Between Axe and Thanks

 

 

 

Between the fence,

I look to them,

As they move about.

Unwired of everything around them . . .

Yet,

The time is ticking for them,

Their coming to their shining moment . . .

But oh so on that.

Larger than chickens,

Smaller than a seven year old,

Uncanny of emotions that just can’t,

Be held down,

I look down in hands,

Weighing the object,

Noticing small things that should fixed up,

But for that is long ways away.

Eyeing back at them,

The lack holding them in,

And the object at hand with an uncertain looks.

To a simple point,

Unsure of how to feel of all this . . .

Alas in chances of words,

They are easy to express,

Not in speaking or showing,

But in writing is easy to tell.

Again,

Unsure of how response to all this,

But it is my turn to do this,

Eyeing the cage creatures within,

Unknowing what could come for one of them,

In their homeland,

And those to spread later on further on,

To this later on days!

To shine doesn’t come close in telling in hope of this.

It is how it is,

I speak of one thing,

That in distance,

Reaches on another subject far back in history,

Those of history,

Understand what it means,

Of what is a start to an end of others see it.

The weight of the object never changes,

Nor mindset,

Uncertain looks still in place,

As the axe is placed by the fence,

Heading back in to mark down the days,

Before the ending reaches,

Giving in thanks,

Of thanks of giving,

One life for another . . .

Nothing has change,

Only,

The form of whom of holding the axe,

The form of reason for this,

And beyond others as it is.


-Side Notes-

Doing another Thanksgiving Poem; subject is what are you least thankful for and is there a way of how to handle it your way. The numbers for responses are 28. PM me for the due date is on Thanksgiving Day.

Want to do another Paint a Picture Special; who is the artist you like to see? PM me or comment below

And lastly, know any Thanksgiving themes that can become poem form. PM me or comment below

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