Best Cloth Poems
Look deep within these loosely-woven layers to find
primeval land with ocean, sky and wind entwined,
skilled hands and eyes of generations gone before
and peat smoke mingling with a sea mist on the shore.
In old and intricate design you may well sense
a solitary piper skirling a lament,
or view the purple heather blowing on the hill,
or hear soft-spoken memories echoing still.
Some bold and joyful as a vibrant summer’s day,
and others tinted as an autumn bride’s bouquet,
some speak of wilderness and yet untrodden ways,
some melancholic strangers to the sun’s sweet rays.
With insight woven and a clarity of mind,
the rhythmic textures of the land we see defined.
With colours of the seasons, each piece of cloth unique,
of planet Earth and nature’s harmony does speak.
Revered now far beyond its island home,
a homespun cloth of gold it has become.
Ambassadors for Scotland, yes indeed,
that’s whisky, Robert Burns and Harris Tweed.
Categories:
cloth, god,
Form:
Rhyme
When love becomes a masochistic moth
That yearns to feel the heat of passion's flame,
It chews a hole through sheets of ardour's cloth.
Its wings ignite, too close to blazing shame;
They glow at first with fervour as they feign
A beauty that becomes a painful game.
The tears can't quell the heat or halt the pain.
They fall to feed the weeds of sprouting dread
And drench the heart with beads of acid rain.
But rest assured that time will smooth and spread
The memories into the shrouded past
And stitch the lesions with a healing thread.
The day will come when joy will blink awake
To leach the sorrow from that phantom ache.
For Craig's "Terza Rima Sonnet" contest
Categories:
cloth, memory,
Form:
Sonnet
soda sparks
and lemon juice
on every lip
and candle wick
explosion
of the champagne kind
to bubble brains
and swirl the minds
when summer limps
upon two heels
we break our vows
and kneel to feel
the rhythm of the losing heat
when soda sparks
in weak appeal
as sidewalks bend
their thoughts to me
while overactive melodies
complete themselves
in summer nights
I barely fall without a fight
and candles dim
and lights grow white
I know the drill, tonight's the night
I lick the summer off my chin
and grab September, and head on in...
Categories:
cloth, happiness, life, nature, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
pull the cloth from your eyes
look no further
gently turn your attention
towards its plaid patterns
its glimmering splendor
dwarfed by the dawn of day
Categories:
cloth, horror, paradise,
Form:
Free verse
Drop cloth dreams
It has been found that given enough time
failure will find this destined loser
lurking in gallery tints
and watercolor fault lines
semi gloss replaced by flat
Painting abstract nothings
on a canvas made of words
Broken brushes stain the existing
balance with a voice that collects the remnants
speaking tarnished silver when silence should be golden
Pop art wastelands of dotted balloons
float above the ground where his face falls,
shamed and hidden, in plain sight
with eyes holding quarters of bygone years
melting clocks keep time with his idiocy
Impressionists laugh at his existence
in muted tone chuckles and turpentine snickers
Stretched on easels of dislodged glances
with splattered smocks tied in double knots
one size fits all
This palette of mixed memories
resting on mainstream notions, waits
for the end is sure to come
finding him alone with an empty imagination
and nothing but drop cloth dreams
6/1/17
For the JUNE PREMIERE CONTEST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Categories:
cloth, art, lost, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Middle of winter
When the snow falls frequently
Earth opens its arms lovingly
Snow lands on the ground
Leaving cloth like covering
Over the smooth flowing bed
Russell Sivey
Categories:
cloth, life, nature,
Form:
Choka
A thin, frail man of the cloth
who went to England to study law at the age of 19
It was there that he was inspired by
Henry David Thoreau’s ‘Civil Disobedience’
On Jan. 30, 1948 at 5:12 in the evening
as he walked to a prayer meeting
Nathuram Vanayak Godge,
a young Hindu who opposed his views
approached him and bowed
A young girl in the group said
“Brother, Bapu is already late”
He pushed her aside and shot him...
three times in the chest
with a Beretta semi-automatic pistol
His last words were “Rama, Rama”
meaning to him ‘The same God’
Rama is derived from the Hebrew word ‘womb’
also meaning mercy and compassion
which is why it is said that he forgave his killer
before he died…
The name Mahatma means ‘great soul’
Just as Gandhi was inspired by Thoreau
Martin Luther King was in turn inspired by Gandhi
Mahatma Gandhi. A thin, frail man of the cloth
who shook the world to its very foundations
And the battle rages on...
***Dedicated to the people of the country of Bangladesh, who have suffered yet another great tragedy...One of many in their very short history. Gandhi, by the way, strongly opposed the division of the two countries when they won independence...The title of this poem of course does not mean that Gandhi was Catholic or any other Christian religion. Gandhi practiced Hinduism, yet he was a true 'man of the cloth'...wearing only homemade loincloths and sandals
For Cyndi’s contest
Categories:
cloth, culture, , hinduism,
Form:
Narrative
the heart shall only work
with the fabric of love because
we are cut from the same cloth
Categories:
cloth, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
A simple piece of cloth
Square, rectangular, oblong
Soft blue, pink, green
Woven, nubby or smooth
It matters not
Cloth
Swaddling my infant babe
Cloth
In tatters
Bearing injuries honorably
Chewed, dragged, hugged
Kitty, bear or tiger
Cloth comes alive
In my toddler’s arms
Cloth
Stretched over table or chair
Tent, house or fire station
My busy lad
Creates an island of safety
So proud am I and is he
Cloth
At preschool
Comforting
Cuddled briefly
Stuffed quickly
Into a backpack
Forgotten in busy play
Cloth
Lying inert
Discarded
In an attic chest
Squatting
On the ground
My teen barely notices
Its displacement
His mind alive
New ideas
New destinations
New loves
Cloth over his marriage bed
Immaculately placed
Or rumpled, tossed, lost
Covering two
Sometimes three
Or more
Bills litter the surface by day
Crumbs hide within by night
A polka-dotted pattern
Tears of joy and sorrow
Aged now
Letting go
Of all
But this one piece of cloth
Grateful for its presence
Wrapping, wrapping
Boundaries fading
Cloth as a shroud
Returning his body
To its source
A blanket is never just a blanket....
Categories:
cloth, age, destiny, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
we were so hot
no time to stop
to take it all off
it was in our loft
went on mabe it was wrong
we had
SEX WITH CLOTH ON
Categories:
cloth, adventure, memory,
Form:
Light Verse
life is like cloth
your life exceeds until
you miss a stitch and something goes wrong
so you live your life
now and forever
sewing ife one stitch at a time.
Categories:
cloth, life,
Form:
Free verse
8/28/16
So damn many thoughts
And plots
Oppurtunity knocks
Around the clock
East and West, Biggie and Pac
True legends that will always remain at the top
Never going to be forgot
Trust me no time to stop
Get after that guap
Protect yourself and the ones you love, twenty four seven watch
Regardless of if she just wants to shop
And to have a bezel with a rock
Had to be stronger than an ox
Thinking outside the box
Freestyle like it or not
Grew up in the woods, with so many animals including hawks, fox and wasps
At night around the lights swarmed many moths
A lot of friends had horses and water troughs
As well as gardens with vegetables including squash
Out by a wilderness filled with trees some of which were covered in moss
Bodies of water dried up or continued to flow and wash
Near and far from any parking lots
I always tried to connect the dots
Sun shine, rain, wind or frost
I like mild, medium and hot sauce
Plenty of times I took a loss
And paid the cost
In the end there was benefits for me and the boss
Meanwhile people still are praying near a mosque
Or cross
Just not cut from the same cloth
Any time, place and spot
People getting beaten by a lock
Stuffed into a sock
Even when their lights turn off
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
cloth, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
I grow with you in life,
I grow with you in my heart,
You were brought to me in my youth,
I respected you in my presence,
A guide that showed me my country's past,
A symbol of my countrymen's pride,
The affection and love of what is true,
You take us far and wide,
you teach us views of life,
A symbol of strength,
A show of passion,
My show of this nation,
We provide for thee,
We support thee,
We respect thee,
And We as a people will protect, honor and care for thee!
Categories:
cloth, inspirational, me,
Form:
Blank verse
© 2012 (Jim Sularz)
A stitch, a knot, a sudden tear,
some missing counts along the folds.
Her cloth was sewn in Life's fine linen,
and bordered, in marygolds.
Still monogrammed, but mostly worn,
in bold initials, RHS.
With mauve tear-dropped appliqués,
in the center, two silhouettes.
For naked she came and naked she left,
her embroidered life was sewn untold.
In pink chenille and diamond eyelets,
with resplendent marygolds!
Categories:
cloth, family, farewell,
Form:
Quatrain
At the end of the day,
it's just cloth and dye.
At the end of the day,
it's personal preference.
Fifty stars representing states,
each one could highlight
historical atrocities.
Each one could highlight
technological ingenuity
The red and white
could easily resemble
the fight we continue today.
Black and white
still quoting an eye for an eye.
She's been about division
for quite sometime
but her earliest endeavor to
describe national policy
began with We the People
and we've struggled ever since
to make it stick.
At the end of the day,
you could lay it down as a rug,
disrespect its blood.
Roll all her tainted fibers
into one fabric and say
the whole of her is bad,
but at the heart of it,
She'll always be seen
flying flagpole high.
No matter how many times
she gets trampled,
No matter how many times
she seemingly does it to herself,
At the end of the day,
Her cloth represents
blood soaked uniforms
and families mourning
a son or a daughter
who didn't get a chance
to say that proper farewell.
The white, an always
washable purity
that allows some to step
on her and still
stand as freedom's bedrock.
The blue. Valor
and more where that came from.
At the end of the day,
it's just cloth and dye
representing Soldiers who died
That's why my feet will never
touch her until she's draped
over my coffin.
Lay it on the ground
or watch her dance in the wind
She's us. She's them.
She's saying We the People again.
Categories:
cloth, america, appreciation, freedom, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse