Mama pulled out the old pine loom she said her grandfather crafted, next she opened the lid to the hinge-creaking time-worn garment trunk filled with vintage gingham dresses of cotton & wool clinging to colorful memories that shaped us today. "Grandma worked hard as a young mother in these dresses she made" Mama said, "now we're going to make kitchen rugs on the same pine-loom my grandfather built to honor their memory " pieces of each dress will stich the passage of time, but we'll hang them on the wall for future generations to admire and remind. Some pieces bore stains from a life well-lived, vegetable dyes, colorful store-bought yarns of wool and cotton all created with toil of her nimble fingers, "if they could talk, the stories they'd tell!" mama said. Generations have passed indeed, a few rugs remain, some were given as gifts to family members through the years , I'm a grandma now, with memories to share.
September
2025
Feathery white lines
cotton wool stretched across thin
folding and rolling
I wonder what clouds think
when we down here
looking up at them
say
with surprise and wonder
that they look like something else
a face maybe
or a horse
a tree
a ship
a cup and saucer
or a great big wad of cotton-wool
never
that I am aware of
when looking up at the clouds
have I heard anyone say
“Wow, look at that cloud
it looks just like a cloud”
THIS QUILT
This quilt a kaleidoscope of
corduroy colours
a struggle to even
out lucid lovers
cotton wool lies in
bumpity flats
I unravel thread
just like that cat !
Stitches are too loose or tight
corners say alright, so blight
while mantras race in light
“THE GRACE OF
IMPERFECTION TIGHT ” !
So like my country of carnivals
which takes too long in its winter
silent squares want to sing
songs of black swans to bring
Quilt quiet queenly comely !
Can I commence a new project ?
another challenging
lesson to learn
fingers ache sore
sessions to earn
this quilt into deep
sheep sleep
forlorn, forlorn
I dream of yellow
corn !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2016
On summer grass
freshly cut
I lay relaxing looking up at the
subtle slovenly shape shifter
floating above
It steals my mind
and the world disappears
slowly changing
sneaking by
forming frothy bubbles
Candy floss fluff
A carving of mashed potato
Animals and faces
high in the sky
A shaping of marshmallow
Pillows and cushions
Cotton wool art
A squirting of cream
suspended in the air
Buoyant bundles of sheep's wool
and sculptured polystyrene
Light airy sponge cake
hovering high, hanging
as I escape from my life
to nature's creation in the sky
Light white clouds
It is instinctive,
No parent can help it,
If cotton wool is in the house,
A parent will find it.
When single we don't see a need for it,
But as soon as that little bundle of joy arrives,
It is added to the must have list.
It has caused many a marriage to self-destruct,
And should only be used as directed,
Preferably by a maiden Aunt,
Or understanding grandparents,
Who were brought up on a farm.
Of course there are dangers to protect children from,
But sooner or later the real world beckons.
Preparing them to live in it requires less cotton Wool,
And more risk management teaching.
But before you throw out all the cotton wool,
Experts agree that it may be,
The only thing to keep them safe,
From Danger in the virtual world.
All blazing hues throwing ochery golden gowns
Under azure blues with fluffy cotton wool clouds
Temperatures in dip feeling two seasons in meld
Undulations shape shift teasing ones naked eye
Momentary captures seeing wildlife amidst such
Natures many blooms rich giving's Midas touch
Autumnal she is displaying talents of no bounds
Lasting impressions, season's, differences found
Cotton wool puffs that are up so high,
Drifting along in a clear blue sky,
A field of wheat waving just like the sea,
To see these things shows how beautiful the world can be.
A gurgling stream that goes rushing by,
A baby bird that's learning to fly,
All of these things bring a happy cheer,
And tell everyone, summer is here.
Drizzling, dazzling
splinters of diamond
Shards of crystal
or liquidized glass!
Transparent drops
from a translucent sky.
Ooh, that lucid lustre:
No wonder they say,
there's something sexy about the rain
Atleast it does seem to drive
dripping lovers insane.
And then as if frenzied, suddenly excited
the drizzle converts into a heavy downpour
as thunders bellow and thunders roar
as rivers swell and rivers soar.
Rain battering our rooftop
like needless war drums
or heedless bass drums
The heavens having opened
to announce a cloud burst
Till it's said to be raining cats and dogs
or more realistically, fishes and frogs!
O' God bless the nimbus
Those soaking cotton wool puffs in the sky
Those candy floss rainclouds sailing by.
Indelible link to a bygone event,
one clutches with foolproof recall,
of cerulean cloud-ridden sky,
on that pivotal day I penned my first opus,
I strolled at a leisurely pace,
down this charming but tangled green lane,
that would later perturb the gist of my tract,
uncanny those sun-streak formations,
sinuous transient rich-coloured sequence,
each passing cloud had this mammoth offshoot,
kaleidoscope medium hue snatch,
wild spur to psychic pictorial harvest,
downward plod seemed so apt as a title,
perky whisper from cotton wool sweep,
had its dawn in thin veil mists,
I zestfully scribbled each thought,
without stick, hum and haw, tribulation,
prickly hedge, blue fly drone, rambling briar,
found their unforeseen Orphic voodoo,
fervent stanza and spiral quicksand,
spooky banshee air wail raucous thriller,
to spore shedding fern, somber ripple or dash,
tangy vapour guide rails afterglow,
drop by drop float on satin rim fleece,
and so my first plot was conceived,
at the whim of a noonday cloud
wind-moles have tunneled
through the daffodil rings
stems are broken
yellow bells and trumpets
fly in a mute sky
the third month
is a wayward despoiler
it stomps on the newly come
the strong survive and persist
until the lion yawns
temporarily bored with its play
one fine day
mild doe-eyed visitors
meander among cotton wool clouds
the lion dreams in his sleep
the next day arrives as his nightmare
here in the havens it is a time for tornados
the earth is burgeoning
greening so tenderly
a perilous time
if the new born shoots
if the new birthed and cradled
escape all the runaway winds
the lion my at last
lay down with the lambs
to guard them
from its own hungers
Filaments of white creep imperceptibly across an innocently blue sky, like hopeful mycelial tendrils feeling tentatively into their embracing surroundings.
Petite tufts of lightly dirtied cotton wool float affably by, unnoticing.
The movement of passing birds is seemingly transformed in this sun, from the previous days of grey.
Small flocks of good mood frolic on the wind as the sunlight briefly catches on their speckled iridescence. While more modest individuals flit their cheerful glow across the world in equal lustre.
Song and chatter dance in the air like sweet butterflies of sound.
And ripening autumn leaves whisper their delight in an occasional mild atmosphereal caress.
MAY I COME IN?
If you would let me come into your life
I wouldn’t make a mess
I’d close the door quietly, take off my shoes
and tiptoe through your feelings
If you would lend me your heart
I wouldn’t break it
I’d wrap it in cotton wool and
protect it from everything
except my love
If you would let me share your world
I wouldn’t be greedy
It would still be your world and all I’d want
is a little corner
If you would let me be your future
I wouldn’t fail you
Through thick and thin I’d always be there
for you to lean on
If you would have my baby
I wouldn’t run away
I’d cherish it and love it and later I’d teach it
all that a child needs to know
Please let me come into your life
I won’t make a mess
25th January 2023
For Love's Sake Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Regina McIntosh
Bestow on me an incorrect
3 leafed clover ephigy of
buttercup due early spring May
With I meandering through a maze
of cotton wool field lost
Trying best to avert the gaze of
the virile bull's with Horn's poised
Whilst listening to the joy of piercing
ringing mandolin string's and trooping
drum's in both left and right ear's on
my head
Eminating from the Yee Grand Old
Antebellum Plantation guard house
Adorned with a lushious overhanging
archway on either side of it's giant's
causeway
If you dare imagine with Jacaranda Blue
and Cherry blossom infused on a sunset
pink hue nude muse
Instantaneously ushering forth a vision
of Scarlett O'Hara vivacious locks
Gone with the wind like a kite upon a
hazy shimmering warm summer up draft
Augusta Georgia R.E.M night-swimming
aftermath
A blanket of softness on the ground, icing sugar coated gardens
Rolling undulations of white, cotton wool covers all as far as I can see
The earth hidden suddenly anonymous, a quick made secret world, it pulled up this blanket
It’s face hidden for a while, letting this downy layer take hold, protecting, nurturing, sheltering
The doors burst open, children and dog rush to great the white world, with havoc, glee, such fun
Fountains of snow lifted to the sky,
Balls of white propelled through the air to hit another with a splash
We are all showered with this fluff, these flakes,
The chase is on, circles, dodging, weaving but to no avail
The beauty of the white garden becomes a beauty of children shaped sculptures
Where they lay in the white, dog racing around, a scene of comedy, hilarity
And as the action slows and post snow exhaustion sets in
A mother runs out and the fight renews
No mercy is shown until we all collapse in a snow coated heap
And it begins to snow once more
2009
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