Thanksgiving

 

Children running everywhere,

Wrap them up,

Tap the spirit,

Try roping the clouds,

Thanksgiving…living,

Where we are,

People of every age,

Gather this day,

To give thanks,

When families gather,

Acorns do not fall far from the tree,

When families gather acorns,

 Do not fall far from the tree,

Thanksgiving erases commas,

Thanksgiving embraces:

God,

Love,

Thanks for everything!

Harvest and abundance,

Family,

And, community!

Thanks be to God!

Thanks are to God!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson

November 26, 2013

 

e.e. cummings I love you

e.e. cummings I love you

you are the best

yah, you are!

my mom loved you, and so did I

why?

you were more feeling

than direction

you were more life

than style

i really like that

Even though I have styled this
poem

thanks!

 my poem buddy!


Peter Lowell Paulson
November 22, 2013

 

Sweet November Days

 

Sweet November days colder than the rest,
Colors in our eyes; reds and orange the best,
We walk this autumn field in early older age,
Your tender hand in mine is scripted on each page.

 

The future is so bright with colors bursting forth,
Within this life of hope; I think its pointing north!
I thank the Lord above for all that He has giv’n,
For springtime flowers bright, and winter white snow driv’n,

 

Where ever life may lead the autumn comes to all,
The urban; country roads see colored leaves of fall,
Just find a finer friend and grab them by the hand,
And, guide them to the world, with red and orange so grand!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
November 20, 2013


 

Imagination (A Poem for the Grandkids)

You can find imagination, said the little elf,
It’s in a book just climb the ladder on the latter shelf,
Just brush away the cobwebs, and the layers of dusty, dust,
Now reach your hand back to the tome in all the musty must.

And in midst of every page what mystery you’ll find,
The days of blustery pirates and the loot of every kind,
They’ll blast their fiery cannonades into the southern skies
The mermaids will all congregate before your very eyes.

Then sail away we’ll travel to a dry and desert land,
Where sultans buried with their treasure in a tomb of sand,
With goblets, plates and coins of gold, fine emeralds, rubies, too,
Reflected in the diamonds, and sapphires, oh so blue!

Oh, finally to the northern woods where Thor and Odin roam,
Where raw and strong live here amongst the weathered troll and gnome,
And, Viking ship on cold North Sea seeks treasure for their trust,
The elf says it’s all in the tome in layers of musty dust!

Peter Lowell Paulson
November 14, 2013

Moses

Moses

 

It was your golden eyes my feline friend,
As clear as a mountain brook,
Your look,
Was piercing!
Intelligent, and knowing,
You knew me,
And yet you loved me, too!
What a friend,
To everyone!
Grandkids, and other kittens,
You were a room “mother”,
A diplomat,
An example of, “If you don’t like cats, then there is ME!”
I will dispel the rumor,
Make a movie, and call it, “Moses the Cat”’
I had:
Soft sable fur,
I was:
Pet-able, amiable,
And, yet still a boy,
A grey tiger,
Striped like one, too!
Oh, silver tabby,
Monster at twenty-two pounds,
How still you were this morning,
Through tears I saw that you had drifted away in our sleep,
We laid you in the garden not far from the house,
There will be tears, like now,
But, mostly smiles and laughter,
In remembering,
The turn of your head,
The look of discern,
With no concern,
In your golden eyes!
I love you, Moses!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
November 11, 2013

the Empty Chair

 

The Empty Chair

 

The empty chair,
No battle drawn,
My father’s there,
Thirty years gone,

 

My mother died,
One year ago,
She would confide,
She loved him so.

 

We’d sit and talk,
My Mom and I,
Her hands would balk,
I fed her pie.

 

But, now she’s gone,
I see one chair,
Out in the lawn,
My father’s there!

 

A boy will walk,
To see this man,
To sit and talk,
With no demand.

 

“We men won’t bow”.
“We do not bend”
“Hold your wife now.”
“Unto the end!”

 

Thanksgiving Day,
All wishes willed,
No empty chair,
My cup is filled!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
November 6, 2013

Chatter Chatter

Chatter Chatter

 

Chatter Chatter

Chatter; chatter,
What's the matter,
Corn bread dry,
Not thin; not fatter,
Too much corn meal,
Drier batter,
One more egg,
Is that the Chatter?
Much less corn meal,
In the batter,
Time to pitter,
Time to patter,
Chitter: chitter,
Chatter; Chatter.

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
November 4, 2013

 

Nonsense poem
Fun, fun, fun...