Mountain high gratitude

                                              "Move me no mountain" ~  painting by Rachel L.
                                                                                              click to enlarge

“TYM (Thank-You Machine)”

TYM

Down in the ground, deep
  underneath the green,

far below the magic
  of the spouting seeds,

in the hot, quick center
  of the everything:

the always-running, mother-loving 

     Thank-You Machine.

High in the sky, above the satellite screen,

past all of the stars all our lenses have seen,

in the still, chill outers of everything:

the ever-shining, atom-binding 

     Thank-You Machine.

   Gabba-gabba, wanna-wanna Thank-You Machine

   Jumblini, crumblini Thank-You Machine

   Hi-ho trailus, hoodoo-voodoo Thank-You Machine

   Boip-boip, woof-woof  Thank-You Machine

Around and surrounding the ripples of being,

into dimensions beyond seventeen,

of the holey, holy torus of the everything:

the inner turning, outer churning Thank-You Machine.

   Oh-pa, baba-re-ba Thank-You Machine

   Pachalafaka Thank-You Machine

   Electric Aunt Jemima with a Thank-You Machine

   Shoop-shoop, Yadda-yadda Thank-You Machine

birthday poem

for daniel

i was going to write an amazing poem for you, 
but the alphabet t u m  b   l     e     d    a     w      a       y

in its place, 

a small seed from a passing bird fell down

in the space cleared by the missing alphabet

where the words weren't 

and the seed was

a worm nirbled up through the soil

and sluiced back down

carrying the seed into the earth

suddenly a leaf flew up (like bird wings)

and another

on a long rope of knotted trunk twine.

more leaves climbed up the rope of vine

looping up and up, 

and began to form whirls and q's

a kind of vegetative alphabet

a cacaphony of letters, a verdant hymn

suddenly it was a jungle, a forest, surging forth

from the vine sprout

from the seed passed by a bird

carried in the earth

in the space cleared by the missing alphabet

all of creation sprouted forth

so large and diverse an earth, 

then a moon slipped up the girth of the trunk

and was held by silver leaves

music from faeries came to life, lit

by this feral green moon, moist with birth and life

everything came out of that spot

as if nature inverted to make more of herself

in celebration of you

the earth made itself, the moon rose in celebration

of your birth, this earth, this day, this breath

and for that, certainly, we hear the faery

tympanum and lute, this song before words,

and after, 

this thanks

Thankathon

Denis Collette, Flickr

You are recruiting praise. A thank evangelist. Think of this poem as a synonym entry for gratitude. 

Yet it is still a poem: use metaphor, even simile. What in nature doesn't praise creation? 

Tags: thankathon, poem, [your moniker]

Hint: check out this Flickr hivemind supersite of graphics keyed to "exult" if you need some inspiration