As Thanksgiving Day approaches our minds reflect
upon those things for which we can be thankful.
This year, in particular, as we attempt to deflect
some of the year's more unpleasant, distasteful
aspects recently passed, perhaps our thought
might linger on those very things we would rather
forget. The coronavirus, for instance, has wrought
havoc on the entire world, and still it grows . . . stronger.
Many have lost loved ones as it ravaged our homes,
our lives, our nations, our world. Has it beleaguered
our universe too? Our losses seem greater in domes
fabricated by the quarantines and other featured
components of our lives. Can we see--e'en for a moment
that we are blessed to be alive and able to ruminate
and to formulate gratitude in the losses we repudiate.
E'en through the unpleasant times and events
occurring throughout the year, our world has paused
to focus upon giving medical care in hospital tents
erected by the armed forces, necessitated and caused
by a desire to save lives. In countries large and small,
pharmaceutical teams have hovered over petri dishes,
laboring hours upon end, striving to answer the call
for vaccine and treatment options to grant wishes
and supply clinical trials. The scientific world
pulls together, competing to be the frontrunner
in this race with death after being hurled
headfirst into a wall toward which time's gunner
attempts to take away more precious lives.
Children are losing parents, and husbands are losing wives,
hospitals are losing the battle in which each strives.
As we approach this special Day of Thanksgiving,
I implore the world to join with us in prayer--
bowed heads and humble hearts of the living.
While we collectively ask for strength to care
about the needs of those who are hurting,
and join together in prayers of uplifting praise,
offering thanks for the resources relieving
limitations on production, mending the frays
of education, entertainment, and self-care.
Technology, far more advanced than ever before,
has opened doors and built bridges o'er
land and sea to bring a hurting world together.
Let us bow our heads in a world-wide prayer
thanking God for bringing us together
and for the support we receive from each other.
The moon, so large and full tonight
hovers above the mountaintop
billowing out so round and bright
one might think it is broad daylight.
Driving up, one may want to stop,
take a picture -- romantic sight.
I ha' ne'er seen such bonny light
so near and clear, tugging a tear,
unrestricted, soaring through night
on a course of purposeful might
but pausing here with strength to share,
painting mem'ry to be held tight.
What are you saying, Silver Moon,
singing such a delightful tune?
Holding me back with song you croon,
lighting my path, lunar lumen
capture my heart, making me swoon --
elegance royal, Silver Moon!
You call me to your silver side
with pow'r mighty, controlling tide,
nary a cloud for you to hide
shining face with a smile so wide;
clearing a trail whence we may ride --
reflecting romance, Silver Tide!
Glimmering light shining so bright,
catching a breath upon the heath,
capturing eye beneath the sky --
why, oh why; please tell me why,
to those beneath, do you bequeath
mem'ry tonight -- beautiful sight?
I'll ne'er forget your light tonight,
mem'rable sway in bright array
giving my heart such a sweet start
with stunning art, the dark you thwart
and bring night-day into the fray --
curing the blight of inky night.
As winter closes in, nights turn from cool to cold; wind chimes echo season’s sweet carol. Cyclone snowstorms circle a northern realm dumping snow and ice — Old Man Winter’s helm. A deep, silent blanket quiets all and frees a wonderland of miniature trees mingled with houses dwarfed by such depths of icy precipitation and street troughs now cleared deep ‘mongst the puffy white blanket mounds draped across the frigid landscape net. Living in winter’s wonderland of snow hinders all daily movement to and fro; no designs from Jack Frost on the window for it only reveals cold, bleak, white snow blanketing all, piled high to that tree bough — Winter’s Wonderland reels all motion — Slow!
Photo Above: Snow and Ice Covered Walls by Amanda Vick @ Unsplash.com.
When I was growing up, my mamma and daddy quoted a lot of ‘old sayings’ in response to situations encountered in daily living. Oftentimes, when I was discouraged by not succeeding at something I had tried, my mamma would say, “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and try it all over again.” At the time, I did not realize just how much her sayings helped me to do just that — move on. Inevitably, when I tried again, I would move closer to my intended goal. This would encourage me, and I would keep trying. Each time, as I moved a little closer to my goal, I was encouraged just enough to ‘try again.’
I thought of and referred to the saying earlier tonight, and I decided to find out from whence the saying derives. So, I did a Google search on it. According to Wikipedia, the source most readily credited is The song, “Pick Yourself Up,” sang by Frank Sinatra, composed by Jerome Kern in 1936 with lyrics written by Dorothy Fields. Wikipedia provides some further information regarding the song. “Like most popular songs of the era, it features a 32-bar chorus with an extended coda. It’s rhyming scheme is AABA style, with some variations among the A sections.” The song was first introduced by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in the 1936 film ‘Swing Time.’ Astaire also recorded the song on his own that year for the Brunswick lable (Eds. Wikipedia). In addition, Wikipedia shows the song was recorded by several other artists and has been utilized by a number of television shows through the decades.
While I do not believe the ‘old saying’ originated with the song, I do believe it became more prominent with the publication; and it brought the words to my mammas attention. I am grateful it did. Many is the time that I relied on strength from these words. It is a strength I tried to hand down to my children; hopefully, they are now passing it down to their children.
Since I believed the song was not the origin of the saying, a bit more research reveals it probably stems from Isaiah 52:2 in the Old Testament of the Holy Bible. “Shake yourself from the dust, arise; Sit down, O Jerusalem! Loose yourself from the bonds of your neck, O captive daughter of Zion!” (NKJV) This scripture, in combination with the rest of Isaiah Chapter 52, references the decline of Israel during and after their captivity in Egypt. In this chapter, Isaiah is telling Israel it is time to get over what has happened to them and start anew.
Thus, it is my belief that this ‘old saying’ derives from scripture — as does, in all probability, the song. Below, I provide the words to the song, as recorded by Frank Sinatra. I also provide links to YouTube recordings by Frank Sinatra and by Nat “King” Cole. Enjoy all three, then tell me what you think. Does this ‘old saying’ originate with scripture in Isaiah Chapter 52, Verse 2 — or does the song implement the saying?
Pick Yourself Up Sang By: Frank Sinatra
Now nothing's impossible, I've found for when my chin is on the ground, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. Don't lose your confidence if you slip, be grateful for a pleasant trip, and pick yourself up, dust off, start over again. Work like a soul inspired until the battle of the day is won. You may be sick and tired, but you be a man, my son. Will you remember the famous men who have to fall to rise again? So, take a deep breath, pick yourself up, start all over again.
You gotta work like a soul inspired until the battle of the day is won. You may be sick and tired, but you be a man, my son. Will you remember the famous men who have to fall and then to rise again? So, take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
Once again now: Will you remember the famous men who have to fall and then rise again. So, take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
That's enough now.
Source: LyricFind Composed 1936 by Jerome Kern with lyrics by Dorothy Fields. Pick Yourself Up lyrics (copyright) Universal Music Publishing Group, Shapiro Bernstein & Co. Inc.
Thanksgiving comes 'round but once in a year; families gather to engage in prayer for all new blessings received with much care.
Food will be eaten, much has been spread it seems everywhere except on the bed, a colorful view -- yellow, green and red.
There is so much food, it is hard to choose -- a bit of this, a bit of that -- a ruse, fanfare tries hard to not indulge abuse.
Family time for all, with love is cast to the forefront instead of placing last -- so much sharing to recover the past.
It's hard to slip even a word edgewise, and many a word we must now excise; do not interrupt, it would not be wise.
Keep this and that under your wide-brimmed hat, because saying it might create a spat -- one surely would not want the guild of that.
Memories are made for all to recall, and pictures are posed to hang on the wall -- festivities grand are enjoyed by all.
Notes: A seven-stanza triplet is chosen for this poem. Both the English triplet and the Italian tercet consist of three-line stanzas. The Italian terset originated first and encompasses many poetic forms.
The original form consisted of three lines with ten or twelve syllables each and varied rhyme schemes. The more structured English triplet consists of three ten or twelve syllable monorhymed lines (monorhymed: rhymed with a single repetitious end sound). The poem may consist of any number of stanzas.
Other forms of the tercet include the haiku, the senryu, the Villanelle and the Terza Rima. The tercet in varied forms was favored in Romance literature of the Middle Ages.
Halloween . . .
is about the most candy ever seen.
You'll find it for months
betwixt and between.
As it hypes kids up
and makes them mean;
if any goes missing
eyes will be keen
for any sign
of the need to intervene.
It's easier from the bottle
a toddler to wean.
'Twill make a kid fat,
he'll no more be lean.
It makes me wonder,
is the ER keen
to the increased numbers
of diabetics they screen?
How many new sugar cases have been
first diagnosed . . .
It took four years to devise a plan,
ten more to set it in place.
Anti-corrosive coating coursed through the pipes
for they hoped to at least save face.
A sample testing every six months
until they reached the target space.
That small random sample, selected how?
The plan did not ever specify that.
So, do they pick the few known to be safe?
Or, do they were devil's advocate hat
and pick some of both groups of ordinance plats --
then celebrate with both keg and vat?
Why then, test only every three years,
and why does it seem they allay their fears
by doing testing themselves instead of contracting 'all clears'?
Quindecim: A Poetic Form that has developed rather naturally as I have written much regarding political and daily living events. The fifteen line stanza seems to work wonderfully by allowing twelve lines to describe the developing arena. Then the last three present some new development that throws a ‘curve ball’ into the mix. There is no specific syllabic or metric count. It is, however, rhymed with no set pattern. The patterns used should recur in a later quindecim when the poem consists of several stanzas. There is no set pattern for the recurrence.