Thanksgiving Poems & Prose Pieces

by Laura Lyndhurst

Genres: Family Life; Fall & winter reads; Anthologies

Synopsis

I'd just about finished writing and publishing October Poems at the beginning of November 2020 when my friend and mentor, Nancy Bonnington, announced that during the month of November she would be putting up prompts – word prompts, rather than pictures, this time – to inspire short pieces of writing from the members of her Facebook group. In the event, the prompts all centred around the subject of Thanksgiving in the USA, which was to happen on the 26th November. I rose to the challenge, although as I was rather tired from the effort of writing the October Poems it took me a few days to rest up and get my poetic head back on: which is why the first few pieces I wrote were in prose, rather than poetry. I have included them, however, as they form an integral part of the whole (and are referred back to in at least one of the poems which I subsequently wrote).

Release date: November 30, 2020

Publisher: Independent

Print pages: 68

Sample

 

Some stores are now open on Thanksgiving for holiday sales. Write about why you absolutely must to to a store on Thanksgiving.

 

I Must Go To The Stores On A Public Holiday

I must go to the stores because

they are open, and being open

indicates a wish for customers.

Being open on a holiday

indicates a Need for income.

I will be helping the economy.

 

But I will also go to the stores because

I am so tired of being home alone.

Of talking to no-one, except on the phone.

Even on Duo, Zoom or WhatsApp,

where I can see them while I speak to them,

I am still home alone.

 

So I must go to the stores because

there I will see other people,

from behind a mask, and not too close,

but even so, they’re much closer

than if they’re not there at all.

 

I will see families, parents, children,

grandchildren, nephews and nieces.

Or couples, married, single, gay or straight,

arms around each other, happy with each other.

Or other singletons, like myself; alone.

 

You got lost on the way to Thanksgiving dinner and had to knock on a stranger’s door.

 

Thanks for Nothing

 

I don’t do Thanksgiving, I’m English.

“But you can’t spend the day alone”,

said motherly Madeleine, my mentor,

my secondment-supervisor

at the university in New York.

“You’re only here for a year”,

she went on, “you positively have to

eat Thanksgiving dinner with us”.

 

So I took the address, made my way on the day

through the designated downtown place.

I stopped off to watch the parade from Macy’s,

enjoyed the buzz, the crowds having fun,

the families with children, watching, laughing,

then found my way to the brownstone in The Village.

A lot of fun, I thought, but not for me;

I don’t do Thanksgiving, I’m English.

 

I checked the doorplates, checked again;

the number Madeleine gave me was not there.

4A and 4B, present, but 4C? Not.

A woman came out through the door,

I asked, she answered.

Yes, this was the building.

I hesitated; maybe I misheard?

4B, or not 4B? I took a chance, I rang.

A male voice answered, I explained,

“You’d better come on in”, he said.

 

He came out as I climbed the stairs,

then stopped, and stared, enthralled,

Adonis in the flesh, tanned, muscled,

gold-blond hair, waving like ripe corn

across his head. High cheekbones,

deep blue eyes which regarded me,

I thought, much as I gazed at him.

 

Time stood still between us, as silently I spoke,

gave thanks, to God above who fixed this.

I believe! I may be English, but today

I’ve become a convert, to Thanksgiving!

He spoke then, this demi-god, my hero;

“It’s 4A you want, she’s always doing this,

our Madeleine. She used to live in 4B,

she forgets, force of habit, you know how it is”.

 

“But now I live here”, he went on,

“have done for five years now,

with Marcus, he’s my partner”.

His partner; who now appeared

behind the shoulder of his mate,

with “Everything OK here?”, and

sliding an arm around his lover’s waist.

Then with beaming smiles they waved me

on my way to Madeleine’s place.

 

I don’t do Thanksgiving. I’m English.