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Poetry Prompt: Gratitude Poems

By Callie Feyen 33 Comments

Gratitude Poems Start With Morning

So much to be grateful for on a Tuesday morning —

At 5am, coffee and words from Brandi Carlile;

the hope that her words will help me with mine.

At 6, thick slices of homemade bread

slathered with butter and cherry jam;

an orange’s sweet citrus and the spray

from the peel like sunbeams.

A little after 7, a walk to the bus stop

and chatter about Latin, and band,

and that the frost on the leaves looks like sugar.

Before 8, I will arrive home

and the light will shine so that inside I will know clearly

all there is

to do

and

all there is

I’m not doing.

Out here on my driveway

we are the only house on the street

that hasn’t raked the leaves.

I am grateful

that I have never felt the tug

to clean up all this yellow.

Try It: Gratitude Poems

For Thanksgiving, let’s write gratitude poems. Try to write one that starts with morning.

Photo by M’s Photography Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.

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The Teacher Diaires Front Cover with Lauren WinnerI have been a fan of Callie Feyen’s writing for quite some time but I finished this book in almost one sitting. If you have ever been in 8th grade, fallen in love, had a best friend, or loved reading, you will love this book. As the mother of an 8th grader, my other genuine hope is that my son will one day have a teacher as gifted as Callie.

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  • Author
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Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.
Callie Feyen
Latest posts by Callie Feyen (see all)
  • Poetry Prompt: Courage to Follow - July 24, 2023
  • Poetry Prompt: Being a Pilgrim and a Martha Stewart Homemaker - July 10, 2023
  • Poetry Prompt: Monarch Butterfly’s Wildflower - June 19, 2023

Filed Under: Blog, Gratitude, poetry prompt, Thanksgiving Poems

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About Callie Feyen

Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.

Comments

  1. L.L. Barkat says

    November 22, 2021 at 10:14 am

    Morning—
    the red maple
    after rain.

    And me
    wishing I could gather
    all this treasure,

    keep it
    forever.

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 22, 2021 at 2:53 pm

      The red maple in this poem makes me think of the red maple in Walk Two Moons. Have you read that one?

      And, maybe you can keep all this treasure forever?

      Reply
      • L.L. Barkat says

        November 22, 2021 at 3:18 pm

        I LOVED Walk Two Moons. 🙂

        Reply
        • Callie Feyen says

          November 23, 2021 at 1:33 pm

          It is THEE best.

          Reply
    • namada says

      November 23, 2021 at 10:53 am

      morning-
      a good beginning.

      Reply
  2. Megan Willome says

    November 22, 2021 at 12:16 pm

    turquoise bench, coffee, moon tan

    walk in the dark, cold water–tall, story in my ear

    oatmeal, last light before dawn, brew tea

    take Night inside

    word Lightning awakes

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 22, 2021 at 2:54 pm

      “take Night inside” sounds like a call to me. I like it.

      Reply
  3. Rick Maxson says

    November 22, 2021 at 1:32 pm

    Morning on the porch swing I see a pond
    and a deep timberland of lodge-pole pine
    in their thirtieth year since planting.

    They are majestic and linear as Iowa corn.
    To walk the length of a row
    is like going down the center isle of a cathedral.

    The fragrance—intoxicating. My footfall
    silent on the decades of fallen needles
    that lay like copper snow and render a depth
    to the woods that makes them sacred.

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 22, 2021 at 2:56 pm

      “copper snow” – I like that a lot. I also like the way you paved the way (pardon the pun) for the word “sacred” at the end.

      Reply
    • namada says

      November 23, 2021 at 11:04 am

      there is gratitude in this vision. and the words had me walking in the stillness of the trees.

      Reply
  4. namada says

    November 22, 2021 at 1:58 pm

    Gratitude is knocking at the door
    and the cat is wanting out.
    There is no sleeping-in.

    I open the door to the whirlwind.

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 22, 2021 at 2:59 pm

      This poem makes me think of the urgency of gratitude, or maybe the obligation to be grateful, especially during this week. It also makes me think of how overwhelming it is to acknowledge how much there is to be grateful for. No time to sleep in, indeed.

      Reply
      • namada says

        November 22, 2021 at 3:03 pm

        I like your thoughts. Thank you.

        Reply
  5. Katie Brewster says

    November 22, 2021 at 9:12 pm

    Monday morning of Thanksgiving week
    my son texts that he will drive up on Tuesday.
    We will go with he and his sister
    to their brother and sister-in-law’s house
    for the feast on Thursday.
    Can’t wait to see the grands
    enjoy their uncle who they haven’t seen in two years.
    And to see three-year-old Gideon dance to the Gobble, Gobble song again:)

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 23, 2021 at 1:35 pm

      What a sweet image of three-year old Gideon dancing to the “Gobble, Gobble” song!

      Reply
      • Katie Brewster says

        November 23, 2021 at 4:20 pm

        Made a video on my phone of him dancing to Gobble, Gobble and have just about had it on repeat;) I show it to everyone:)

        Reply
  6. Maggie Campbell says

    November 23, 2021 at 2:02 am

    Morning dawns with the gift of a new beginning

    Wipe the dreams from your sleepy eyes

    Breathe in the breeze that gently crosses the room

    Stretch like the tabby resting on your sheets

    And welcome rays of dustlight dancing in the air

    Embrace the silence of the moment before chaos reigns

    Savour the seventh day that encourages rest

    Roll over, pull up the covers and, with gratitude, sleep soundly until the next new beginning

    Reply
    • namada says

      November 23, 2021 at 11:07 am

      i still carry the feeling of the resting that came with sunday. it is part of me.

      Reply
    • Callie feyen says

      November 23, 2021 at 1:36 pm

      “dustlight dancing” sounds like music. I like that.

      Reply
      • Maggie Campbell says

        November 24, 2021 at 8:05 am

        Thank you

        Reply
  7. Stacy Bronec says

    November 23, 2021 at 7:54 am

    The sky is black, with no sign of the sun on the horizon.
    The wind is calm.
    Coffee, hot.
    My words feel stuck as my pencil hovers over the page.
    But then, the furnace kicks on,
    reminding me of the blessing of a warm home.
    My toes wiggle
    inside well-worn slippers.
    My glasses slide down the bridge of my nose, the only way I can see.
    My planner to my left is full of holiday to-dos.
    Make pies.
    Clean guest room.
    Wash sheets.
    No school.
    Soon, the sun will rise, a promise of a new day.
    The house will be filled with grumbles from the kids,
    “Why do we have to get up so early?”
    And clanging of spoons in bowls.
    Some days, I feel annoyed at their loudness, the way they wake.
    But then, the small note on my planner:
    Send tree.
    Send tree to a friend whose son didn’t wake last week.
    A tree to plant in the dark, cool earth. The ground to be split open, like my friend’s heart.
    A tree to grow tall and wide, to remind him of his son.
    As if he could ever forget.
    I pull back the curtain,
    looking for any light on the edge of the horizon.
    For some, the sun won’t rise.
    A door creaks open,
    the spell of a quiet house, broken.
    The sun has risen at my home.
    I release the breath
    I didn’t know I was holding.

    Reply
    • namada says

      November 23, 2021 at 11:18 am

      awaking gratitude as thought comes to light.

      Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 23, 2021 at 1:41 pm

      I have the shivers from the line, “send tree,” Stacy. Great build up, to this. You have us settling into the atmosphere that we know and are kind of tired of, and then you take us deeper into the pain real breaking. Powerful.

      Reply
      • Stacy says

        November 23, 2021 at 6:04 pm

        Thanks, Callie.

        I loved your poem, I felt like I was right there with you with the bread and jam and yellow leaves.

        Reply
  8. Deborah Campbell says

    November 23, 2021 at 11:52 am

    On this November morning I am grateful for words like these. They lift Tuesday from ordinary to sparkle with the possibilities of a day filled with wonder. Thank you

    Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      November 23, 2021 at 1:42 pm

      “ordinary to sparkle” – well, I just love that, Deborah. Thank you. And thank you for reading!

      Reply
  9. Kim Knowle-Zeller says

    November 24, 2021 at 11:27 am

    A poem of the night leading to the great light and morning of my daughter’s birth //

    On the night you were born
    we waited and waited
    I bounced on a ball
    sat in whirlpool
    whispered prayers over and over:
    “We are waiting for you.”

    On the night you were born
    I wondered about your eyes
    and how you’d smile
    and what would bring you joy
    all the while we waited
    and gave thanks for you.

    On the night you were born
    your first cry told me you were alive
    living and breathing
    now on this side of the world
    I whispered your name:
    “Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte.”

    On the night you were born
    you laid on my chest
    your daddy next to us
    all of us waiting to rest
    in one another
    and our new name, family.

    On the night you were born
    how could we know
    how we’d grow
    and change
    how our hearts would fill with so much love.

    On the night you were born
    God chose you to be ours.

    On the night you were born
    your story just began.

    On the night you were born
    we whispered your name:
    Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte
    you are loved
    the world is waiting. 

    Reply
    • Katie Brewster says

      November 24, 2021 at 12:42 pm

      Kim,
      This is SO beautiful:)
      I love the name Charlotte.
      On this reading these lines stood out to me in particular:
      “all of us waiting to rest
      in one another
      and our new name, family.”
      I won’t be surprised if other lines impact me more on subsequent readings.
      Grateful you shared your joy with us:)
      Katie

      Reply
      • Kim Knowle-Zeller says

        November 24, 2021 at 8:31 pm

        Thank you so much for your kind words!

        Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      December 1, 2021 at 11:39 am

      Kim, this is beautiful. I particularly like the rhythm of it. Because of the image of bouncing on a ball, and the repetition of, “on the night you were born,” it feels like a lullaby.
      Thank you for sharing this.

      Reply
  10. Alyssa Silvester says

    November 25, 2021 at 7:59 am

    Thanksgiving Morning

    The sun begins its ascent, barely coloring the sky
    my babies slumber, unaware of the day’s festivities
    kitchen is still –
    soon the flames will dance, the ovens will heat, the dishes will pile
    turkeys swim in their brine, the roasting and smoking to come
    Did the pie trifecta set? Will the mashed potatoes reheat? Will there be enough space?
    Table rests unadorned of navy napkins, rust tablecloth, candles, and guests
    wedding China waits to be unboxed, to shine under the chandelier
    wine is still corked, glasses are washed, empty, and ready
    cats’ meowing is the only talking.
    For now, I savor the silence
    as pumpkin coffee swirls in my cup
    and my heart fills with what is to come –
    laughter, gratitude, conversations, affection – a feast.

    Reply
    • lynn__ says

      December 1, 2021 at 9:27 pm

      I love the anticipation of a feast of laughter, gratitude, conversation, and affection! Pumpkin coffee (of course!) and navy napkins on rust tablecloth are a nice touch too.

      Reply
  11. lynn__ says

    December 1, 2021 at 9:21 pm

    Thanks Living

    grateful to waken early
    with breath in my lungs
    brew savory cup of tea
    hear ancient word speak

    layer leggings & jeans,
    turtleneck & farm coat,
    wool hat with braided
    tassels, insulated boots

    grateful to leave house
    in dark under moon sliver
    glance of morning star on
    walk to vintage white barn

    feed (pet,referee) cats first
    measure buckets for cows
    clean out bunk and pause
    by old hay shed, hear moos

    of sunrise, watch that scene
    unfurl glorious promises of
    another fresh day above the
    silhouette of neighbor’s farm

    Reply

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