Best Needle Poems
He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies
His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole
I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion
He spit ease and promised comfort
His perversions helped to define me
He fed off the helpless story my eyes told
Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks
The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became
2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,
Praying for something better
The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together
I take the shot and let it break me to pieces
I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster
I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.
I am delirium. I am carelessness.
I am 37 flavors of wreckage
I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.
I am the dope sack and the remains left behind
I am just weight on the mattress
I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor
I am the holes in my arms
I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore
Yet, I still believe I am endless
I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way
In this ecstasy
I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost
In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag
It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree
My bad decisions and remorse surround me
In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv
It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat
I am alone but my broken parts fit right in
The sticky windows separate us from daily life
This is a place of isolation, not escape
The morning sun doesn’t shine on us
We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,
Singing our needle point lullaby.
HOW I LOVE CROCHETING....HOW IT RELAX ME SO....
EVERY TIME I USE MY CROCHET HOOK....
I'M SOMEWHERE ELSE...FAR AWAY I LOOK...
WHETHER I'M DOWN IN WONDERLAND....
WHETHER I'M IN A SILK RED GOWN,LIKE IN OUT LANDER...IN SCOTLAND....
WHETHER I'M DAY DREAMING OF A MUCH BETTER LIFE....
FAR,FAR,AWAY IN BRIGADOON...AS SOMEONE'S FUTURE WIFE....
OR EVEN IN A COUNTRY FARM HOUSE WITHIN MY DREAMS....
WHILE I CROCHETING ANYTHING....ISN'T WHAT IT SEEMS....
CROCHETING IS MY FAVORITE DRUG....
AT LEAST IT KEEPS AWAY FOOLISH WHORES AND THUGS....
LIFE IS WAY TOO DAMNED SHORT TO BE SWEEPING UP SOMEBODY ELSE'S RUGS....
FROM A BABY SACK OF RAINBOW COLORS DELIGHT....
TO A TINY WEE CHILD'S CLOAK...VERY WARM FOR A VERY COLD NIGHT....
A WHITE WEDDING CLOAK....YES,I MADE THAT,TOO.....
AND EVEN MULTI~COLORED PATCHES...FOR A BLANKET,I HELPED LADY SUE...
MUFFIN CAPS,AND EVEN SHAWL WRAPS...
AND I'VE EVEN CROCHETED,UNTIL I TOOK A NAP...
HAPPINESS,IN THIS ART I DO....
I EVEN BEEN INSPIRED BY A CLOAK MADE BY FIRST NATION INDIANS AT THE OAKLAND MUSEUM OF CALIFORNIA...AND I'M STILL NOT THROUGH....
CROCHETING EVEN SAVED MY LIFE....
BARELY A YEAR I JOINED BEFORE MY BELOVED MOTHER HAD DIED...
THIS BE MY TRIBUTE TO WHAT I DO...
LIFE IS WONDERFUL,THROUGH AND THROUGH....
HARD TIMES COME...AND HARD TIMES GO....
BUT,CROCHETING...IN TRUTH FULFILLS MY SOUL....
THIS BE MY HAPPINESS...THIS BE MY GOAL....
CROCHETING IS A HELL OF A DRUG...THAT I MUST CONFESS....
IT FULFILLS MY NIRVANA...NO LESS...!
God, tell me the mystery of your will.
For as far as I can see is your majesty.
The desert is as small as the eye of a needle.
And it is, in this paradise, a travesty.
The flowing springs are sparkling clear and cool,
And they water the green foliage and flowers.
From hill to hill, beauty is on display,
And, in every direction, proof of your growing powers.
*spot poetry: Written in 15 minutes or less about any random subject.
Betwixt
Betwined
Beneath the tweed
lay the nasty pin
It pierced my toe without a need
My foot had lost again
Of all the places I should step
I landed on this pain
"Walkin' on pins and needles"
just doesn't mean the same
I merely stepped up to the lamp
To read the daily news
When all at once
The pin, it stuck
Submerged up through my shoe
And yelling out obscenities
I screamed these words in pain
"Either I get shoes with thicker soles
or ne'er read news again"
Grandmother sits in her rocking chair
nearly as old as she
ragged patches of scrap spread across her lap.
She tells stories from her eighty years of senescence,
of faces now aged, some no longer bound by this earth
as though they were still enjoying the blessings of youth-
as fresh in her mind as the daisies and buttercups I picked for her this morning
and placed beside her chair;
its occasional accompanying squeaks affirming her words from time to time.
She did not know then that she was sewing two blankets for me;
weaving quilts of words
from patterns of memories
patching good times to bad
making one smooth blanket of emotions.
The needle stings-it's true
but only so little by comparison
to the warmth it provides
I thought you were my needle in the hay
The soulmate I’d been searching for, for endless days
The love of a lifetime, here on poetrysoup
Right under my nose, and I never knew
Till I found you one night, when I couldn’t sleep
Your words like sweet bees, pollinating me
We chatted and joked and had so much fun
I realized at once that you were “the one”
The one to complete me, the one I had sought
Until I saw your new picture, and saw you were NOT
The “Chris” that I thought - but a girl!
A GIRL! A gir-l couldn’t complete my world!
You weren’t a needle in the hay
You were just you, with your gir-l face
Your tiger picture, a fantasy mistake -
A dead flower I shake out of my vase
The dreams I held fast
Red petals, now in the trash
3/12/12
Inspired by Chris Aechtner
I have found that throughout life
You can be a needle or a knife.
Either you heal, repair, and bind
Or sever, injure, and divide.
With words and deeds we so ordain
To be arbiters of peace or pain,
To fasten tight or slash apart,
To cherish or to break a heart.
Each moment shapes the tool we use
So today, which will you choose?
8/24/2016
Five Rhyming Stanzas -5 only- Poetry Contest entry
Long needle pines
chant in a gentle breeze.
I sit motionless. Bathed
in the canorous drone,
feel the tremors
of life’s longing,
the ring of ageless wisdom,
sense the strength
of stoic serenity.
Would that I could take root
and join them
…….in their moment.
5/15/2022
Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest
wri
ting is
knitting
your life
thro ugh
a nee dle
and if
you sew
emotion
secret
you’ll
get
nu
dg
ed
a
w
e
e
n
s
y
Writing is knitting through the needle if you sew emotion, secret, you'll get nudged a weensy
Mahogany pillars
Lace mosaic,
Velvet on silk
Champagne taste,
Heartbeats rush
Smooth on rough
Muscular, petite
Tongues encourage
Elevated pulse,
Lovers blush
Insatiable thirst
Skin upon flesh,
Begging, obeying
Sweet nothings, yes
Loose headboard, hush
Satin sheets ruffled,
Pillows lost
Mirrored ceiling
Nails sink deep,
Softness, plush
Rhythm adjusts
Gods name in vain,
Animal released
Triumphant,
Life waters, gush
Timeless innate
A side effect,
Something’s late
Unexpected gift,
Breathe, push
By David Kavanagh
Once again, needle me in.
I enjoy releasing poison,
Through your scarred skin.
A prick to poke daily, yes I win!
I take any respect, and self confidence.
You blame me for problems, you've had since back then.
As If you can't believe, state took away your kids.
Look closer into the mirror.
And see the person.
Who you lost long ago
Keep on running.
Your just about to do
Exactly what I said.
Hold your arm out
Full of dope, needle me in.
Ashamed now are we?
From all the bruising.
The feel of being high
Is temporary.
When you see tomorrow's light
In the morning.
Your still you.
Do something positive about it.
Don't be afraid.
Change is a blessing.
To save a soul from hell.
And all his demons.
Count your lucky stars.
For all of your scars.
Every one tells a story.
That made you who you are.
Being a drug addict.
You've come this far.
This new beginning with Him,
give all glory to God.
For He will never leave you.
Alone in the dark.
He shines light to the path.
Where you have always belonged.
A place with happiness
People with loving hearts.
You have family who do care
Be sure to Thank them all.
Needle me in to
The past back so far
Never to be brought back.
Now over and beyond.
So now little man you're tired of grass,
LSD,PCP, cocaine, speed and hash.
You think you've tried them all, think again.
When someone pretending to be a true friend,
Says "I'll introduce you to Miss Heroine."
You'll need lots of money, haven't you been told?
For darling, I am more expensive than gold.
You'll start by inhaling me one afternoon.
Then You'll take me into your arms very soon.
And once I'm deep, deep in your veins.
The cravings will drive you insane.
The chills, the cold sweats, the pains.
Which can only be eased by my little white grains.
The nightmares, the guilt, your guts in knot.
Begging and screaming, for just one more shot.
You'll swindle your mother for less than a buck.
And end up in an animal vile, and go corrupt.
You think you've got the mystical knack.
Just try getting me off your back.
Keep telling yourself you're not a disgrace.
Only to find out you're addicted to poppy seed waste.
In the end you'll give up your mind, body and heart.
And then you'll be mine till death do us part.
Vaccines are all carefully made
To fight what should make us afraid
Some hate the syringe
And now they should cringe
As hosts the bad germs could invade
Assured in her beliefs,
My Grandma knew the score:
Not many folk would get to Heaven;
The following would be ignored.
A black man, Jew, Italian,
Catholic, Greek, or Slav,
Misguided Presbyterian,
Adolescent plotting Love.
The Poor, because they should have saved,
The Rich who had too much,
The Drunkard for his need,
The Cripple for his crutch.
Soda jerks (that's bottled drink)
Beauticians? Vanity.
A neighbor Boy once sat with me
Beneath the willow tree.
All these she held apart,
In Scripture being able
Secure in righteousness to find
For diversity a label.
For In-laws she had Charity,
A level Christian measure,
Sufficient thus to demonstrate
Duty over Pleasure.
Of children, there were three,
(Increase will prevail)
Precisely formed and tolerated,
Though indeed one was a Male!
This identical deficiency
Was incumbent on her Spouse.
(Something like an in-law
Only always in the house.)
I'd have liked, Grandma, to see you greet
The missionaried Heathen
Whose Souls the eggs were sold to save.
Just who is let into your Heaven?
So cleverly you read the text,
So sweet you sang the song.
I love you, Grandma, you tried so hard
And got everything so wrong!
Threading Hunger’s Needle
by Odin Roark
Acumen's voice smolders quietly
When deafened ears respond only
To discords of witlessness.
Perception's heat invites comfort,
Its embers remaining alive,
Its wake of constant resolve
Lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
Choking away illiteracy,
Ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.
Ever present, creation’s insight
Remaining airborne in a void for those
With causeless breath being held,
Affecting not its surroundings,
Forever stale within ether locked,
Where roiling chasms of fear
Exude odiferous spoilage,
Rotting,
Polluting,
Repelling.
Such misery holds steady,
Amidst the multitudes’ repeated indulgences of flesh,
Where masses’ quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
remain stagnant.
But cling it will,
This resistance to reflection and growth,
Feeling falsely safe in unknowing
The rewards of philological pondering,
Literature’s sign and verbal,
Touch and smell,
Eye and ear,
An all-sensitive motion
Making ready transference from literal
To one’s personal ethereal possession.
For some…
A chosen distance remains preferred.
A huddled observation from
Deep in the abyss of ignorance,
Convinced personal importance is to perish alone
Amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise.
Always close by, however…
Wisdom’s whisper continues to nurture hunger’s tenacity,
Knowing a needle unthreaded is of little use.