The Wampanoag people came
to help the Plymouth Colony.
Trusting, they did not lay claim
they simply aided by the sea.
Many died in both groups fair
from illness and from lack of food.
In scarcity their stores were bare
not yet because of any feud.
Barely recovered, Harvest end,
a celebration was in view.
Pilgrims invited native friends
to thank the Lord for mercies, new.
The after years brought ups and downs
for men in leather, men in suits,
women in leather, women in gowns
all thankful for creator’s fruits.
Let us continue in that same
grateful way, all different tribes
and stop assigning other’s blame,
instead our thankfulness inscribe.
For enough food to stay alive,
and from each other we can learn,
shelter in which we can thrive,
for fellow man to show concern.
Let us not strive in bitterness
but rather, peace we should be living.
And keep the law of true kindness,
the essence of our real Thanksgiving.
©Pamela Johnson 2012
I lost my thoughts from winter
And it seems a wasteful thing
All because I penned them not
while midnight bells did ring
All dark and rich and flavorful
Thick blackness in my cup
I tipped it up and looked at it
Then drank the whole lot up
Through frightened forest frantically
Through cobwebs and the moss
I headed North despairingly
Before life was a loss
But now my fears, anxieties
Are tucked under the rug
I’ll stomp them down ignoringly
Contentment like a drug
This silent battle cycles
Underneath the cloak of life
If I can keep it hidden
My success will be my strife
©Pam Johnson 2008
Creeping slowly first one in my twenties
So busy didn’t notice in my thirties
Forties were spent writing silly ditties…
I looked one day and noticed many more
And couldn’t quite decide what is in store
Brown, blonde, red, gray, probly more than four.
Which color wins is looking very clear
No matter how I part it in the mirror
I see reflected Grandma’s hair – so dear.
©Pam Johnson 2009