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Grammy's tablecloth
Mother's china
Dad's carving knife
still with us
every Thanksgiving
This poem first appeared in Songs of Eretz (November 24, 2017).
Used here with permission.
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Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, family, nature, science, and membership in the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA). Nominated for various awards, her work has appeared internationally in speculative and mainstream publications for adults and young adults. She is the author of a poetry collection for teens, Aliens, Magic, and Monsters (Hiraeth, 2023). Lauren lives in Texas and enjoys swimming, gardening, baking, reading, writing, and knitting scarves for U.S. troops.
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jamvan:
thumbs up :)
Posted 11/25/2021 12:04 AM
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KinVT:
Your poem illustrates perfectly the, sometimes difficult to explain, distinction between poetry and prose : the depth of human emotion expressed, and elicited, in sparsely described but perfectly chosen - words/images. Thank you & have a wonderful Thanksgiving
Posted 11/24/2021 10:28 AM
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Larry Schug:
I have a beautiful crockery mixing bowl of my mother's. It is a holy experience when my hands occupy the same space that hers did. This short poem lifts me up and carries me away.
Posted 11/24/2021 08:13 AM
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MLove:
Me-Maw's green salad. Not sure any of us really like it, but it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it!
Posted 11/24/2021 08:13 AM
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KevinArnold:
Oh, as a lover of brevity Im smitten.
Posted 11/24/2021 07:40 AM
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albin:
Thanks for this gentle reminder to value life. We (I) so often forget this fact. Reminded me of this line from Moby: "Hold onto people, they are slipping away". But here you point to a way of healthy acceptance.
Bravo !
Albin (Pariiii)
Posted 11/24/2021 07:35 AM
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