A patch of lichen I picked up
and then into my hand did cup.
The frills and shadows, in and out -
Finest fabric, without doubt.
Lacy lichen on my wrist -
Sweeter cuff does not exist.
The cool and smooth feel on my skin
I want to feel again, again.
If a bush sprite I could be
I think I would be more like me.
I still hear the loud noise
of your quiet footsteps,
marked across unpolished,
weathered wooden floors.
Childhood suppressed expectations,
starved for genuine praise,
dwarfed by the presence
of a silence never broken.
My inner struggles suffocate,
captivated by the hidden door
latched forever
by decaying, hardened paint.
Scars of turmoil refuse to yield,
mercilessly triggered by this prison,
locked by the one key
still held by you.
A stitched fabric of fortitude—
resembling a carved brand of honor—
is the silent hero I grasp for
in moments of aching defiance.
When the weight of unimportance,
and callous neglect,
rears its ugly head,
demanding more
than my essence can endure.
Still, here I am.
Not asking for forgiveness.
Not asking for explanations.
I am letting go,
just like you did.
Warmth spreads like sunshine on frosted stone,
wanes within the unsolicited kindness seeds sown.
Wounds sewed with strings torn from fabric of care,
carrying quiet scars unsaught empathy bounties bear.
At times the seams unravel
But I know I'm not addle
Someone else pulled the thread
Now I have much to dread
Watch existence burn; see vermilion flames flicker in my eyes
Whilst you stand amongst the ashes and bones of what was never meant to be.
Inhale the murky smoke of contempt,
Choke on particles formed from your contrition.
Feel the accelerating heat scorch distressed flesh.
Quiet—lest my demons hear you scream.
Perched, waiting to devour
A soul so frigid, frostbite seeps from your stagnant veins.
Mercy is nowhere to be found.
Hysterical laughter escapes from my broken lips
As you writhe in pain, trying to escape.
Vines of razor-wire belladonna barricade;
The hunter is now wholly ensnared.
Visions of the past materialize like static,
Disrupting the penultimate bits of your sanity.
Microscopic questions flow rapidly:
Is this version of reality just a delusion,
Disrupting the very fabric of time?
Or are you suffering for your incompetence?
The smell of sulphur grows stronger with each thought.
Through melting breezes, the Pied Piper plays
Such sweet music—wrath’s revenge.
The Devil’s Inferno is calling you home.
As a part of life,
there are things
You may learn to accept without understanding,
and understand without accepting.
They exist, woven into the fabric of life.
You made peace with their presence,
whether through acceptance or comprehension.
But not through conviction.
For conviction demands both:
acceptances and to understanding,
not as a compromise,
but as absolutes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
rough, wooly cloth
sewn from earthy threads, entwined
comfort in autumn chill
woven for the biting wind
thick, elbow-patched
anchors scholars to their desks
breathes of peat-smoke and ink
heather trapped in warp and weft
As the days pass, so does our youth,
but memories that were made
have been like a treasure trove of jewels
that have been sewn into our soul,
hidden away and treasured.
Intertwined but the thread loosens.
Do you still feel connected?
Drifting slowly into pieces.
Fabric shredded, work of art.
Seams untangle in the start.
Have you not felt this?
Turning twisted opposite directions.
Fragmented linen, holes unsightly.
This dreary separation strikes nightly.
Can you save this?
Complacent attire, routine rags.
Still my favorite sweater.
Thank you, India!
Thanks for your skill with fabric.
Thanks for your looms of magic.
For centuries in our World,
Your cotton threads were firmly twirled.
Thanks for clothes that keep us warm,
That help save us from the storm,
But there is one swatch that brings me joy.
Hail to that awesome wonder,
Beautiful, beautiful corduroy.
Thank you.
a life so quickly passes
one blink and we can barely comprehend
~ the cycle in perpetual motion
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Broad-Cast Fabric
Weeds Flower And Seed
With The Same Innate
Needs As All Desperate
Seek Some Survival.
They Have No Word,
No Sanctuary, No
Desire For Hatred.
Not Like Humans
Who Will Hate Just
To Hurt…
For The
Name.
-Gray Squirrel
07-10-2025
Do not be quick to cut velvet
It costs a hundred dollars a yard now
All the pieces must be pinned in the same direction
There is waste, but your efforts will be rewarded.
You do not want to construct a catastrophe
Do not put velvet in the washing machine either
She must be dry-cleaned
Velvet must be heeded and revered.
Stars spangle this verse,
Fabric-love's universe,
Love so unilateral,
Dude still loves this gal,
Magic continues for us,
Flickers, love needs no fuss,
We're abstracts, we rhyme,
Cosmic lovebirds for all time....
Life is what you make it
findingg a purpose and what you enjoy to do
cherish time, life is a fabric you can knit
Life is what you make it
Hold onto humor and maintain wit
Keep your mind as clear sky, blue
Life is what you make it
cherish time, life is a fabric you can knit
Heidi Sands
4/28/24
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