Long Sewed Poems
Long Sewed Poems. Below are the most popular long Sewed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sewed poems by poem length and keyword.
I loved you with both hands broken,
offered you oceans cupped in cracked palms,
watched it leak, leak, leak,
through fingers too battered to hold a tide.
I made myself a museum of becoming,
stitched old prayers into the walls,
hung portraits of the selves I killed to be loved,
polished my ribs until they gleamed like pearls,
sewed silk into my voice,
laced my spine with iron and gold.
Still —
still —
never enough.
You looked at me like a lukewarm cup of coffee,
forgotten on the counter,
cold and curdled and waiting to be thrown away.
I wrote symphonies across my skin,
tattooed your name in invisible ink on my lungs,
trained my heart to beat in the shape of your smile —
God, I would have set myself on fire
just to keep you warm.
And still —
still —
never enough.
I could have carved out whole galaxies,
plucked stars from their cradles and handed them to you,
and you would have asked for the moon, too,
and my bones, too,
and the breath from my mouth, too.
I wore myself down like riverstone,
all edges smoothed away,
just so you wouldn’t cut yourself on my love.
But you never even noticed.
You never even slipped.
I was a feast for your hunger,
but you said you weren’t hungry.
I was a lighthouse in your storms,
but you said you liked drowning better.
And now —
now I sit here with a chest full of echoes,
a garden where nothing grows,
a life half-lived,
whispering to the hollow night:
What more?
What more could I have become?
The stars blink back, indifferent.
The world keeps spinning, tired of my asking.
And you?
You don't even remember my name.
Loitering around at the expense
of my parents back,
I too wish to be at the resemblance
of hardworking thumbs,
those same fingers that sewed
the futile grounds back home,
my mother’s yuca farm,
my father's dying crops,
dance taking their final
waltz with the tumble-
weeds in direction
where my ancestors
sleep while their bones
continue
to prosper,
their voices evoke
within the breeze
that had asked
for generational appeal
to the heavens that took
their last breath,
“My body crisp
at the sight of the sun,
my mind wavers as my heart
knows endless
bounties of weeds,
twisting,
turning,
suffocating,
all of life beneath
our breaths,
Yet The Night is upon us,
offering eternal rest as
mercy has finally reached
it's limits, a new vision
begins alongside
the Golden
thread of Youth,
a soul that marked
a beginning and now
an end.”
All that's left withered
away as each ancestor
departs,
my parents left their grounds,
the vibrancy of life dried
up leaving no generations
behind,
My Youth became
their bodies and my life
framed forever in each
era of my ancestors.
More Than A Soft Toy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
Contest Judged: 9/25/2025 12:40:00 PM
( 2nd Place )
Your fur is worn thin now,
patches where love pressed too hard,
but to me you were never just a toy -
you were the voice of courage
when the dark grew too loud.
I held you like a secret shield,
breathing into your sewed ear
the worries I dared not share with my mother.
You guarded them in silence,
never speaking a word
but somehow - I always slept easier.
In daylight you became a friend
sailing ships across blankets,
chasing clouds across the plaster sky,
celebrating every victory
in make-believe wars you alone could prove
Even now,
you linger on my shelf,
a gentle witness that love
is stitched to last
beyond the years.
Tucked away in a forest, where treetops did sway
Lived a family pondering why they felt this way,
A miracle was to happen, which was certain to heal,
And their faith to God, was a joy to reveal.
The forest was giving, they lived off the land, ,
Each member of the family, lending a hand
Dad a carpenter, crafted a variety of toys,
Mother sewed outfits for the girls and the boys.
Dad went out in the snow and spotted a tree,
He heard it whisper, please choose and take me,
A bright star shone brightly, and there it did stay,
Angels opening a pathway to the babe in the hay.
Poem Competition: A Christmas Carol Poetry Contest
Lyric written to the Christmas Carol of: AWAY IN A MANGER
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
2021/12/08
On the porch, clouds covering the sun
Memories flood like spring rain
Remembering those times long ago
Of burlap times and pain
There was no hope for satin gowns
Calico was my dress
Then times were harder that one year
Adults were really stressed
Daddy bought the animal feed
In sacks of printed cloth
Mama got enough matching bags
Untouched by dreaded moth
Two skirts were made by a seamstress
Some shirts from bleached flour sacks
There was no nudity at our home
In work mom did not slack
We knew nothing of satin cloth
Survival our weak mode
God blessed my father's efforts
When new skirts were sewed
Written: March 24, 2018
Your house still smells like you:
Warm shortbread and lavender soap -
Comforting and agonizing.
Your plants still bloom,
Perched beside the window
Where the kettle waits to be filled.
But your rocking chair is still
And all is quiet.
I could have fallen to pieces
Like a hand-blown vase
Hurled against green walls
Or dropped on old floorboards
Through fingers slick with shock.
But you sewed me up
With words gone by.
Your remnant thoughts
(So similar to thoughts I've had)
Penned in your slanted scrawl,
Filling pages with perfect rhymes
And clever observations.
Here you'll live forever
In vibrant verses and lilting lines.
And I'll live here too
Until the last salty drop
Lands on the final page.
A Pharisee once asked Jesus
“What’s the greatest commandment?”
He answered with the age-old Shema.
“Love your God with your heart, soul and mind.”
and then he added “love your neighbor
as you love yourself.” That defines charity.
1 Corinthians 13 is called the love chapter
Paul wrote to Christians of faith and hope and charity
He said – charity (love) is the greatest of these three.
Because of my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,
Because of my hope of eternal life with Him,
I can do deeds of charity with pleasure.
Simple things like Dorcas did in the Bible
She sewed garments for needy people.
she showed Jesus' love - her greatest talent.
Greater love has no man than He lay down his life
for the good of those who need help around him.
Charity is loving others like Jesus loves us.
October 18, 2019
contest: 1 Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration
host: Regina Riddle
18 lines, free verse
The Pipe
(irrigation)
I am a city girl,
I have never,
until now…
Ridden a horse across the desert,
held a tarantula for longer than…
five minutes,
used an incubator to raise chickens,
helped keep track of puppies (twice),
cut tails and sewed them like material.
keep fish in a pond, raised just to eat,
and my garden is not organic,
it is simply blessed.
I bought, fixed and "care for"...,
my Own John Deere…Riding Tractor.
This is not a boast.
I have crawled under houses,
into attics, painted barns and chased a PIG!
The rooster would not quit crowing.
The altogether too close neighbor did the same.
Oh…
and the rain was coming down
in the middle of the front room,
inside.
While on the outside…
I, was knee-deep in water.
Not from above, although he lent a hand.
The corner of the yard. That mysterious place.
Behind a tree, a stump and two bushes.
It came from there, like the flood of Noah.
Now a gaping hole, where the river came to visit.
Fast and slow, in and out everywhere.
The middle of the night…
The top and I, do battle.
Cold and merciless… I shake, freezing.
I will win. Stop the gush, in a rush.
I am a city girl…
But I am a warrior.
Her mother was a seamstress, her aunts and grandma too
She had grown up into it naturally, serious seamstress Sue.
Her house was full of fat quarters, there were pins on her floor
Tiny bits of embroidery floss followed all her clothes out the door
She liked quilting, she was an expert, a hand-stitching queen.
Did not allow anyone to say “hand-made” in any kind of mean.
Her jackets were quilted concoctions made of a variety of fabric pieces.
She made comforters and bags for her six daughters and three nieces.
Sue's expensive sewing machine was going twenty-four seven.
Can she take all of the things she made, when she goes up to heaven?
Sue did not worry about any of this, she sewed all day and night.
Wore her spools upon her head also, she was a truly crazy sight.
The flag that Betsy Ross did sew
So very many years ago
Had 13 stars for 13 states,
A flag that someone famous hates.
It represents a time, he said,
When hatred reared its ugly head,
For slavery was underway
Within the nascent U.S.A.
When Nike put it on a shoe,
Believing that was cool to do,
Objections stopped them in their tracks
And they caved in to tweet attacks.
The sneaker won't be up for sale
For Nike thought it wise to bail
As history keeps marching toward
A place where truth can be ignored.
The irony of Nike's loss
Of course resides with Betsy Ross
For no one's proven for a fact
That Betsy sewed the flag they sacked.