at the open sky of darkness. But the light-headed feeling he has almost makes him feel starry, and dreamy, and he is the one twinkling. Picture the little birdies above his head. Did you notice that? Oh, maybe I just added that for some fun.
"As it’s flashed in as I squint, throwing a blackness to the back of my brain." The starry, hazy feeling he has is starting to make him light-headed, causing him to have a pain in his head (the squinting). Now do you see what the blackness in his brain is about? When a child feels pain, what is their first reaction, especially when it is something they have never experienced before? They think they are about to die. Now I am not saying that this is every child, but many will start freaking out at the sight of blood, a weird bump, a rash, etc. Why? They don't understand what happened, so it MUST be fatal.
"Forcing me to reach in-to deep dry grass." Notice that this is an involuntary action. The boy has no control over what happens. It is not another person that forces him off the swing into the grass, but the feeling in his head, and the squinting from the pain that has caused him to lose his balance. If you want, you could say that the other child, who for a while in this poem has stepped off the scenes, is the one that forced him off by pushing him, and that would work, but that wasn't what was going through my mind. Still, feel free to interprite it as you will.
"As my sight goes dim, waking up, lying on this Earth, flat with a deafening laugh thru the ground." Now the effects of his actions are taking hold. He is lying on the grass, in pain, lost his sight(momentarily) from hitting his head, because that's the first thing that is going to hit the ground when you are practically lying over the seat upside-down. His position: flat on the Earth; his eyes: shut. he is hurt, but through all of this, he still can hear the sound of the other child, the one that he told to get off his swing, that is laughing at him. That is the deafening laugh. The child that he told to get off the swing has watched him hurt himself, and they are loving it.
What about naming the poem Vindication. Nah, I like this title. Here's why...
The children, though innocent in theory, still have the nature as human beings to enjoy other people's demise. I felt it to be a fitting title to such a weighty poem. So much joy can come from being a child, but oh, we still remember the times when someone laughted at our pain. I am not trying to be sinister in any regard. Just think of childhood. We go back in our mind to the days when everything was innocent, and what did we say? I can't wait til I'm older! As children, we learn lessons that we soon forget. So many people hate being a kid, but when they look back on life, it almost seems that they would long for the days of innocence again only to forget the many things that caused us to loathe it so much.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Innocence
Something I learned through writing school is a very important key to life. At least I think it is. Just because you don't understand something, doesn't make it stupid or worthless. Poetry is definately that way. Literature classes are full of speculation to what the author was trying to say in his/her story or poem. I have always found the Bible to be an amazing book for many reasons: one, being that it is perfect (I have tried to find errors, but can't (neither has any pip-squeak professor), and though there are many other reasons I can say, this other reason will be sufficient to help you to understand what I really wanted to say in the first place. The other reason the Bible is simply amazing to me is because we have the author of it to explain every detail if we would just go to him, study the words he gave us, and trust Him for the truth of it in utter perfection.
The benefit you have to this blog is that some poems may cause you to scratch your head, but you have the creator of the writings right here if you need me.
In this case, I will give you the poem today, and then tomorrow I will try to explain what was going through my pee-sized head when I wrote it. Please don't look at this as the only way it can be interpreted. As a writer, this can be just as much of a hinderance as a benefit. Please don't make that statement to be true. I know this is not a poem about God, but something about it always makes me smile.
Please enjoy...
Innocence
You, soarin’
in the yard
on my swing,
flyin’ away
ripping in-
to a pile of
yellow and
reds. Your
blank eyes
soar broad,
faintly in
the clouds
and back in
view again.
Stop flyin’
on my swing-
it’s my turn
to shatter
this sound
barrier. Do
you see the
changes in
the sky? I am
twinkling
now under a
star as it’s
flashed in
as I squint,
throwing a
blackness
to the back
of my brain,
forcing me
to reach in-
to deas it’s
flashed in
as I squint,
throwing a
blackness
to the back
of my brain,
forcing me
to reach in-
to deep dry
grass as my
sight goes
dim, waking
up, lying on
this Earth,
flat with a
deafening
laugh thru
the ground.
The benefit you have to this blog is that some poems may cause you to scratch your head, but you have the creator of the writings right here if you need me.
In this case, I will give you the poem today, and then tomorrow I will try to explain what was going through my pee-sized head when I wrote it. Please don't look at this as the only way it can be interpreted. As a writer, this can be just as much of a hinderance as a benefit. Please don't make that statement to be true. I know this is not a poem about God, but something about it always makes me smile.
Please enjoy...
Innocence
You, soarin’
in the yard
on my swing,
flyin’ away
ripping in-
to a pile of
yellow and
reds. Your
blank eyes
soar broad,
faintly in
the clouds
and back in
view again.
Stop flyin’
on my swing-
it’s my turn
to shatter
this sound
barrier. Do
you see the
changes in
the sky? I am
twinkling
now under a
star as it’s
flashed in
as I squint,
throwing a
blackness
to the back
of my brain,
forcing me
to reach in-
to deas it’s
flashed in
as I squint,
throwing a
blackness
to the back
of my brain,
forcing me
to reach in-
to deep dry
grass as my
sight goes
dim, waking
up, lying on
this Earth,
flat with a
deafening
laugh thru
the ground.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Welcomed
This poem is for all those who have been in a church, and felt it was nicer going than coming. So many people boast of having a friendly assembly, but if everyone was like them, you would never know it. Props to those who actually try to show people that being a Christian should be evidenced in a friedly face, a smile, and a 'better than what the world can offer' type attitude. To those people who have been in church for years and still have the same 'who cares about you' attitude, may this poem be a warning of how annoying you are to other Christians. Please stop hurting the cause of Christ. Love Daniel:)
WELCOMED
I walk to the door
of your less-than-graceful assembly;
no greetings satisfy my ears;
only the stinging sound
of the nearby church bell in the corridor
as is smacks the sides of my brain
in a fluid left and right motion,
yelling for me to distance myself from the premises.
It’s screams open my pores,
howling through the fog
and the dripping
coming from the overhanging roof.
As I enter, eyes grimace for me to leave.
The organ flouts out a sound
of condescending discrimination.
The seat I take has scurrying lunatics
who file to the other side.
The tiny girl’s eyes grow big
as I plop down next to her mommy.
Shoulders turn away from me;
heads, from in front, glaze back
to see what has just intruded.
The usher walks to the opening of the pew,
stops and gestures
for me to take the packet from his hand,
never saying a word.
I open it and read:
Welcome to our friendly church…
WELCOMED
I walk to the door
of your less-than-graceful assembly;
no greetings satisfy my ears;
only the stinging sound
of the nearby church bell in the corridor
as is smacks the sides of my brain
in a fluid left and right motion,
yelling for me to distance myself from the premises.
It’s screams open my pores,
howling through the fog
and the dripping
coming from the overhanging roof.
As I enter, eyes grimace for me to leave.
The organ flouts out a sound
of condescending discrimination.
The seat I take has scurrying lunatics
who file to the other side.
The tiny girl’s eyes grow big
as I plop down next to her mommy.
Shoulders turn away from me;
heads, from in front, glaze back
to see what has just intruded.
The usher walks to the opening of the pew,
stops and gestures
for me to take the packet from his hand,
never saying a word.
I open it and read:
Welcome to our friendly church…
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thanks taken
I wrote this poem yesterday, following the great food and time with Esther's family. I am so thankful for Esther. I love her very much. I have so much to be thankful, but I would be lying if I told you that I am as thankful as I should be.
As the Bible says in Romans 8:12, " Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh," I know that if it were not for God, I would not have any blessings. If you read this verse as it comes down through the chapter, you would notice that God is dealing with men about how to live unto him, not through the flesh, but through the Spirit. With all Christ has done for us, we are in his debt. We shouldn't receive gifts from him, but he should receive offerings of praise through a heart of gratitude, knowing where we deserve to be, and that is in Hell. Were it not for his compassion, his mercy, his grace, his justice, his righteousness, I would have overlooked my sinful condition and neglected the God that died for me. Thank God for his longsuffering, and for the many opportunities I was given to hear the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, and I definately want to thank him for what he has done in saving me eternally.
This poem speaks of the neglect this country has for God. We have named the holiday
Thanksgiving, but how seldom do we even think of all God has done for us and all we have to be thankful for. Before Thanksgiving even comes, stores are gearing up for Christ-mass, streets are lined with messages of gifts and buying.
So many church organizations are spreading the message to "Keep Christ in Christmas." I don't hate people for celebrating Christmas, I just wish Christians, first of all, would stop following the path of the world and stop taking God out of Thanksgiving and especially out of their churches. How soon do we forget what God has done. Please don't simply celebrate a day. Remember to give God the glory and thanksgiving for all he has done. One day of giving thanks, just because it is the national holiday, can't suffice, but in all the things that you want to get done over these days, whether it be for the Thanksgiving day, or in preparations for Christ-mass, please remember to not take away the thanks that God deserves.
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
11/26/09
Thanks taken
Right after the time of family gathering
and sitting around the table,
stuffing ourselves till the memories
of ever having that grumbling feeling
are buried deep under a tundra
of mashed potatoes, and corn, and turkey,
separated by an hour of desserts
we say we eat just once a year,
but they’ll be back again in just a month.
We gather under the realm of thanks,
and remember all we have for that fleeting moment
while the turkey is roasting,
and the stomachs are reeling
at the thought of grandma’s pumpkin pie.
Something happens to our memories
as the day turns to moonlit crest.
Our thanks flees away into the swinging doors
with ‘that’s mine’ written all over it
in the season of asking for more
from a fat scotch-drowned impersonator.
Soon, lists are made of gifts we don’t deserve,
gifts we are so unthankful for
come through a season that has a droopy shade of red and green
with sprinkled snowflakes covering it.
We spread the streets with wooden soldiers
and forget the thanks before the past season dawns.
Each time the thanks gets shorter, and the eating gets more.
We forget the God that gave us plenty,
and set to the couch to watch the glory’s of men
paraded down broadway and punted from the endzone.
We forsake our thanks, and bring in a season of hope and cheer
with cursing and bitterness ringing in the holiday festivities.
We are so rich in bounty,
yet so quiet in our praise of the Almighty.
Something has drained our hearts of thanksgiving,
and giving it the title to be remembered but once a year.
If we, being so full, forget the One who gave,
feel no surprise when he retricts the blessings he has given.
As the Bible says in Romans 8:12, " Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh," I know that if it were not for God, I would not have any blessings. If you read this verse as it comes down through the chapter, you would notice that God is dealing with men about how to live unto him, not through the flesh, but through the Spirit. With all Christ has done for us, we are in his debt. We shouldn't receive gifts from him, but he should receive offerings of praise through a heart of gratitude, knowing where we deserve to be, and that is in Hell. Were it not for his compassion, his mercy, his grace, his justice, his righteousness, I would have overlooked my sinful condition and neglected the God that died for me. Thank God for his longsuffering, and for the many opportunities I was given to hear the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, and I definately want to thank him for what he has done in saving me eternally.
This poem speaks of the neglect this country has for God. We have named the holiday
Thanksgiving, but how seldom do we even think of all God has done for us and all we have to be thankful for. Before Thanksgiving even comes, stores are gearing up for Christ-mass, streets are lined with messages of gifts and buying.
So many church organizations are spreading the message to "Keep Christ in Christmas." I don't hate people for celebrating Christmas, I just wish Christians, first of all, would stop following the path of the world and stop taking God out of Thanksgiving and especially out of their churches. How soon do we forget what God has done. Please don't simply celebrate a day. Remember to give God the glory and thanksgiving for all he has done. One day of giving thanks, just because it is the national holiday, can't suffice, but in all the things that you want to get done over these days, whether it be for the Thanksgiving day, or in preparations for Christ-mass, please remember to not take away the thanks that God deserves.
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
11/26/09
Thanks taken
Right after the time of family gathering
and sitting around the table,
stuffing ourselves till the memories
of ever having that grumbling feeling
are buried deep under a tundra
of mashed potatoes, and corn, and turkey,
separated by an hour of desserts
we say we eat just once a year,
but they’ll be back again in just a month.
We gather under the realm of thanks,
and remember all we have for that fleeting moment
while the turkey is roasting,
and the stomachs are reeling
at the thought of grandma’s pumpkin pie.
Something happens to our memories
as the day turns to moonlit crest.
Our thanks flees away into the swinging doors
with ‘that’s mine’ written all over it
in the season of asking for more
from a fat scotch-drowned impersonator.
Soon, lists are made of gifts we don’t deserve,
gifts we are so unthankful for
come through a season that has a droopy shade of red and green
with sprinkled snowflakes covering it.
We spread the streets with wooden soldiers
and forget the thanks before the past season dawns.
Each time the thanks gets shorter, and the eating gets more.
We forget the God that gave us plenty,
and set to the couch to watch the glory’s of men
paraded down broadway and punted from the endzone.
We forsake our thanks, and bring in a season of hope and cheer
with cursing and bitterness ringing in the holiday festivities.
We are so rich in bounty,
yet so quiet in our praise of the Almighty.
Something has drained our hearts of thanksgiving,
and giving it the title to be remembered but once a year.
If we, being so full, forget the One who gave,
feel no surprise when he retricts the blessings he has given.
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