//
you're reading...
Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Gratitude

This week let’s write a gratitude poem. This should be pretty straightforward and timely. Post a thankful poem in the comments below.

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

Discussion

18 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Gratitude

  1. A job that does not eat my brain
    A team that follows me into the unknowable
    Adult children that still give spontaneous embraces
    A life partner who is my rock

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by Second Act Blogger | November 27, 2021, 3:10 PM
  2. For Sky

    Thank you, sky, for maple and ash
    that filter your gaze,
    for your wide blue face that
    blesses violets,
    Siberian wallflowers—those little
    golden suns—and deep purple iris.
    Thank you for your shimmering veil
    that keeps the fire from searing
    the green earth, and for birthing
    red-shouldered hawks that dip
    and swoop, connecting me to you.
    Thank you for your faithfulness
    through storms, mist, snow,
    for announcing each new day.
    Thank you for seeing me
    and letting me see you.

    Caroline Cottom

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by redfoxpoet | November 22, 2021, 3:50 PM
  3. Gratitude Poem

    The Brim of Dying

    Youth is soft prelude,
    the drums and rush of sound come later
    and screech ear-splitting noise
    before the last of it.

    We sang as we drove the car
    the humming road an accompaniment,
    the trees rushed by
    and wildflowers lit the day.

    We were full to the brim
    and yet our hearts bore warning
    in this young valley distant slopes
    loomed.

    We did not have high
    altitude breathing
    You risked as much
    as space gave room,

    And shone with an aura
    that made me afraid,
    I must have known
    you would not last.

    When they laid you in the grave
    all truth of the world altered,
    hard courage,
    all that was left, a gift.

    I took it up
    a tool to to live by,
    residue
    of ruptured love.

    You must be existing somewhere,
    No one could lose forever such as you,
    not God, who placed you
    so close to his heart.

    Wherever your existence,
    from this constraint that is left,
    I carve out honeyed days, peace,
    and know that I am blest.

    Whatever cares
    for me,
    cares for you best,
    for all that loveliness.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by ts19page | November 22, 2021, 10:23 AM

Let us know what you think

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow Living Poetry's blog and receive new posts by email.

Join 467 other followers

View Our Latest Poetry Posts

%d bloggers like this: