Hands that perform tasks,
creative exercise of creating...
Feet that walk firmly
in the fruitful movement of walking...
Rain that falls generously
in the blessed gift of watering...
The wind blows that blows beneficently...
benign work of blowing!
Sleeps the night... healing sleeps,
inspiring epiphany in dreaming...
Goats skip,
healthy vibrant revelry...
Children are enlightened by playing
holy craft of educating,
Men should only love,
divine and pleasurable mission... in God to live
as craftsmen of love in life...
eternal, millennial life!
Categories:
craftwork, allusion, analogy, extended metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Iridescent bubbles, in my sleep, I see
a mishmash of things: some dear to me,
some odd - mind's subtle hues gleam,
a hodgepodge they seem;
Aw! in my
dream
I see sky
with two suns and stream -
baffling scenes, mismatch, I deem;
Still, I love my mind's craftwork, I glee,
iridescent bubbles, in my sleep, I see
Date: 01/22/2023
Writing Challenge - Andaree Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
craftwork, dream,
Form: Rhyme
Under a trellis of vines, quite evergreen
This elegant, old lady sits on a wooden porch,
Her veined fingers twist in graceful motion
Kneading hued threads from silken yarn;
As weaves of cross-stitch unfurl through dusk :
How in gentle calm, a floral pattern expands
Thickening its pattern through intricate craftwork ...
I watch grandmother extend those elbows
To connect the dots while loops of artistry
Begin to take shape, her eyes glimmering
Upon moonlit wind: I cuddle this kerchief, now
A prized token of her bridal gift...my heirloom.
.....................
~ New Poem ~ 2/28/2019
Cross Contest of Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
craftwork, art, dedication,
Form: Free verse
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust
Polished now in the hallway, my fond antique
Recalling Grandaunt’s delicate craftwork--
Each pattern of fabric threaded with zest,
As her hands would bounce around pinpoint needles,
Weaving an array of doilies rugs garments
Intently absorbed in a foot pedal’s rhythm
That her hums trailed beyond Nam’s bombings :
The war years seemed like only yesterday,
Calming her through spindles of moon’s quick cycle .
Along each evening’s gloss, we rollicked laughed
Exchanging banters like friends… till she crossed over :
Tonight, I gently pat her own quilt laying on my bedside,
Lining our decades of sweet remembrances…
For a moment, my eyes gazed at stars’ fading wicker,
The candle sputtered, spent, and all was dark.
Viv Wigley’s Contest: One nine and sixteen
Written 5/1/2018
Categories:
craftwork, memory,
Form: Dramatic Verse