Poetry Monday: thanksgiving (the lowercase version)

Poetry Monday was started by Diane, of On the Alberta/Montana Border, taken up by Delores of Mumblings, and by Joan (who contributes in the comments here) and me. Anyone who'd like to join in is welcome to do so on any of our blogs, or you can leave us your blog address in the comments if you are posting on your own blog.

Thanksgiving holiday in Canada is one week from today, and I have a special post for that day.

Today, though, the topic suggested by our fearless leader Diane is "thanksgiving" and I'm using it in the general sense, with a lowercase "t".

Try as I might, I could not come up with an original poem that encompasses my gratitude for all I have. The topic seems huge, and when it comes to poetry I'm better at humour than serious topics.

Therefore, I would like to share a favourite poem with you from author e. e. cummings. Perhaps you are already familiar with it; both the author and this poem are well known and well-studied by high school students here, and that may be true in other areas as well.

This poem expresses my feelings completely in a way that I'd never be able to do. Not holding religious beliefs myself, it could be considered ironic that I love this poem as much as I do. But I choose to interpret the concept of God in an exceedingly broad way, and its usage does not--for me--change in any way the power and beauty of e. e. cummings' words. (Source: click here)


i thank You God for most this amazing

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

*****

the spring version of amazing

 

the summer version of amazing

the fall version . . . where leaping greenly turns to fiery reds and oranges and yellows . . .

. . . and winter . . . still amazing with no leaves at all . . .

(All photos by Procrastinating Donkey, who has been procrastinating up a storm lately. You may (or may not) recall that last year at this time, I spoke of the feeling of standing on train tracks with a train bearing down on me from behind--the feeling I get every year from September to December. Well, that train has crept up on my procrastinating self again. Currently I am busy sewing draft blockers  for a craft sale. Today I sewed one completely inside out. And I sewed another one shut at both ends before I had a chance to stuff it. I'm a little afraid of what tomorrow will bring.)