Our love—a tattered tapestry in twilight torn,
Blood-stained vows, I ne’er should have sworn.
Yet still, I grasp the ghost of hope long dead,
Whilst my heart lies trapped in love’s unraveling thread.
Our past—a patchwork of promises loosely sewn,
A mosaic of miseries, lies I shouldst have known.
Colors once radiant now washed and bled,
As sorrow’s heavy tears soak each tender thread.
Our vows—etched upon withered parchment thin,
Sealed my fate with sorrow’s sanguine pen.
With futile needle I sought to mend,
The pale, torn veil of love’s forsaken end.
Our souls—once spun upon seraphim loom,
Star-crossed lovers ‘neath empyrean moon.
As fate’s spindle spins tenebrous threads taut and thin,
O’ how I yearn to weave us whole again.
But thou—unwind the tethered twine,
That once bound thy haunted heart to mine.
Where art thou now my false Valentine?
Lost in the warp where truth and treachery entwine.
And though thou hast sundered our seams apart,
Thy name shall ever remain stitched in mine heart.
—Edward
A city will swallow you whole
the suburbs will chew on you for a bit
our world's gone off its bloody blue axis.
We were born to thrive and not just exist.
Given mustard seed souls to nurture into bloom...
Some live to poke and twist
silk from the soul of the cherry wood loom.
Head for the evergreens for just a bit.
Take in a teaspoon of sapphire breaths.
Sashay up a mountain- nanny goat by your side
High altitude, sweetened air in a Monet sky.
Take a crystal dip in a cool blue orchid-shaped jewel, sleeping between the whisper of the alpine Mind.
Return, with earthen spirits woven into the chest.
Face the fiery darts of man's greasy restlessness.
Hold onto the many, cherry wood blessings
hold tight for as long as you possibly can.
Are gay jockeys fruit of the loom,
when riding a race on the course,
and would they need a leg-up,
to get on their high horse?
Bucking the system in a one-horse town,
or in the middle of a stream,
to look for gifts in a horse's mouth,
is not the smartest scheme.
Would a long-faced horse, a sourpuss,
not wanting to be a player,
bolt the barn door
and be a neigh-sayer?
If a broke cowboy, saddled with a nag,
a dark horse of a different colour that's *****,
were bent, a crooked rustler,
would he sell you a bum steer?
rains of lights pour on
pearl white art crafted sky glows ~
nooks of hearts are dark
The Loom of Life
By Franklin Price
01/23/2022
I can feel your presence near me
As I move from room to room
Further threads of life I'm weaving
On our still shared marriage loom
It's a lonely place without you
Though I see you all around
From the pictures hanging on the walls
To the plants within the ground
From the china in the cabinet
To the rugs upon the floor
Your touch exists here everywhere
You're still in my heart, and more
You're the one who made our house a home
A place of comfort in our life
Not even in a million years
Could I have found a better wife
From your window there in Heaven
Don't look down on me and cry
Memories of you make me happy
We'll be together by and by
Until then, I'll keep on weaving
For our family, friends and heirs
Weeping sometimes 'cause I miss you
I'm your husband who still cares
When I no longer work the loom
I'll meet you in the promised land
I'll love you 'til forever
The wedding band's still on my hand
blossom’s fragrance swells
bees swirl harvest for winter -
fruit tree bark applauds
10th November 2020
Butterflies do flutter by
and leaves fly on the wind
eagles soar on angels wings
and worms burrow in
rain falls like tears of the sun
and fire burns in a rage
birds should be free to soar the wind
and never put in a cage
the monkeys swing from tree to tree
trees whistle in the wind
and clap their mighty hands
creak and moan in mighty storms
and fall like thunder sings
thunder cracks and lightning bolts
with a mighty flash and boom
who knows where we all fall
on lifes great loom
a pillar of strength i am not
an emptiness consumes me
like these trees in their starkness
in this harsh winter breath
my thoughts stifled by the winds
that sweep past the pools of tears
that lie frozen like beads of glass
in the depths of somber eyes
my lips sipping coffee
trying to regain warmth
from the kiss of death's lips
and this bitter air that surrounds them
my arms reaching beyond shadows
like trees reaching for the sun
trying to find warmth of arms
to comfort me... falling short
within the loom of clouds
as they gather around me
my soul feels as lifeless
as all that is around me
in the wake of winter's glum
silently searching for something
to lift me back up off this ground
to make me dance, like autumn's leaves
in the warmth of winded breaths
my heart shattered -crumbles within
awaiting the pulse of night to come
to carry it on the wings of dreams
where happiness is in existence
and absence is often less felt
Love for Food Does Loom
Our love for food always does loom;
For another meal we will make room,
And eat until gone,
To dusk from dawn;
Sweep away all crumbs using broom.
Jim Horn
Transform me...
weave me slowly
into the silky essence
of ecstasy ~
spellbinding are your stirring threads
of silver and gold -
rich is your tapestry of tender tendrils --
and sacred is the union
of our
tantra breaths
Susan Ashley
July 6, 2018
*Tantra; Sanskrit: literally “loom, weave, system” - Wikipedia.
Tantra represents weaving strands into a unified whole; leaving this piece open to different interpretations of awareness, romance or spirituality based on your perspective*
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: July 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The Loom of Breksta
Quivering tongues writhe and race
Whispers fortell her cool embrace
Her touch so soft a gentle breeze
A pleasing caress to russel the leaves
The land reborn before my eyes
Filled with dark and foreign skies
An offer come to set me free
My heart to pound, my mind to flee
Claim the beauty of this night
Beneath her silver enchanted light
Embrace the soft and flowing breeze
Adopt the rhythm of the trees
To dance beneath her silver glow
My bitter sense of time will slow
The gentle night like myth and mist
The light of day will steal her kiss
Unfinished dreams leave cruel regrets
Unyielding love one soon forgets
The night my dreams our love her loom
This mournful morning’s come too soon
Weaving Our Robes From An Old, Broken Loom
In this cold world, naked and helpless born
With coming sorrow expressed in first cries,
Soon fed false dreams and other useful lies,
Ever seeking more to oneself adorn.
In falling flight as a broken wing hawk,
Our sad dead bodies, not yet drawn in chalk
Are we mere pawns in this ancient world's game
Greedy hearts, seek others to chide and blame.
If manna from high Heaven fails to fall
Blind spirits joined together, cry and moan
Rejecting any true light ever shone
Living in darkness, its alluring call.
Not seeing our fated approaching doom
Weaving our robes from an old, broken loom.
loom tensioned for work
webster's pattern emerges
music warping time
Poems Like to Loom
So should I be pleased with the presumption
You could call this conspicuous consumption
How long would you have to rattle a sabre
After learning wife had just gone into labor.
I finally have forgotten all the furious fuss
When they discovered I was ambidextrous
And if I now had a fair amount of vigilance
Maybe might severely affect consequence.
Finally, completely came back to my senses
As soon as I was interrupted by suspense's
Makes no difference how much money I paid
Eventually into my fantastic fortune did fade.
For me, whole life by God is greatly planned
Why should I even start trying to understand
I may flimsily fuss and then frantically fume
My poems like to loom while flowers bloom.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
See if this one messes with your mind for a while?
Mathematical nirvana one after another forms a link
Together they are in sync
Of understanding they are at brink
They go as far as the mind can think
The neural flame expands the brain
Math by it spawned is next link in a chain
The loom of light creates treads each like a rope or a vain
The soul expresses divine math seeking to make it plain
Of dimensions of growth number untold
Together they are like treads creating wonder to behold
It is the fabric of spirit beautiful and bold
They are foundation for theory of everything worth more than gold
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