From cradle to the grave,
From womb to musty tomb,
The sanity I crave
Is in a dining room
With family gathered there:
Thanksgiving, on a chill
November day—no tare
Subtracted, if good will
Shall draw us ever close.
Libations may besot,
Yet rare the overdose
Where blessings are forgot.
first published in The Lyric
C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.
A wonderful poem to bless Thanksgiving Day, Kip. May the blessing of it fall upon all of us.
Metric note: I read these lines as dimeters, but I can see why some might read them as trimeters. It hardly matters… the poem is still lovely.
Lovely. A sad but sensitive comment from one so young, Sarban..
Beautiful illustration by Cole as well, thanks to Evan.
Hope to see more of your work !
Dear Kip –
You are now the recipient of two comments from me, even though the first was meant for a different poem. So sorry, I got them mixed up.
As to your poem, how often at this time of year I think of the long family dinners, and the family members who attended. Thank you for an evocative poem; Thanksgiving is something to be honored, and you have done it proud I wish you a good one today, with friends, family, or both.
We went to a neighbor; nine people under a beautiful Victorian gilded ceiling, and a well-behaved white dog, who for weeks a few years ago was a pink and white dog, after I spilled red wine on him and it wouldn’t wash.. This year, he escaped disfigurement at my hands.
Wish you could have been there !
Evan’s choice of illustration suited the event, as well.
Your Thanksgiving poem would, with some minor adjustment, apply equally as well to December’s Christmas dinner.
This flexibility is only made possible through the concise description of common human experience.
Thank you all. I’m glad you liked it. And, Joe, I intended it as iamboc trimeter.
Iambic, that is.