Stitching Strength
[Verse 1]
In the depths of my mind, I feel the sting,
A staple in my heart, a haunting cling.
Torn apart, the edges frayed,
Searching for solace in the shadows played.
But I stand up strong, won’t let it break me,
The pain’s a part of the fire that shapes me.
[Chorus]
A staple in my heart, still I rise and fight,
Every scar a reminder, my path in the night.
Being torn apart, but the light shines through,
I’ll stitch my own story and start anew.
[Verse 2]
Moving closer to the dreams that I chase,
With every heartbeat, I carve out my space.
Threads of hope weave through my art,
Resilient spirit, I won’t fall apart.
So I rise again, feel the weight lift,
In this twisted fate, I find my gift.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
This journey’s mine, forever I’ll roam,
From staples to strength, I’ve found my home.
Her name is Grandma Knit Mouse I was told.
You mean Grandma Titmouse? I asked, big and bold.
No, but you have to see her to understand, I guess.
She was in between sweaters, in a huge yarn mess.
She knits in the morning, she knits through the day
Hat, booties, and layettes, all pastel, purled in a way.
She has made a name for herself and is a millionaire now.
Grandma Knit Mouse impressed me; she was a wow!
One Couple Of Days ago last week,
the two dead men found out they were really meek.
The blind woman has learned how to knit,
she loves to knit shoes for her bunny outfit.
The deaf policeman is now off the force,
he loves being a twenty-six hour DJ in the mall concourse.
The two dead boys love to play lively pranks,
like driving down main street in their big red tanks.
[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
A newty knit a net of knots and thought it rather fitting.
But knew he not, that naughty newt, that nets are not for knitting.
You, my life and my girl
In these together
If we have to burn
In the embers they fan
We're dying together
I abort her never
She has to deliver
And the world of her dad
Rule over forever.
You, my life and my love
In eyes yours I see my girl
So closely knit together
That if we have to burn
The three of us
Are dying together.
The pregnancy for nine months
So well for it cared allover
That the time to deliver
It will abort never
Not in my love.
In these red embers
With scalpels of doctors
We're so knit together
That in these embers
We're burning together
Several weeks in to this healing journey.
Grateful of course, there was no gurney..
Now waiting for these bones to knit.
It's challenging for me to quietly sit.
Wheeling around my condo floors,
the metal stripping's are loose once more.
My wheel chair clunks on the foyer tiles.
Some days my arms feel they've walked several miles..
I amble to my car with my walking stick, to run a few
errands lickity split.
I'm grateful for drive thru's, those places one
can just pull up to: drive thru pharmacy to pick up my meds,
drive thru star bucks to clear my head, of course the fast
food options too. May God bless the drive thru!!
Still striving hard not to succumb to my some days
emotional pendulum..
Five weeks down, five more to go, the healing process is
painfully slow.
The Maker : Knit and Purl
The Maker wields the needles
of predestination and free will,
One in each strong, talented hand.
Knitting the yarn and thread of our lives
Into the fabric of time with such love.
Knit ,with predestination;
His will is done.
Purl ,with free will;
Our choices made.
Knit and purl, purl and knit,
The pattern known to Him and yet
allowed to be as it is, who it is.
It is when choice agrees with His will
That the pattern becomes
as beautiful as He intended.
Until the tapestry of lives
form who we are, why we are.
Interlocking with others,
Becoming part of the
pattern of all things.
The Enemy cuts
With sharp shears of deceit.
Maniacally ripping jagged holes.
The Maker patiently mends
With healing truth and love.
Knit and purl, purl and knit
Until we are whole again.
Sorting out struggling moments, listening to Dolly Parton: A coat of many colours, a rainbow of wisdom
sang for changing. Turning back is possible, a turning point means new feet to walk on.
I mean further, new feet to dance on. Let me take you for a dance. We can get our wings ready to fly. Let me be out of my dreams for a while. Let me be. Just let me be dreaming for a while.
Let me be the coat of many colours knitted to be worn.
Let me jump if it's possible,
Let me caress your soft song.
a song's beauty starts
with old notes to be played with
~listen to the best
In her old-fashioned world
It's knit one pearl two;
The pattern never changes,
The vesture never finished.
Teddy looked sad, forlorn cold and bare
Sat on the bed with nothing to wear
So aunty got out her knitting pins
To knit Teddy some warm cosy things.
First came a jumper in shades of blue
Then some trousers, the same colour too
Also a scarf, a hat and some mitts
To please Pip, her young nephew that is.
Aunty knitted all day and all night
To please her Pip in the morning light
And to delight his Teddy bear too
They mean the world to her do those two.
Teddy looked dapper in his outfit
Pip was thrilled and gave aunty a kiss
Teddy thanked her with a cheeky wink
Aunty blushed, but she was tickled pink.
Is, The, Star Knit, Star Knit
Field's, Feat, Sum;
Baby, Toddler's, .... Cardigan's?!
Her chopsticks are at the ready.
Her hands are good and steady.
She likes to knit her noodles!
The task has just begun...
She starts off with a mango Welt
With pride, with zest, with tang.
It's a mesmerising watch
While the wiggling noodles hang.
Next. She's on to saucy Stocking Stitch.
Her garment sure does grow!
Knit one - Purl one - Knit two together
On each tasty row.
And this main course is called
" Knit Purl Chopstick Cha "
With a curry Cabled centre,
With sides of paprika Purl and Knit korma.
And as an extra tasty treat
BBQ Rib Raglan is on the menu.
Trust me! This kind of cuisine
Can't be found in any old venue!
From there on, the sleeves do drop
Like the soy sauce shaken a top.
Neatly Knitted are the Ribs.
Who voted for fish and chips?
To finish this fine course...
Knit - Slip - Knit - Pass Slip Stitch over.
This will make the button holes
For the chocolate to melt all over.
And on completion, these knitted noodles
Slide straight on down her throat...
Before we've had a chance to prove her skill
This talent to others gloat!
Tina learnt to knit her own sweater
Instructions followed to the letter
Many stitch she did drop
Gave too many a strop
When made looked like been through a shredder
Next she wanted to learn to crochet
Make flowers tied into a bouquet
Got her yarn in a twist
Knots and ties would not shift
But did look like a crochet toupee
Decided to learn how to hand sew
With pretty ribbon make a hairbow
Kept pricking her finger
Soreness pain did linger
Her fingers now size of her elbow
Not to give up, tried live art drawing
Felt that was her natural calling
Excited and nervous
Felt hot as a furnace
Of male model on all fours posing
No dangly bits was shown to be drawn
Disappointed felt little bit conned
She drew him very well
All her friends she did tell
As an artist was were she belonged.
18.12.20
Loose Knit
by Michael R. Burch
She blesses the needle,
fetches fine red stitches,
criss-crossing, embroidering dreams
in the delicate fabric.
And if her hand jerks and twitches in puppet-like fits,
she tells herself
reality is not as threadbare as it seems ...
that a little more darning may gather loose seams.
She weaves an unraveling tapestry
of fatigue and remorse and pain; ...
only the nervously pecking needle
pricks her to motion, again and again.
Published by The Chariton Review, Penumbra, Black Bear Review, Triplopia
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