I collect antique embroidery pattern
a handiwork through generations
On yellowed paper
with a few tears and edge wear
A project I pick up when time is quiet
each stitch for relaxation
Grandma’s pattern renewed
- embroidered in monochrome blue
. isn't easy.
Two of mine mated.
The one with turquoise, metal, and varrious stones
and colors, and metal;
one with every letter
in the alphabet.
Free verse is fun,
when you know what you want to saw,
and you experience something fun,
meaningful, or humorous
that you want to share.
My husband will be home in ten
minutes with white wine.
He is tired of all my poems.
I will keep this one short.
Poverty doesn't suck.
A serious life does.
Don't stay indoors this spring.
Pull the petals off a branch
and run home with a fistful
of life.
©
Your coffee is ready
What else can I do?
Stay in bed sweetheart
I'll bring it to you
It's just how you like it
The way I know of
For all that I make for you's
Handmade with love
A bible stand stood verily high -
these words won’t die.
Central pages of art.
Grandma’s Jesus would give me a heart.
1/7/2020
Clerihew Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
To My Sweet Sister Whom I Love Dearly
May your day be filled with healing and hope,
during this difficult time, must learn to cope-
See the majesty in the sky when loss prevails,
and find the shore when sea storm impales.
I wear empathy for you this struggling day,
my only wish is to take your pain away-
I pray for you and your anguish too deep,
may your prayers ease you as you sleep.
Thinking of you TODAY, ALWAYS and FOREVER
~I LOVE YOU~
With all my love and sympathy,
Me
________________________________________
I chose 'sympathy'
Date - 2.18.20
Occasional Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS
(poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).
How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.
Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.
Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.
I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.
9/23/16
Some crazed
And some well behaved
People and animals stayed
And others strayed
Below the soil traces of clay
Beautiful rocks like jade
And above it useful plants such as sage
Items out on display
Others locked up and put away
Things handmade
Or by machinery in a factory everyday
Roads and paths gradual or with a steep grade
Not all of which have been paved
Dug with a spade
Take care of your tools, the slower they'll degrade
During this day and age
Things so bizarre, it's no longer strange
To see what one would do for the fame
Or a financial gain
Locations and terrains
Remained
Exactly the same
Or had changed
Evidence attained
Or lost in the rains
And down the drains
After a strain
Too many want to complain
And on another they try to place the blame
What a shame
People not using their brain
The choices they make, only they can explain
Swarmed by choral tunes of early birds,
Her hands mold curves into shape, touched by love
While fluid eyes hum as bands entwine.
Till weeks alight requesting for night’s quiet rest,
Yet mornings lift palms on the same shade
Pinning tiny beads embossed like rows of wreaths
Crocheted strips finally twirl in dainty pattern
The perfect mingling of straws looped in elegance;
Finally, the night before a most special ceremony
When aisles of the church prepare my young walk,
Grandma smiles tearily and hands me...
My first woven flower-girl basket.
'''' '''''''''''''
* I was told that Grandma lost her interest
in weaving when she cut her palms. After 5 years,
she began crafting when she found out I was the only
flower-girl to his son's wedding ( my uncle).
Contest: Kim Morrison's True Story
by nette onclaud
As life reveals itself to you don't be afraid
The best gift that it gives is usually handmade
Just grab hold of your destiny and hang on tight
And know that you can lead yourself into the light
In blackest night there always comes around the morn
When all seems lost there is a hopeful glimmer born
Deep as the river runs will be the love you find
If you allow someone to bless you and be kind
When you're out walking in the storm try to be calm
Let sunshine gather 'round your shoulders like a balm
Wrap yourself in strength of purpose every day
Never give up hope that you will find your way
Believe the colors of the wind will paint your soul
Though circumstance can wear you down and take its toll
Keep your spirits lifted high to heaven above
Surround yourself with sweet bouquets of hope and love
Celebrate Christmas Day
In stable - manger Christ lay
Brightest star shone way
Nativity gels
tinsel glitter baubles bells
Notes of pine tree smells
Bend fold crease cut glue
made with love from me to you
clock ticks... finished... phew!
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