Expressing Gratitude With Praise Poems
Last month I talked about gratitude, and so I continue along that vein. Because… well, because don’t we all need it?
I’m not the first to point out how noticing the small things in our lives gives us the opportunity to be thankful when we’re otherwise being hammered by events we’re not thankful for. During the last two years, many poets have turned to writing about their appreciation for nature, which seems to go on no matter what else happens in the world. For example, Jane Hirshfield wrote Today, I Could Do Nothing about saving an ant during quarantine. It ends like this:
This first day when I could do nothing,
contribute nothing
beyond staying distant from my own kind,
I did this.
(Read the the rest of Today I Could Do Nothing.)
In the following poem, James Crews has chosen to not just notice, but to savor some of the everyday-ness of life. In very precise language, he gives us enough detail to show us he has really looked. Taking even a moment to look closely is a way of honoring a thing or as he says “pausing to admire” it. And oh, the things we can choose to admire!
Savor
Every morning I awaken torn between a desire to save the world
and an inclination to savor it.
—E. B. White
This morning I choose to savor
the spill of yellow lamplight
where lady beetles gather to warm
the armor of their spotted shells,
and blue jays already screeching
at the empty feeders in the yard,
surely a form of speech calling me
to see their need and bring out a few
scoops of sunflower seeds for them.
I savor the way a line of snow
balances on a bare oak branch,
not a flake out of place, and how
creosote dims the woodstove window
until a log inside, hollowed by fire,
resembles a tiny cabin with several
lit windows of its own. How can we
save the world if we’ve forgotten
the simple act of pausing to admire
the slim disc of a winter sun rising
as fog sifts across the mountains,
this ghostly breath the old-timers
still call holy smoke, stopping to point
whenever they see it.
(first appeared in Literary North)
I’d call “Savor” a praise poem, which is described by Poets.org as “a poem of tribute or gratitude.” Traditionally, it was often in praise of a king or deity, but “Praise poems can also widely refer to any poem that expresses gratitude.” A poem such as James’s helps us appreciate the things he appreciated and, in that, to feel the peace he felt. The image of the tiny cabin with lit windows especially touches me.
You can find more uplifting poems in three anthologies edited by James: How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude & Hope, Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness & Connection, and The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection & Joy.
Here’s a poem where I’ve taken a different approach. I have a penchant for using some humor in a poem otherwise actually about a serious thing: In this case happiness. Hmm, does that sound odd? No, happiness IS something to take seriously!
I’m always one to praise a bargain, so I got inspired to write this when I lucked out on two unexpected bargains in a row. Besides being a sort of praise poem, this is also a list poem.
What It Takes to Make Me Happy
Free toilet paper—12-pack, double rolls (worth 24)
because the sale price didn’t ring up.
Next day, 10 free chocolate-covered strawberries—
half dark, half milk: Hansel & Gretel Sweet Haus,
closing time, the owner packing a gift box for me,
I’ll have to make fresh tomorrow anyway.
Drafting a poem, even one crowded with bad memory:
The boy clutching me at a dance, 1967,
his Old Spice (like Grandpa’s) singeing my nose,
nervous breath on my neck, and how hearing Cherish
still evokes a cringe, though I sing along.
Today, Levi Stubbs full-throttle Bernadette on the car radio
and learning three different Bernadettes inspired it.
My very old dog living another day, limping to me with a toy,
tail swishing so fast it’s a blur on the photo I take.
Diamonds sprayed from the boat’s wake, July, hydrangea sky
same color as the cabin’s bedroom walls,
which also make me happy—
waking to them
and the white ceiling with heart pine beams.
—Karen Paul Holmes
(first appeared in The American Journal of Poetry)
Your Turn: Praise Poems
Have you read a praise poem lately? Please share it by pasting it or linking to it in a comment below. Or, try writing one of your own, pausing to admire something small and so very important.
(Note, if you plan on submitting your unpublished poem to a journal, please be advised it will be considered previously published if you post it here. Publications like Every Day Poems, however, gladly welcome previously published work! A good poem is a good poem, after all. Worthy of being experienced again.)
Photo by Tanja-Milfoil, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Karen Paul Holmes, 2022 Tweetspeak Poet Laura and author of No Such Thing as Distance. Poem by James Crews used with permission.
In her former life, Karen was VP-Communications at a global financial services corporation, and she now works as a freelance business writer and consultant. Her ghost-written articles have appeared in many industry publications under executive bylines.
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L.L. Barkat says
Karen, that is SO fun to get those freebies! (And that they made it into a praise poem 🙂 .)
Plus, I love that “white ceiling with heart pine beams.”
It’s a very grey day here. Lots of rain. And ice coming. I have to consider what to praise. (Maybe my jasmine tea. All lovely in the cobalt tea pot!)
Karen Paul Holmes says
Laura, thank you, and stay away from that ice! It’s gray here too but above freezing. Enjoy that tea in the cobalt pot, and I want to see the poem you write!
lynn__ says
Ooooh….FREE chocolate covered strawberries?!!! That is cause for praise 🙂 And I really like your “hydrangea sky same color as the cabin’s bedroom walls”…lovely, Karen.
Karen Paul Holmes says
Right? The free strawberries are enough to inspire any poem! Thank you for reading and posting such a nice compliment, Lynn.
lynn__ says
Yes, your strawberries inspired my thoughts of raspberry enjoyed with friends just yesterday. So here’s a quick prose poem:
any reason (praise!)
unexpected text
for last minute plans
an early birthday surprise
with (old!) college roommates
meet at local bakery
we choose a cozy table
for friendliest conversation
(loud!) laughter and warm drinks
try yesterday’s special
raspberry chai latte, please
she adds dutch windmill cookie
and i treat (inheritance!) with cash
plans to meet again might involve (high!) tea
Karen Paul Holmes says
Fun poem, Lynn. Love your unusual use of parentheses.
Catherine Carter says
Thank you, Karen! That’s a lovely praise!
Here’s one that appeared this past year in North American Review, a praise of the strange fact that butterflies are drawn to urine for the minerals it contains.
BUTTERFLIES, URINE
It did not occur to him that [the fates] might be engaged in casting dice against gravity; that mice and men, soil and songs, might be merely ways to retard the march of atoms to the sea.
–Aldo Leopold, “Odyssey”, A Sand County Almanac
Over knobby shallows, through long femoral marrows
the narrow red rivers run, sluicing to the kidneys’
thinner creeks the foundations of life in this world,
calcium and magnesium dissolved from bonemelt
as human height slides away, sucked back by blood
heeding earthpull. Nitrogen to feed soil. Sodium salts,
loved and craved. All life the scramble
for minerals, and none of them yours for long,
as you remember when you crouch, under April
sun striking mica-shine from bare limbs, to return
borrowed water to the papery leaf-floor, and the air
around you ignites into breathing and beating
wings. Periwinkle flecks and flakes unfurling
long spiral tongues to your sparkling stream, tiger
swallowtails quivering striped vanes over muddy
patches of piss, pollen-edged mourning cloaks
mourning nothing so hard that they can’t slip
in for a sip of you—vivid ephemerals
oblivious to whatever you need
them to represent, drawn in frantic flitter
to the patter of water for what they need,
invisible particles of bone, of salt,
to slake their thirst, so like your own.
Karen Paul Holmes says
Oh Catherine, I do love your always interesting and wonderful poems. Thank you for popping in to read and share. And huge congrats on the publication in North American Review. And I love the “strange fact” that prompted you to write this poem!
Bill Ramsey says
It has always seemed to me that there is a thin line between a poem and concise prose. Perhaps because I am a retired engineer, writing poetry has always been just beyond my reach.
I share your sense that praise and gratitude are critical components in living life.
From my blog post over this weekend, I offer this.
I Remember You
You are a person who made a lasting difference in my life. You have taught me many things. Your values and believes have influenced mine. A little of me started as a gift from you.
Most of you have influenced me with your positive, life-affirming actions. A few of you have shown me what NOT to do with my life. Both have helped me to shape my life and for that, I thank you.
You came into my life at various points along the way; early childhood, teenager, young husband/father, working professional, writer, retiree. You may have been my schoolteacher, pastor, family elder, neighbor, community volunteer or just a chance, onetime encounter. I learned how to watch and listen for your moments of life instruction.
You are one of at least two hundred people on my list from my childhood until the present. Your face projects onto my memories about you. Your voice and actions are clear to me. Every day of my life several you and several others on my list come alive in my mind. You may already know how you have impacted my life. If I haven’t told you, trust me, it really did happen. There is no way to adequately thank you.
This message won’t reach all those that I want to thank. I lost track of many of them, and others have left this life. I wish I had thanked them much sooner.
Suggestion: Consider jotting down the names at least fifty people and what they have contributed to your life. Thank those you may still have time to thank.
There is no such thing as a “self-made man.” We have all been offered help along on life’s highway. Those who have responded to that help have lived far less troubled lives.
Karen Paul Holmes says
Bill, thank you for sharing that fabulous piece of prose that rings so true! “A little of me started as a gift from you.” And yes, even those who taught us the hard lessons deserve our gratitude.
“Every day of my life several you and several others on my list come alive in my mind.” Yes!
Here’s the link to Bill’s blog for those interested in following this intelligent, thoughtful man: https://authorbillramsey.com/
Brenda Kay Ledford says
Karen,
This is an awesome blog. I will visit often for inspiration.
Karen Paul Holmes says
Brenda, so good to hear from you, and I look forward to your visits here!
Maren O. Mitchell says
Karen, what a delight to have you as Poet Laura! You will be lighting up many lives. I’ll add my poem of “In Praise of the Potato,” published in The Strategic Poet of Terrapin Books. Yes, more praise!!
In Praise of the Potato
Unbiased diplomats
the real staff of life
earth almonds,
you give off ephemeral perfumes
in five thousand languages
from A to V:
Almond
Chelina
Fianna
Nicola
Vivaldi.
Gigantic pearls of the soil
thin-skinned, but not overly sensitive,
willingly pried out
by the lucky and unlucky alike
your wealth lulls the world
in the universal language
of food,
assimilates differences
of race, geography
stylishly co-mingles with all customs,
mountain to flat land,
playful gnocchi to spicy masala dosa.
Chameleon comfort
chewable wine
masquerading as legitimate vegetables:
Oven fry wedges resisting
teeth with zesty new skins;
chips that turn a solitary meal
into a party of one;
on-the-run French fries
naughty, self-fulfilling;
celebration-of-summer potato salad
accompanied by cicadas;
pan fries, sedated by caramelized onion;
essential ingredient of immortal stews
that put spring on the back burner,
make winter worthwhile.
I would not want a life
without you.
Karen Paul Holmes says
Hi Maren, happy to see you shared your fun poem. “masquerading as legitimate vegetables” — so true! The Strategic Poet is such a good source of craft tips and prompts, and I’m grateful to have one of my poems in it too.
Brenda Kay Ledford says
Praise to the Apple Tree
You are more
than just an old tree
bowing your silver head
to the frozen ground.
Your body is covered
with lichen and brittle bark,
you have given forty years
of unconditional love.
As a crooked sapling,
I saved your life
from the jaws
of a woodcutter.
Each spring you offer
a fragrant bouquet
and shelter the bluebirds
in your arms.
Each fall red-delicious apples
plop to feed hungry mouths:
a feast for white-tailed deer,
children savoring apple dumplings.
I lift praise to you,
my faithful friend,
and celebrate the joy
you bring to each season.
–Brenda Kay Ledford
Karen Paul Holmes says
HI Brenda, I love your relationship with this tree. and I’m happy to know this:
As a crooked sapling,
I saved your life
from the jaws
of a woodcutter.
Thank you for sharing!
Megan Willome says
Thanks, Karen! I’ve been thinking about Jane Hirshfield’s poem and after this morning’s walk, wrote this.
heavens
cold sunrise, a string of beautyberries,
the sky on purple tangent
interrupts its licorice black
I walk early though I have nowhere to be
my leaves claimed by deer who leave
my fruit for the birds whose song
reaches into morning’s expanse, fades into light,
as I walk toward the portal
open, this frozen morning, to even me
Karen Paul Holmes says
Megan, oh that’s a nice poem! I’m glad you had a beautiful walk to inspire it. Thank you for sharing!