yellow dots
delivery truck
whispering pines
corner
"I remember......"
traditional/modern



Members of the message board used the list above to write on the theme of Thanksgiving.














A Happy Thanksgiving

By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)


Too much eggnog he did drink
Tossed his cookies in the sink
Yellow dots before his eyes
Told his wife a bunch of lies
He slept on couch of booze he did stink


*


Oh boy the delivery truck was here
A present perhaps from someone dear
I opened the box
Only a few pair of socks
Gifts that cometh are boring I fear


*


Out to the forest of whispering pine
Growing in such a marvelous line
Got out my axe
Gave a few whacks
This Christmas Tree is mine all mine


*


I remember Thanksgiving meal
The crisp air of winter starting to feel
We all gathered to chat
In parents cabin we were at
Outside children played with great zeal











A Happy Thanksgiving

By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)


The whispering pines of the South told no lies but little half truths.
Marietta was enjoying the Holidays as she had a peppermint shake in one of Steak n' Shake's booths.


The delivery truck was outside delivering more Holiday goodies for making waistlines less than small.
Marietta was thinking of her boyfriend, Paul.


He was in Viet Nam, what a bad break for the two of them.
She sent him a pair of boxer shorts with yellow dots for Christmas on a whim.


Down on the corner she met her best friend, Julianne, at the bus stop.
Julianne was dating Paul's best friend, a Cop.


As the girls boarded the bus, Marietta said, "I remember when we were happy at the Holidays and planning for wonderful things.
Now, only sorrow this War brings."











A Happy Thanksgiving

By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)


"I remember the Thanksgiving dinners of my childhood."
The turkey was always home-grown, and pumpkin pies were made from scratch.
I had the chore of whipping the cream that went on the pies.
I also churned the butter that went on Momma's homemade rolls.


Momma served the traditional fixings: sweet potatoes, green beans, cornbread dressing.
The table centerpiece was a circle of bittersweet, gourds, and candles.
Momma would set two tables: one for the adults and one for the children.
Brother and I made the place-cards.


Today, each of those Thanksgiving Dinners has a special memory,
Like the time Grandpa dropped the gravy boat in Grandma's lap, ruining her silk dress with the yellow dots.
Or the time Uncle Jack tripped over a rock on his way to the privy and broke his arm.
Poppa had his tonsils out one year and ate just mashed potatoes.


Today, I sit alone at my window and re-live those precious Thanksgiving memories.
Thank goodness my parents, grandparents, and cousins weren't too busy for family get- togethers.
Most of the family gatherings took place in our home,
situated two miles from Clark's Corner, on Greenbottom Road.


My parents owned Whispering Pines Dairy and thirty-five Holsteins.
They raised chickens, goats, two horses and four pigs.
No one ever came to our house who didn't go home
with a basketful of home-grown vegetables, fresh eggs, and a pound of fresh butter.


A delivery truck came every morning and picked up cans of fresh milk.
Momma sold fresh butter and eggs to the local grocery,
She canned and preserved vegetables and fruits.
My parents worked hard and they carried thanksgiving in their heart.










A Happy Thanksgiving

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)


I remember when we were young,
And sponged at our parents’ tables,
Our budget small, our desires tall,
Like a Norman Rockwell family fable.


Now the whispering pines of cooling fall
Speak to all of those newlywed days,
Tho left as the rusting hub of our home,
I can see us then in our children’s gaze.


A delivery truck from UPS brings
A big box of turkey and tradition things,
And the kitchen smells are just the same
As they were when I loved my new name.


Esther, your mom, wore dots of yellow
On her apron as she buzzed around,
Mine, more lacey (for we ate at two places)
Competed for best dishes we found.


In the ghost corners of my memories
Of wedding, of children, of gray hairs, of love,
I am tenderly wrapped while I prepare for ours,
And hear the flapping of wings of a dove










A Happy Thanksgiving

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)


As a child I had a dress
Covered with yellow dots.
One Thanksgiving I had some stress
I came down with chicken pox.


Waiting all day for a delivery truck
Hoping it would come soon.
I was getting a Donald Duck
But they sent me Rocky Racoon!


I sat beneath the whispering pines.
A bit of poetry I would write.
I struggled with the difficult lines
But my pen gave up the fight


Around the corner I saw my cat
Yodeling for romance.
He didn't realize that..
We'd taken away his chance.


I remember the smell of pies,
That grandma baked before my eyes.
A magician surely, that was she.
I hope no one expects that of me!












Turkey Day

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)


All the hype, all the glitter the old traditional versus the modern,
spoiled what I remembered, about Thanksgiving.
Twas a time to be thankful for what we had,
to gather and enjoy the bountiful harvest,
not the “now” of prelude for Black Friday.


Wife began to truck it in, lots of this and that,
making it into something I do not and did not like,
because, oh yes, “I remembered!”
it just got to me, all the hype and all the spending.


The deliver truck was in the lane, I shook my head,
I got Old dog and my sleeping bag,
thought I would just get out of Dodge,
go up and around the corner,
spend the time wandering and thinking.


Drove up to the north forty, to the whispering pines,
a place we enjoyed, place where we went to think.
Small cabin-lean to up there, sort of a dug out.
Listen to the whispering of the wind through the pines,
where I could think and be alone.


Sat on a stump, drinking coffee, started looking about.
Laughed for all I saw were yellow dots on the trees.
Yellow dots of rosin on the pine trees,
remembeingr how I used to collect them;
squirrels a chattering as they opened pine cones, eating.


Thursday morning afore noon, heard something a coming,
snow was coming down, it was going to be a pretty one.
Here came the wife, in old clothes with her sleeping bag.
Said nothing as we hugged, built a fire and had
a mug of strong coffee.


We were close as we walked in the snow,
talked and just reminisced.
Seemed it all had gotten to her,
she left after she put it on the table,
deciding to come enjoy it with me.
Am I glad she really did.















Golden Memories

Limericks on A Theme

Limited Warranty

Chance Encounter

November in the Big City



Lara's Den has free E-cards.
I make them and offer them to our visitors and authors.
Click the button to access the index.


New! The New Marilyn's Place is open for visitors. Click the Thumbnail.





And.......for many others, click the index image.



Graphics by Marilyn
http://graphicsbymarilyn.com

graphicsbymarilyn@yahoo.com