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In My Quilting Class

My stitches aren’t even; My squares don’t line up straight And if you want a quilt from me, It’s years you’ll have to wait. Yet every Thursday, there I sit, My needle pulling thread, With not a thought beyond that room Carousing in my head. I’m calm, relaxed and in control And while my scissors snip, I bask in camaraderie And crafting fellowship. My projects hang around the house And in my grandkids’ rooms, But it is in my quilting class Where my composure blooms.

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Maurice Rigoler

Date: 10/30/2018 8:49:00 PM

I can relate to your joy of quilting. I was raised in a family of of 7 aunts whose mother (my grandmama) who made an evening each week to work on a guilt. Nothing fancy, just what they called a "crazy quilt" because nothing matched and all the many pieces differed in shape. My mother, however, in her later years did so some beautiful patterned guilts, and I even designed a pattern for her. Nicely written, Ilene. Thanks for stopping by. / M

Rico Leffanta

Date: 10/26/2018 12:57:00 PM

Another "Nicely done"! My grandmother left a treasury of quilts including one which her great-grandfather had carded the wool, so it is time well spent, but - as talented as you are, I suspect you were still composing poetry! Aloha! Rico

Chris Green

Date: 10/26/2018 8:05:00 AM

I can relate to this, not that I quilt but I know those who do and it seems that when they are sitting there with needle in hand there is no better place to be. Nice one Ilene.

Line Gauthier

Date: 10/25/2018 4:36:00 PM

Wonderful, Ilene. Sounds like you found the perfect group... if only they could meet more often, right? Lovely poem.