Best Sewn Poems
When the auctioneer first shows it,
I feel a sudden piercing shock.
My grandma's hand-sewn antique quilt
Is on the auction block.
It is the lovely basket pattern
And her stitches are so neat,
It must have taken tedious hours
For my grandma to complete.
I have taken such good care of it
Since my daddy left it to me,
And I wrapped up in it often
When the day was dark and gloomy.
Grandma sewed in her initials
And the year that she had made it.
One hundred-fifty-two years of wear and age
Couldn't help but start to fade it.
Grandma didn't know the fortune
That her hand-stitched quilt could bring,
When it was held up as an antique
In a future auction ring.
My heart is truly hurting
And I cannot stop the tears,
For giving up the treasure
I have loved for all these years.
Grandma made it for her hope chest,
While my grandpa was at war.
The year was Eighteen Sixty three.
My grandma was twenty-four.
But I know Grandma would agree with me,
That the life of our little Nell
Is worth more than a beloved quilt.
It is the right time to sell.
There is so much history going with it,
To this quilt's lucky buyer.
I hope he bids a hundred thousand.
Or if we're lucky, even higher.
For Auctioneer contest
100,000 dollars bid
I like someone
who speaks all my languages
not just their own
I love someone
who when I get
my head sewn to the carpet
doesn't say
"Good luck with that "
The wind
comes in at night,
bringing with it new ghosts
but I'm wrapped tight in mother's quilt,
each painstaken swatch stitched by her own hand
She sings a breathy lullabye
and rocks me to sleep in
the cradle of
the wind
God stitches together our life story
A patchwork quilt sewn meticulously
With all the best and tough times included
Not any experience excluded.
God watches over us and it does seem
That He doth perfectly sew a fine seam
Our quilt keeps on growing out in the mist
So we leave behind His wonderful gift.
Every stitch is sewn in with tender care
Each patch having unique stories to share
Stories telling all that we are made of
Our worries, troubles and mostly our love.
Reminders of all the deeds we have done
Plenty to recall, all happiness spun
Then when the quilt has come to completion
Hopefully it's a worthy achievement.
Each patch is a piece of our history
The essence that makes up who's you and me
Tears and fears that our ups and downs arouse
The laughter, the smiles that wrinkle our brows.
Thank God for His love and His tender care
For the quilt that'll warm someone's heart somewhere.
Still unwritten not quite, filled in
every word has pinned itself to story
like a sewing machine stitch
down a runway path to somewhere;
Turning points and zig zag threading
let the seams tell of the glory
Pages of my life sealed inside a book
like bookends at a fairground
holding steady until the rider mounts;
Still unwritten not yet ready to wear,
this garmented padded book of tales
isn't finished yet, ...
Until a dried rose gets pressed
against the pages of my life,
my eulogy stands told
in my book, of life.
"Seams Sewn in Souls Strung like Pearls Cast out into the World"
In each of us
a pearl
God
the unknown
embryonic
soul
In each of us
the common
thread
Seams Sewn in Souls Strung like Pearls
Cast out into the World
Different beds
Same Road
Home
(Lovejoy-Burton/September 2018)
1. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/15/style/sunni-colon-music.html
"Sewn"
Super hero
come walk fire with me
all super heroes are freaks
fuelled by their hidden vulnerability
and their dark cherished secrets
poets some consider romantic freaks
some hide quietly mining
whittling their time away,
some are hell-bent, heaven-sent
breaking glass ceilings
strange bitter sweet creatures
writing in regiments
riding astride their own gallant ponies
something missing,
something incomplete
yet all possess war medals
skewered through their hearts
decorated with garlands
of dripping scarlet and sapphire poésies
some are just fresh and green jaded trophies
way out there
in foreign territory
see them basking like
well fed leopards changing spots
off planet, far removed from the fringe
breaking glass ceilings
yet stories in solid books
stitched up and minds firmly planted
long and short sentences sown together
with strong spines
never to be broken again
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
abstract.
dripping scarlet poésies/bleeding hearts
sapphire poésies/blue poetry (take that whichever way you wish)
of course, blue and red could refer to the colours of flags
or the quandary between taking pills, blue or red...
green jaded trophies (best left to one's imagination...)
http://articles.latimes.com/2004/dec/25/nation/na-cowboy25
Either Sown or Sewn
or Flower or Flour
Either it is to be sewn or sown
Which one should be left alone?
Maybe small seeds or some stitching
Back and forth we are always switching.
Sown seeds will soon start to grow
Flexible fingers become when you sew
So if I should sew or start to embroider
With what will me brain have to reconnoiter?
Into life itself some small seed will spring
And at all when we start to sew anything
A certain pattern will evolve and become
Like my many poems when you read some.
Are sewn and sown really, actually related
Both become building blocks of the educated
Still what you sew or sow will always reap
Even though bills have started piling steep.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Each eager for a fabric
woven with love classic
had ridden textile wagons
thru much spastic traffic.
Seeking their prime patent
of material fantastic, they
both fell flattened in cloth
scenes dramatic; wrinkle-doom,
static dragons had torched
all their wagons.
Then, a textile server sewed
them together with threaded
fervor. Now two, his burlap
made battens are by her satin
fastened to strap their love
gladdened in passion’s best
lacy tatting. Their burlap and
satin when curled up in nothin’
is the best seamed somethin’
in the fabric magic patent.
... CayCay Jennings
March 21, 2018
Hello my love, it's dawn's first light
Time to end this time called night
I wish I may, I wish I might,
I did...Hold my love asleep so tight
Caring about nothing, having no fear
Just being together with those I hold dear
Silent shadows disappear with the thought of them
Bringing remorse and sad feelings, to a victorious end
Hopes are high, dreams are big
Heart is pumping like an oil rig
Closing in near, near so to touch
Never had ambition endorse thought so much
Raising the flag of victory, over this barren heart
It's not easy to mend it, after being broken and torn apart
But this heart has found its tailor, who has sewn it back to one
And now, when this heart sleeps, it stays loved for millenniums
This heart has grown,
This heart has been sewn,
This heart is now owned,
This heart.....may be happier than it's ever known
She sat for hours
Needle in hand
Stitching in silence
Inviting medleys
She stitched together
Hues happy and glad
Brilliant and vibrant
Inviting medleys
She threaded her needle
Gently with patience
Taking time to create
Inviting medleys
She laced each stitch
Careful, a caress
Against soft fabric
Inviting medleys
She pieced each square
Rectangle or triangle
Together with care
Inviting medleys
She gave her heart
To the pieces she sewed
Weaving hope with her thoughts
Inviting medleys
She held out the quilt
Sensational dreams
Blowing on souls
Inviting medleys
She gave them away
Pieces of her love
Graceful praise
Inviting medleys
She was always laughing
Alive with compassion
Filling her stitches with light
Inviting medleys
She wove love and hope
Into her quilts
Delighting spirits
Inviting medleys
''T'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
November 7, 2021
TAPESTRY THEME WORD
~
Dressed in a jacket of tie dyed illusion
Measuring moments to spare
Dangling truth in the seams of confusion
Camouflaged, nothing to wear
Fastened by Velcro in heart strings of passion
Sewn with a lingering thread
Patterns on paper with words now in fashion
Running the walkway instead
Fabrics are woven of promised affection
Altering hemlines anew
Polishing buttons to claim your reflection
Love it looks so good on you
11/01/19
For the: Fashion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
My lips are sewn-
for silence is all I've ever known,
and all I was ever shown-
so to this habit, I too, became prone;
a habit that thrives, though I have grown.
My desires and goals shaded by a heart,
that was once so cold-
and continues to unfold,
and though I am now told-
resentment stays uncontrolled.
For as a child, I was undersold;
to keep it brief-
this soon came to be my belief;
that I was in no way unique-
and affection, unable to receive,
a thought, that still aggrieves-
everything inside of me.
Bare skull and cross bones
existence on the peripheral
outskirts of poker flats
lives a slip of a man,
whereat he never felt deserving
accolades linkedin
with appeasement,
sans pat on back congrats,
asper bringing peace,
and tranquility to the
kingdom taken over
by trumpeting democrats,
without any armed
populace resorting,
(nor police present)
affecting a coup d'etat
(carried out
by military expats),
no...amazingly enough,
non violent government
takeover won by votes
during midterm elections,
who rendered
the equivalent outcome
(actually a stunt
more difficult)
than analogously bringing
rabbits out of hats,
which predominant number
of socially progressive winners
shared the sir name "Katz"
ironic since such
ethical congressional
"Freshman" hoped to scare
out all the corrupt rats
and, thus hit upon,
(or one newly elected
acolyte dreamt) master bait,
which involved one participant
to experience potentially
a stormy Dane yell'n date,
thus unnamed
wizard (specializing
in far out, and groovy
grandiose high jinks fate
hood did don an outfit
resembling the Great
Tony the Tiger, no matter,
he reputedly happened
tubby a serial killer,
yet said Grand
Poobah did integrate
each puzzle piece
of his Khanate
with a combination of
bluster, gimcrackery
cheap tricks deceit,
"FAKE" hate
as to snatch the checkered mate,
(essentially a hie
bred Matted Scottish
tartan Harris tweed
couture rib banned jester,
who didst orchestrate)
so much tom foolery, his
basic winning technique
quite antic quate
head, nonetheless
far more ingenious than
latest technological state
of the art revolutionary
trappings, thus never
outmoded ways underrate!
She cast out her net
The sweet fruit made her forget….
Her harvest to get