Thanksgiving Meditation

Because it's Thanksgiving, the entire country now moves into Christmas mode. I'm not very fond of the annual shopping frenzy, so I'll use the season to beging posting holiday poems that I've written. I'm not sure how often I'll do it, but maybe I'll get several listed before Christmas rolls around. So, please meditate on them and post your thoughts if you are so inclined.

The Suffering Servant

My limbs spread out
I writhe and strain
They rip me through
The peals of pain

Thy lamb hath come
As thou didst say
New life I bring
This tear-stained day

But wars begin
On fields of hay
Where birds take roost
And kids find play

The bulls surround
The heavens roar
The demons shout
He’s from a whore!

Forsaken now
I feel from Thee
There is no help
To set me free.

The blood now drips
Where I once knelt
My bones, they scream
My heart doth melt

I thirst, I sweat
My tongue is dry
To sup thy will
Doth satisfy

This cup I drink
Is full and strong
It is my lot
To suffer long

But this I know
The pain will cease
And all may know
The Prince of Peace

I hear His voice
With Him I cry
It is finished
No more to die

My soul rejoice
Tis worth it all
To bring him forth
To heed his call

Behold thy maid
Hath borne Him well
My son, thy son
Emmanuel

Thanksgiving Fun

I'm posting a poem for Thanksgiving a day early. This one is for fun. I hope to post a more serious note on Thanksgiving.

Turkey Surprise

The turkey’s in the oven;
It’s been there since the dawn.
It isn’t even brown yet, so
I wonder if it’s on?

The gravy’s started boiling;
Ten taters in the pot.
I guess I should’ve washed ‘em ‘cause
They taste bad if they’re not.

My corn is fully buttered.
Why is it jelling fast?
It might have been for all I know
Some grease from dinners past.

They’ll be here any minute.
I wish I hadn’t bragged
That I could cook a ten course feast.
I should be bound and gagged.

The beans are nice and brown now.
I think they started green.
But that’s okay because the bread
Is now that color’s sheen.

A hair dropped in the stuffing.
A roach fell in the stew.
But stirred and cooked it’s all the same;
It just will have to do.

A dozen places to be set,
And only five are clean.
But Rover’s tongue is better than
A Maytag dish machine.

My guests are all arriving,
Expressions kind of pained.
I made the incense strong because
The kittens aren’t quite trained.

With gusto full I served it,
My guests in such surprise,
To see a turkey still so pink
Set right before their eyes.

It’s fully cooked I promised;
It’s just that this bird’s made
With berry juices as its baste
So pink’s its normal shade.

But did they doubt my promise
Or was it other food
That made them wince and spit and gag?
How could they be so rude?

To top it off my thankless guests
Did call for expert aid,
And pizza soon arrived in force
To save this sad charade.

The holidays have passed us by.
I’m thankful cause I know
They’ll never ask for me to cook
Until all Hell is snow.