Best Embroidery Poems
If I were a poet
I would pour pieces
Of my heart on pages
Paint in crystalline clarity
The anguish of my ancestors
My poems would be embroidery
Tailoring the strives
of this generation
I would write aspiration
on the mountains of mama Liberia
That her children - yet unseen
Can see and maintain our dreams
If I were a poet
I would write the dead to life
How deep can a poem be to cause a resurrection?
I would write poems so deep
Even the earth will use as its axis
I would perform spoken words
That would send you in awe
Because I would play on more words
Than any dictionary ever did
I would take the hand
Of my pen in marriage
And you would call me
Mr. Inkredible
If I were a poet
I would use my writings
To spray the fragrance of principles
As prove that if you keep
standing for yourself
You can become statuesque
If I were a poet
I would write the name of my Motherland
In every anthology I see
So that someone somewhere
Can see the beauty of my lineage
I would use words
To build skyscrapers of optimism
The truth is
I want to become a poet
But
I haven't found the right words yet
EMBROIDERY OF VELLUM
A clean poem composed
Thee vellum virgin
Lace betrothed in length
Your satin train embraced
Thee embroidery in apple gold
Girdled in silver refined
And curvature of silhouette
Delicate with subtle design
6/25/2017
Lyric Poem
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in baskets of silver
proverbs 25:11 Bible ESV version
She sat peacefully by the window
Gnarled brown hands creating magic
Every tiny stitch danced around in joy
The pastel blue and enchanting pink
Peeked from under her hands
The basket with its weaves and hues
Stood surrounded by tiny daises
She stitched love and care into each flower
Head bent life flowed from her hands
A garden filled with treasures
Night came, moonlight beamed
Hands still lovingly moved across the threads
Dress finished, she slowly stood
Eyes caressing the wedding dress
A gift from grandma so old
03/06/2011
By Tahera Mannan
.
embroidery fun
stamped cross-stitch colors design..
one single blood stain
Contest Entry..
Silken thread
weaves charming patterns
of many colours
Cross stitch
needle in and out
Creating design of
pastoral harmony
When completed
and framed it will
hang on wall
for many years
Finally
finding its way
into thrift shop
With luck someone
who appreciates
vintage crafts
will happily take home
this humble offering
So, the journey begins.
Charming Patterns
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
Julia Ward
27/09/2021
God tried to warn him many times
He got the handwriting on wall
Important for us really is
We need to recognize all
Life is like embroidery piece
Looking at the back side
Not so very drawing or neat
Just a jumble of threads
Turned over beauty_intricate
Design just started; done?
When just started partial picture
What will be when life's done
Our lives are being finished now
By master embroider
He will need kings, queens, princesses
At his loving command
Embroidery
It’s okay
To close your eyes
To fall asleep
To breath in deep
If inferno heat
Shall sway the wind
Or kill the flame
May it boldly show itself
A frog upon a log
Or a lily pad
An embroidered cushioning
A round , flat leaf
For the water lily
Lilac
Ivory
Lavender blooms
Water daises
Cupped hands
Receiving fruit
A mandala
All- encompassing
Far - reaching
And symmetrical
An artichoke
Floating in the lake or pond
Or rooted in the wet dirt
Recollection of thoughts
Steps taken before
A walk along the road
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
09/05/19
Embroidery cloth
Expensive, fashionable
Takes hours to have one.
down on the floor
hands and feet would lift me ~
i was a plane
blew up balloons
she made me animals ~
i was dazzled
taught me stitches
loved skilled embroidery ~
i was craft sown
drew paper dolls
sketched with clothes to cut out ~
i was prized fun
read tales aloud
fueled my fantasies ~
i was book hooked
spent time with me
shared skills and joys with me ~
mama loved me
Embroidery arts
Precious heritage of prime
Blend style with time.
Embroidery thread comes in hundreds of hues
And searching the shelves it’s not easy to choose.
One purple’s too dark but the next one’s too light;
It’s hard to find one that is perfectly right.
Yet buying some extras just makes lots of sense
Since the thread isn’t close to a major expense;
So when I get some fabric to work on a quilt,
I purchase a bunch of new threads with no guilt.
Today my collection increased by a few,
Including a bold and bright turquoise-type blue.
I know that wherever my project has led,
I’ll never get stuck, hanging there by a thread.
Beneath the evening's astral embroidery, a kiss blossomed shyly,
A spark of hope, golden and gentle, in the fabric of the fleeting.
An arching celestial, lips gently incline towards the sea, aspiring to eternity,
And retreat serene, with the measure of the waves, in a whisper of dance and twilight.
They watch hidden, wrapped in crowns of smoke of memories,
A mysterious echo of silence that embraces the lake, the mirror of those unspoken words.
Hands unbound, through a labyrinth of dreams swayed by the wind,
Like birds that, in flight, relentless, lose themselves in the high blue of the skies.
And we, in the duet of destinies, embrace silences, see them as endless crystals,
Where once the candors of smiles now get lost in a rime of ice, as inheritance.
With locked doors, our souls paint in the canvas of days gone by,
And the tears of heavenly altars crystallizing in the air construct the invisible sign overshaded.
A massive wall rises on the horizon, the hours divide with implanted needles,
The plains of our love, now arid steppes, thirsting after the rains of falling stars,
Our chambers, once vibrant alcoves, now wait desolate,
Watch with the patience of a statue, coveting the brilliance of magic that brings love into mystical rebirth.
And there will come an interlude, somewhere, I do not know when, illuminated by reborn lights,
Unfolding before us the hidden play of the divine fragment and of mystery,
When the maelstrom of love that lay in doubts and questions,
Leaves behind only two solitary souls, regal in their peace,
Enswathed in a cocoon, where nocturnal butterflies await to metamorphose into a new flight.
Beneath the evening's astral embroidery, the kiss was born timidly,
A spark of hope, golden and gentle, in the fabric of the ephemeral.
A celestial arch, lips slowly bend towards the sea, aspiring to eternity,
And they withdraw serenely, to the measure of the waves, in a whisper of dance and twilight.
They gaze hidden, enveloped in coronas of smoke from memories,
A mysterious echo of calm that embraces the lake, the mirror of those unspoken words.
Hands unbound, through a labyrinth of dreams swayed by the wind,
Like the birds that, in relentless flight, get lost in the blue of the high skies.
And we, in the duet of fates, embrace silences, to us, they seem endless crystals,
Where the candors of smiles now get lost in a shoal of ice, as inheritance.
With locked doors, our souls paint, in the tableau of the bygone days,
While the tears of celestial altars crystallize in the air, rise the sign of the invisible shadowing.
A massive wall rises from the horizon, the hours separate with embedded pins,
Our field of love, now arid steppes, thirsty for the rains of falling stars,
Our chambers, once vibrant alcoves, now await in emptiness,
With the patience of a statue watching, longing for the brilliance of magic that brings love in mystical rebirth.
And there will come an interlude, somewhere, I do not know when, flash-stricken by the reborn lights,
The hidden play of the divine shard and the mystery unfolds before us,
When the maelstrom of love that lay in suspicions and questions,
Leaving behind only two solitary souls, regal in their peace,
Wrapped in a cocoon, where nocturnal butterflies wait to metamorphose into a new flight.
Little Oreo is nine months
Already planning his embroidered wall hanging
He’s so lovely he smashes the house,lol
I think he knows he’s spoiled
Can’t quite work his colouring out
Needs to be applied before I make judgement
He’s got a black fur on his face
No distinguishing markings but under his chin
Only white whiskers will make it stand out
And some clever shading.
Little Professor Oreo Double Cream Theodore Esquire.
Yesterday, at Maker Space, I completed
Embroidering the image of your second home,
And you were sitting in there alone.
I also added embroidery of the poem,
Titled 2024.7.29, the first poem I posted
The one being featured on the Poetry Soup home page once.
I also included a popular poem in foreign language,
Which formed the lyrics of a movie's theme.
It crossed my mind,
How would you feel the minute you saw it?
If I was you, I treasured every meaningful item,
Especially if it directly related to me.
It depicted your image, from green beanie,
Black and white stripe woolly scarf, khaki creamy jacket,
Blue jean and the runners of bright green soles colour.
One day, when you have a chance
To read my poems on the Poetry Soup website
Please be kind to make some comments,
Have my memories served me well?
Except for the grammar, was there anything I wrote,
Was untrue or inaccurate?
It was hard to believe but it was true that
Honesty and keeping promises,
Were not the best policies,
In the current society.
I couldn't help it. It was me.
Can not help and can not change it.