Today we give thanks
For what makes us happy:
A person, a memory, a song…
If you ain’t got nothing
For which to be thankful
Be thankful this poem ain’t long.
Tag Archives: Happiness
Castaway 2021
Dan McGill from Denver
Got on a plane. In the sky he
Heard the engine failing
Before they landed in Hawaii.
Alas, they never landed,
Unless you count a watery tomb,
And only Dan survived the plunge
And swam away from doom.
He found himself an island
With a single tree for shade
And he dug into the sandy beach
Until a cave was made.
He lived inside the cavern
Eating fish and coconuts,
Making no excuses,
Eschewing all ifs, ands, and buts.
He was stranded many months,
Perhaps a year or more,
Until one night a ship passed by
The little sandy shore.
The castaway called “Ho there,”
And the captain turned to lee
And knowing he was rescued
Dan Mcgill exclaimed “Yippee!”
Then the crewmen came ashore,
Handed him a water bottle,
And said “You can’t say ‘Ho there.’
“The term is ‘Yonder social media model.’”
Then they asked “Where is your mask
“And proof of vaccination?”
And Dan replied “Oh, sorry guys,
“I’m really on vacation!”
So sailed away Dan’s only hope
Of rescue from the isle,
And for miles the sky was lit
Up bright by Danny’s smile.
“God,” he said, with praying hands,
“You saved me from the plane,
“And now your mercy saved me
“From an even greater pain!”
Filed under Poems
Do Unto Others
There are two invisible powers
And both go by the name of “Love.”
Both share earthly symbols
Like a flower or a dove,
Both can feel spectacular
And to lose them feels rotten,
But only one is cherished
While the other is forgotten.
The first love, which we celebrate
Comes in many ways and rates,
Whether flourishing in one glance
Or through countless many dates.
It’s an all-consuming passion
That no drug can replicate,
Designed by God or nature
To ensure two people mate.
I prefer the second love,
Which many haven’t known,
Which can’t be felt by starry eyes
Or fire in the bone.
This love is not a feeling
But an action that we take
Not to gratify ourselves
But for another’s sake.
This second love is not reserved
For those with lovely faces.
Instead it’s most important for
Those found in darkened places,
And yet with equal vigor
To your wife and to your foe
You manifest the second love
And to both parties show.
You needn’t feel amorous
To help a stranger carry
A heavy bag, nor should you feel
Obliged to them to marry.
And yet the baffling part about
This second love these days
In when you show a person this
They’ll spurn it seven ways;
“Shee’s clingy,” or “He’s needy,”
Or “He’s trying way too hard,”
Or “He’s creepy,” or “She’s lying,
“So I must be on my guard.”
In most cases the rebuke
Is one of self-defense,
For many who show kindness
Are expecting recompense.
So when one shares the second love
For nothing but the good
It seems what was well-meaning
Is oft misunderstood.
I hope if you’re a giver
Of this secret second love,
The love for human brothers
Unconnected by their blood,
That you do not forget the gift
Or cease to feel or give,
For you’re an ever-scarcer breed
Who knows how best to live.
And if you may receive the gift
I formerly did mention
That you may understand it
As a love with good intention.
And if you’ve never thought of love
As something more than lust
I hope you read these verses
With an open mind, and trust
That if you try to love someone
For their sake, not your own,
That you will feel a universe
In which you’re less alone.
Filed under Poems
Being An “Us” With No “Them”
When was the last time a stranger
Whispered something in your ear,
Whether something that was naughty
Or perhaps a secret fear,
Saying something so important
That they risked becoming near
To share with you a datum
Only you were fit to hear?
If you’ve never given quiet
I think you ought to try it.
Filed under Poems
Just About Life
Just about everyone has asked “What’s the meaning of life.”
Just about everyone has learned the answer.
What got lost was that they weren’t asking the right question
And the right question is:
“Have I ever been unhappy?”
If you say “no,” then you apparently know the meaning of life already
But just about everyone says “Yes, I’ve been unhappy.”
And the right question continues:
“Have I ever been happy?”
And if you say “no” then you need to keep reading
But just about everyone says “Yes, I’ve been happy.”
And the right question continues:
“So what happened that made you change
“From being unhappy to being happy?”
There are many answers to this question
And just about all the answers are correct:
When you were born and became distinct from mother, you were unhappy
And when mother held you you were happy
And so the meaning of life is to be held and loved.
When you were scared and confused and lost, you were unhappy
And when you got comfort, knowledge, direction you were happy
And these too are the meaning of life.
When you were sad, you laughed.
When you were alone, you fell in love.
When you were hungry you ate.
When you were tired you slept.
When you couldn’t go on, you kept going.
Every single time you’ve been unhappy you did something joyful.
Every time you were hopeless you hoped one more time
And when you couldn’t, the universe gave you hope from outside yourself.
The meaning of life is about becoming happy
And if you’re happy you can’t become happy.
Life is the opposite of unhappiness
And so happiness is life.
If you are unhappy, you are alive,
If you are happy, you are living,
And when you make your final choice in this life, choose to be happy again
Because just about everyone can.
Filed under Poems
How Much Would You Cry If You Had 17 Eyes?
There are ten-quintillion insects
In the world, we estimate
Who deal daily with the fact
They’re objects of our hate.
They’ve never read a poem
And they’ve never seen a play
And we just go and murder them
As they go about their day.
Lots of people say things:
“Love your neighbor,” “Peace not war,”
But they don’t even bat an eye
When vacuuming their floor.
I think when we begin to care
For the welfare of bugs
Humanity will finally see
The real value of hugs.
Filed under Poems
Everyman
Somewhere near you is a man
Who has a loaded gun
And a heart full of unspoken pain.
He cannot see the sun,
Nor can he hear the laughter
Of the squirrels and birds and trees.
He walks upright, but out of sight
He’s fallen to his knees.
Somewhere there’s another man –
It might even be you –
Who gives the first a little nod
That says “I feel it too.”
And sometimes just a nod like that
Is all you need to say
To help a wounded warrior
Put the loaded gun away.
You don’t need superpowers
Or a cape to save the day.
Smiling is enough sometimes
To make the world okay.
Filed under Poems
Flowers for Algernon
Someday in the future
Somebody will share
A painting so perfect
Nothing else can compare,
And most everybody
Will say “Ooh” and “Ahh”
Except for the few
Who insist there’s a flaw.
All other artwork
Before it and after
Won’t evoke the same awe
Or inspire such laughter,
Won’t bring to the eyes
The same sweetness of tears
And from then to the end
There will be the dark years
Where no art seems special
Like the ultimate piece,
So exhibits will dry up
And artists will cease.
New adventures will stagnate
When our needs are all met
So let’s just be happy
That we’re not perfect yet.
Filed under Poems
Ordinary Life
The hours we spent painting gnome houses
And the hours we spent playing games
And the meals and walking
And laughing and talking
And whispering each others’ names,
The hour we spent after bedtime
Just wrapped in each other, in love,
And the sweet half an hour
That I was your tower
And your lips glowed from starlight above,
A greeting, a morning, a breakfast, adventure,
The downtime, the party, the kiss:
I cannot be lonely when you are my only;
No time was spent better than this.
Filed under Poems
Brown, Sticky, and Fun
I remember a game
I played when I was childish
Where up I’d pick a fancy stick
And proceed to go quite wildish.
It would be, at the same time,
A lightsaber, a gun,
A steering wheel, banana peel,
A ticket: Admit One.
I could walk around the woods
With some tree’s lifeless limb
And make of a day of naught but play,
Walking and swinging him.
Now I’m big and childish
But have less inclination
To go outside and take a ride
On my imagination.
Today I pray to everything
That before I’m old and sick
I’ll meet just five folks more alive
Than my beloved stick.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 