Best Textiles Poems
Serging through life, I whipstitch, weft, and welt,
But always, my thoughts are pick-threading.
As stippled patches of emotion rise and fall in me,
See me, feel me, touch me, heal me
Just too many scars.
The mindless mind stresses itself through mental snares,
I waste away beneath it all, piecing and pondering.
Where the struggling soul and pleating body meet,
I seek significance in life’s lucid-lined layers.
Confronting my inner fears as an owneress,
Time leaves its cursed mark in starched stitches that cut.
Each moment experienced is like a closing zipper,
My calm exterior ridges are often rough, ready, and ruffled.
A life full of scars.
While unique experiences blend like transient ombre shades
My essence feels like a needled complex knit.
Memories form patterns from life’s four-patches
Challenges scissors cut are like shredded sharp diamonds.
Yet more paths diverge along life’s shifting chevrons
I strive to fit somehow; this square is what I do.
Yet my world stands out like tri-recs blocks
Creating stars and pineapples to fight fifty-four forty.
Scars that are hidden and visible, surface and deep.
Like trapezoids, I sense those oblong obstacles loom
Worth or less by my own limited gauge, I measure.
I pray each day new chapters begin casting on
While others exhaust, reaching their bind-offs.
I do seek a pattern master, and I need to pray for one.
I contemplate constantly along selvages of thoughts.
They hang like dangling tails…
I start to visualize my purpose slowly seaming.
Look as I whipstitch, weft, and welt through life, serging.
As I graciously and sagaciously test life’s many swatches,
I devote my life to the Master Seamster the…
Healer of scars.
Categories:
textiles, emotions, faith, philosophy, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
Magnetic attraction, enchanting dream of a lifetime -
majestic pyramid attracts my eye,
mystique draws me in
O, your architecture! Pavilions, colonnades; art enclosing art,
every square inch deliberately designed,
ceilings pour forth scintillating splendor
Antiquities from Rome, Egypt, the Orient:
trying to wrap my head around art
created in Mesopotamia 6,000 years ago
Dazed and captivated in your Greek sculpture hall:
Bronze beauty, marble magnificence,
Venus de Milo seduces still
What history you have archived on your walls and pedestals!
Charlemagne holding his scepter,
Louis XIV in regal resplendence
Oil on canvas communicates genuine genius
Rembrandt, Rubens, Raphael,
Vermeer, Van Dyck, Vigée-Lebrun
Mythology awakened to life in marble:
Hera, Hermaphrodite, Neptune, Nymph,
Psyche and Cupid
Even commoners respectfully regarded:
Messina's military man, Brueghel's beggars,
Michelangelo's dying slave
Centuries of religious faith expressed with grace and grandeur:
Moses in the bulrushes, Islamic ivory,
the penitent Magdalene, Virgin and child
Artistic vision reflects and redirects history:
Renaissance masters forecasting the future,
Monet's Impressionism a daring new style
Fifteen minutes till closing, where have the hours flown?
What of tapestries, textiles, drawings, decorative arts?
Alas, another day.
Highlight of the day, world's most famous painting:
mysterious Mona Lisa smile
thanks me for coming to visit
Louvre:
timeless testimony to artistic aesthetic
cathedral of contemplation
history of humanity
Written 15 Sep 2020
Categories:
textiles, art, paris, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Frolicking minds under benevolent skies
Set into motion spectacular emotions
Painting orange hues on silken textiles
As lovers embark on a path to paradise
Horizon bends listening to ocean tidings
Emanating from voices of rippling images
When twilight beams refract under water
Echoing messages of enchanting dreams
Hearing urgent call of resonant hearts
Birds organize display of intricate charm
Saluting the promise of ardent evening
Flying in unison with articulate response
Fervent vibes awaken to love's divinity
Surrendering to onset of sensual feelings
Rejoicing a kiss amid wordless dialogue
Holding each other in a reveling trance
Hearing heart to heart rhythmic romance
Urging love to advance amorous stance
Parting sun twinkles a retreating glance
As pier dims silently in each other's arms
Receiving a signal from supernal promise
Two souls merge heeding destiny's advice
Captivated by sentiments of eternal bliss
Excited to explore what heaven feels like
March 25, 2018
Picture this contest by Joseph May
Image 3
Placed 3rd
Categories:
textiles, love, romance, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
They made mammon somethng measurable, mighty, & magnificent,
everywhere that labor, exchange, & entertainment exist monuments
to money, large and small,
the genesis was excess manufacture
such as grain, gold, textiles & ceramics,
animals & people,
purveyors were born like corn on the cobb,
like mist in morning,
buearruacracies of religion & government emerged from the basic business
of buy & sell, structure was supplied by law & covetuousness,
the greed of need,
people enticed to sell their Spirit in the form of toil for products,
eventually for fiat currencies, profit took the place of contribution,
slavery evolved into serfdom,
from the plantation to the factory unproductive owners needed managers,
individuals with minimal compassion & maximum ambition, essence extractors,
the whip replaced by the 'write up' and tacit threat of poverty,
the iron chain supplanted by hopelessness of ignorance in limited training,dependency,
management believed in synergy,the kind that rewarded the few
at the expense of the many,
the river of Life tore into the irrigation of wealth for selected heredity,
bussinessmen want employees & citizens with low self esteem, shallow interests & passions,
economy as cosmos, profits as pieties, workers as sinners,
edicts of 'minimum wage' and requirements for age are simply Market stabilizers
implemented to ensure profit,
taxes a financial plan of slave paid for regulation,
the management caste, the sociological strata designed to keep laborors feeling underachieving,
crows squawking against crows so that dragons fly free -
J.A.B.
Categories:
textiles, education,
Form:
Didactic
Alphonse Mucha's art was so influential it helped create Art Nouveau.
A flamboyant sensuous style, with softness, swirls, curls and beauty.
It heralded and celebrated new art as a counterpoint
to the dawn of the harsh steel and smoke of the industrial revolution.
Inspiring the unique creations of architect Antoni Gaudí,
Sowing the seeds for another revolution in style - the Art Deco movement.
Mucha's style and grace in posters and art works truly showcased aesthetic vales
a flagrant appreciation of beauty, style and good taste.
It celebrated women, portrayed in flowing robes and curvaceous, poised with lush flowers in their hair.
There were halos, crescents, swirls and lots of flowers in the background.
The Art Nouveau movement embraced all forms of art and design
incorporating the swirls and curves of Mucha's paintings and posters including:
architecture, furniture, glassware, graphic design, jewelry, painting, pottery,
metalwork, textiles, advertisements, even appearing on Czechoslovakia's currency notes.
Alphonse Mucha's art and design are truly beautiful and inspirational.
Categories:
textiles, art,
Form:
Prose Poetry
People who are addicted to texting are textiles.
Ever have lunch with a textile?
You find yourself looking at the top of the textile's head...
more than their eyes...
Every so often they look your way, cross-eyed.
Head bobbing (like a baby bird searching for its mothers' mouth),
Chirping vague words to catch up to the one-sided conversation.
but they never do catch up.
Their food sits in front of them half eaten.
When It's-time to leave they allow you to lead the way..
(be their seeing eye dog).
Because they're texting while walking.
They stagger to their car, you say goodbye to the top of the textile's head.
They grunt something incoherent.
As you pull away you see the textile slumped over
looking down at their pleasure box.
Under your breath you mutter,
I pray they make it home alive.
Categories:
textiles, absence, addiction, anger, humor,
Form:
Narrative
O Serenissima,*fabled city
guarding the bluest lagoon, remain
the Queen of the Adriatic Sea;
on a gondola I glide while
the gondolier sings to luminous stars.
Under bridges of moonlight,
mysteries increase by the dozen;
standing on the Bridge Of Sighs,
a fair-haired girl leans forward
blowing kisses to a gorgeous boy
who stops and smiles back tenderly.
On the topmast he awaits early daylight,
unfurled sails excite his spirit never
fraught. He looks back for a last time,
surroundings whet his curiosity;
behind him stand buildings of break
and stone that have endured time's fury.
The eastern sun comes up slowly,
he rubs his moist eyes and sighs;
his tall ship is ready to depart
for lands rich of exotic spices;
they will be traded for linen
textiles and beautiful glassware.
Months will pass, probably years,
a wrinkle or two will appear
on his sun-tanned forehead
beneath his fluttering red velvet hat;
he will think of Venice before sleep-
the sublime dream of a wealthy merchant.
* Serenissima: The most serene
Categories:
textiles, blue, city, dream, history,
Form:
Free verse
Ripe, fresh, new and tender are names she should bear.
I am 17, she’s 16, both alone and innocent
in a partially illuminated room.
She possesses while seated,
expanding hips, lines of fleshy diversions,
small dark shadows and shades of secrecy- what a bodily landscape!
Crossed and well catered thighs, partly covered by a mini
the fatal bullets of lust are triggered by this tempting feminine shape.
Pumping emotions, just flowing like rolls of textiles
so lengthy that it cannot be measured by any tape.
Changing sitting position causes a flash of her underwear,
stimulating powerful focus like a longing ape.
And rapid chemistry-change from the signals of my sight,
produces great salivation already tasting like grape.
The heat of the moment fights morality and ego
with a telegram in the mind centered on rape.
But my reputation has already gone into oblivion
so what’s left of my honour, I’ll not scrape.
Categories:
textiles, abuse, age, anti bullying,
Form:
Epic
When wrinkles settle in the skin
There's not much you can do,
For even Botox rarely makes
Your skin look smooth and new.
But when your clothes or tablecloths
Get wrinkled from the dryer,
An iron helps to make them look
Like textiles to admire.
If I've a choice or wrinkly
Or not, right off the bat,
I'll tell you I like irony -
No irony in that!
Categories:
textiles, clothes, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Spindled Mettle
Hour upon hour she sits thoughtfully absorbed
spinning attentively conception’s fibers
while creating new textures within her mind…
As grain, by grain of living sand, erodes the weaves
exposing gently or tearing the woven seams…
following the hourglass count to maturing age
Set aside are the frivolous dolls of youthful cloths
as situations lead to realities bolder textiles…
some strands chosen, others forced upon life’s spindle
Her mettle*, though moved by spindled occurrences,
is worn quietly with the era of wisdoms’ mantle
as intertwined events live within her fabric structure
Written by: Debra Squyres 2/19/13
For: “Objectify Me”
*mettle: spirited determination, mental and emotional character unique to an individual person
Categories:
textiles, growing up, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Swastika
Author: fjamesj9701
The peace your arms once moved humanity and grace
Of luck and prosperity now echoes through nightmares and disgrace
For thousands of years you reperesnted so many cultures
Until propaganda branded you into an image of slaughter
You were sealed on the coin in the Great City of Troy
Adorned Indian textiles and spoken throuh Buddhist voice
Worn proudly on the sleeves of Americans during the first war
Even badged on a Boy Scouts until hitler made you a whore
The symbolism of the four cardinal directions
have they too lost their ways
Memories as old as ancient lost in time and misplaced
To you well being was to translate from svasti
Idolized by so many wanna be ignorant nazis
Genocide is your agenda but wipe that stupid look from your face
As you now know your tattooed not by your hero but a tan and yellow race
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Categories:
textiles, history, lost, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Patients in and out within the backdrop of muted rose walls, blue carpet,
dark wood and purple plaid textiles. As faces changed, colors clashed.
One young girl wore scarlet shoestrings and a gold skirt topped by a
fuchsia tee. Nurses passed quickly back and forth, wearing deep plum
and teal with neon purple latex gloves; Van Gogh in motion. Names
called out, processing a human throng in a sterile environment. Seats
for sixteen. Each one waited . . .feet tap, tap, tapping; magazine pages
flipped before un-focused eyes. A TV blared. Cups of bitter brew—held
in lifeless hands—grew cold and bitter.
Bill's name was called. I stood up. His doctor smiled, "He did great," he
said, and led me into a small room. He explained details of the procedure
and handed me an enlarged color photo, a glossy print depicting surgery.
As I stared at my husband's insides, he said, "This is for your family album."
Categories:
textiles, husband, imagery, sick,
Form:
Prose
Splintering away from all that matters
Burdens of trust shred my brain to tatters
Gratitude infects while I glimpse your face
Hurdles abound to perk my apathy
Until I'm stung by that buzzing wrath bee
Bold cup full of bliss I plan to displace
My feet get caught in those rungs as I climb
Nucleotides stripped of that chaste enzyme
Past disappointments can't help me prepare
Lost at the apex with toys I so vex
My conquistador binds savage Aztecs
I long to toss you ten feet in the air
Pinning the blame proves a pungent hassle
Who will fortify my Pavlov castle?
You share unique ways of making me drool
Pernicious force bundles cellular strife
Killing diseases by twisting the knife
I scarf your smirk like a ravenous fool
Herded again toward these lonely stations
Scraping away those stagnant vibrations
Tooting my horn at your departing train
Spread on the ground like a picnic blanket
Psyche bends over so I can spank it
My legs severed from sympathetic pain
Crawling on stumps to chase down python goals
I've tripped through blockades as well as potholes
All these structures keep on breaking away
Marching bands gather as I amble by
Compelled to follow, yet they don't know why
Amoeba hungers are forcing their sway
Like Moses on pavement, I drive my quest
Bilking those theories I'd rather divest
For sanity pines feebly without you
I journey these miles in tattered textiles
While my head compiles a scheme that beguiles
Until breaking through my doom shall accrue
Categories:
textiles, allegory, fantasy, imaginationme,
Form:
Lyric
Love is in the air
I can smell love on flowers
I can see love in the rays that the sun shines on the earth
I find love when standing on top of the highest mountain
Love is in the air
All around me I am surrounded by love
And I wouldn’t trade the feeling for a moment
I feel love when drinking coffee
I feel love when drinking tea
I feel love when going for a run and feeling the wind on my face
Love is in the air
And it’s such a magical feeling
I feel love when boxing. There’s no better feeling then throwing punches
I feel love when creating art through textiles and panting
I feel love when baking up a storm
I feel love when listening to music
Love is in the air
And I wouldn’t trade the feeling for a moment
Categories:
textiles, love,
Form:
Free verse
I remember the silhouette
From her stares and gestures
How they gracefully slithered
Through minds and seasons
The silk in her demeanor
How it sucked un-weaved roughage
And tilted edges of dispositions
Until moments stood firm
She only had one niddle of hope
With locally done emotional textiles
She could have lived forever
If only her hands were bare
She could have sewn garments
With royal threads
Quilts for loyal beds
Where comrades built trust, love
She could have lived forever
If only her hands were bare
Tango with stubborn winds
There is no shore to kill the vibe
The ostrich won’t pitch on shores
There is no sand to bury its head
She could have lived forever
If only her lake was pregnant with sand
Mirrors on walls of her soul
Are romancing with the image of her sores
The silhouettes are too guilty
To cover her nakedness
Truth has too much scheme in its teeth
To exonerate her
Pieces of scattered words
With sharp points like broken glass
Will penetrate the skin of her life
As she kneels for a moment of grace
Maybe, just maybe
She might live forever
Categories:
textiles, conflict,
Form:
Acrostic