Note to Myself

Concentrate, you god-damned ingrate!
Sure, she's gone, but think of all the splendid
Things which you still have. I will not make
A list for you, but that's something you ought
To try, and when you're finished, note the day:
Thanksgiving, and endorse its spirit.
One loss (rather small, in my view) shouldn't
Cast a frightful pall. The sun shines all around.
Lift up your head, and concentrate.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 50 times
Written on 2018-11-22 at 14:15

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

Rob Graber
Let us by all means try to talk ourselves into being not grumpy for what we don't have, but grateful for what we do!

I think you are right. Love the somehow harsh auto-suggestive tone of the poem.