Best Woven Poems

Silent journey
I ride with you O Mother Earth
On the wings of time and space
I feel you cradle me in your arms
Lifting me high above you
To feel the kiss of your wind
..... and the warmth of your sun


A flicker of light and I am
Surfing the tips...

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A feeling of nearness to suffering
In our hearts
While we reduce the dimensions
Of the essence of light
With our eyes
In a local scuffle
Them
They have woven a net around us.
Bearing the pains of life
While watching the people with sullen faces
And tired thoughts
All along the years
We have heard the...

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She finds the pink planet, musing Alice Liddell's Imagination is the only weapon in war with reality.  Sky's canvas, brushed cotton candy clouds where marshmallow mountains peak and the seventh sun rides low 'til the man in the moon awakens. White light and red,...

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Chilled nights anxiously swept away
holding hope as daunting eyes dance alone

brushed strokes of silence escape
hearts flutter in anticipation  words
aloft  floating on solemn wings
indulging in  free flight fantasy
amongst where angels do sing

pressed parchment lain longs to be
read    under mysterious glow
radiant...

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Beneath the fury of sun
Wades a wobbly nun
Stomping on thorns
Her soul burnt and torn

Scars on her skin
Carried wounds engraved
Trust, her sin
So were snakes she once craved

She sucked and spitted
Bouts of venom from her blood
Tainted by flood
Of emotions she once knitted

Silence crept loud
In the woods still...

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Woven in Silk Threads of Love
(Apropos Us and the Children)

Time tested love, bruised
and battered,
lay like littered crystals
on the steel plate stage of life;
dismembered and crumbled
like a stale cookie
whose particles 
have lost
their electromagnetic-like
attractiveness.

Ingredients of envious spice
inhibits any and all adhesiveness—
that tough threading  love folds and...

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Timeless abiding -
Moments of silky threads hold-
Our hearts in one string 


Inspired by Raul’s “Sentiments of the heart contest”!...

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Bathing in the afterglow of sunset,
nature’s inflorescence meadows charm tread.
Sprays of flowers for my woven basket.

Gleam before the blooms fade and all forget.
Lavender, Daffodil, Take Me Instead!
Bathing in the afterglow of sunset.

Balm Jasmine, Hyacinth, Granny’s Bonnet,
slightest glow of early morning love shed.
Sprays of flowers for...

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The strewn spider webs,
Thread the needles of the pines:
Tapestry of trees....

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Under a thatch of welded grasses
Beneath the sentry trees and singing birds
A seven decade muse sits on a naked earth
Drunk by the tunes of choir birds
Creativity invades her weary veins
As she strokes the grassy strips
Expertise emits from her ridged visage
Her keen eyes chant the incantation...

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I'd rather have the wings of a lark,
sing the word love woven on the heart;
feel a lover's sweetness
by kissing eager lips... 
to ignite true passion from a spark!...

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The fabric of love woven,
And wrapped ...
Torn to shreds.

Thread by thread emotions;
Spill words tumble cascade, 
- in my breathless orgasmic;
Grasping ...

The essence wrenched out of beauty ... 
- it's substance rendered futile,
Unwillingly reconstructed,
Reworked unrecognisable.

Crevass screaming ... 
Companion to loss ...
Hope, burning,
Burnt, burned.

Ashes scattered smudge grey;
Rainbow's...

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There he is shedding his broken sin
kissing the red woven lips
that brought him here
where love is painting
that's where he has been........

For a moment he fears that this is the end
there she is standing in her white lace 
and her top most pearls
her tender hand brushes...

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.........******........


we sit for hours with dawn’s traces rising and falling
how deftly lamps and whispers sustain twin hearts laughing
no need to ramble on long paraphrases ever fluttering
for if stretches of silence gather breath’s shared understanding
…it’s because we were best friends before time’s blessed awakening


  ...

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Persuaded by time,
and clothed in rust,  trees reveal
a changed homecoming...
The illusions of my youth
drift away with falling leaves

My eyes search for him,
although my heart knows better
Old fences need paint,
Scabs of white shed like feathers
from the dry and weathered rails

There, by the back door
his old...

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