The pattern began with one piece of cloth~
a mountain shaped from triangles, each one a sliver of prairie dusk.
Indigo settles at the base like cooled shadow,
while a pale circle of moonlight hovers over the mountain
The geometry is simple, but the feeling is not.
Every angle carries Mother’s love of the Kansas prairie,
wheat bending under nightfall, each remembering
the woman who stitched them with moonlight pooling at her elbows.
When the quilt is finished, the mountains multiply~
a procession of slopes climbing across the cloth,
each crowned with its own soft moon.
The moons shine, remembering the hand
that patiently stitched them into place.
Soon, the quilt becomes a landscape of wonder
a picture stitched with cotton and color .
When the quilt is spread across a bed,
the mountains rise, the moons hover,
and Mother's presence fills the room,
held in the quiet geometry
of cloth that knows the shape of love.
Why do I always feel guilty
Every time I talk about you
Got me feeling broke and quilty
Can't see, but I'm still black and blue
Everything is always my fault
Apologizing's all I know
I could've, should've stopped it all
It's all on fire 'cause I'm slow
Why do I always feel the shame
Every time I admit you're wrong
Got me wanting to take the blame
Can't see, but I've fought for so long
Micromanaging every fight
'Cause they always feel dangerous
As a kid I was up all night
In case you would endanger us
Why'd I always make excuses
Every time someone hates your acts
Got me denying what abuse is
Can't see, but I hid all the facts
I feel bad for you hurting me
Like it's my fault you got irate
When the wrong lane we'd be
Never wanted to aberrate
"Minnesota Sleeps Beneath a Quilt of Silence”
A poem by Alan J Winters
The wind carves elegies in the snowdrift’s spine,
each gust a ghost of prairie time—
frost etching lace on windowpanes,
like memory’s breath on glass.
Cardinals flare like embers in bare trees,
red sparks against the hush of white.
Boots crunch through ice—
a rhythm of resilience,
each step a vow to endure.
Moonlight spills silver across frozen fields,
where silence blooms like wildflowers
beneath the aurora’s spectral dance—
green ribbons tangled in the cosmos,
entangled like hearts across distance.
Minnesota sleeps beneath a quilt of silence,
stitched with sled tracks and chimney smoke,
where childhood laughter echoes
in the crystalline hush of dusk.
Each flake a whisper from the sky’s cold heart,
falling not to bury, but to bless—
a transformation in stillness,
a journey wrapped in frost
Blueberry colored quilt has its charm
Snuggling under it trying to be warm
I hear an airplane buzzing boisterously
Up above do they feel the fall breeze
Carolina blue sky soon to host stars
Wondering if life is present on Mars
Thoughts of space fill the violet void
Not watching tv today like an android
Feeling my peace in the queen bed
Beginning to breathe feeling red
Warmth from the covers such a treat
Maybe a lover will come warm me
October starts at Septembers end
The seasons flow like crisp white wind
I’ll take notice of the weather change
Looking forward to light fall rain
Your breath is my quilt -
the ghost between sleep and wake.
Your touch, my alarm.
Lavender whispers sweet nothings in a sun- baked sky,
Crimson canopy gently caresses the titanic flowing tresses,
Frost-grey grief, softly lifted by warm helium’s kiss.
Quilt of rough and smooth
stitched together by hedgerows
stained by light and shade
THIS QUILT
This quilt a kaleidoscope of
corduroy colours
a struggle to even
out lucid lovers
cotton wool lies in
bumpity flats
I unravel thread
just like that cat !
Stitches are too loose or tight
corners say alright, so blight
while mantras race in light
“THE GRACE OF
IMPERFECTION TIGHT ” !
So like my country of carnivals
which takes too long in its winter
silent squares want to sing
songs of black swans to bring
Quilt quiet queenly comely !
Can I commence a new project ?
another challenging
lesson to learn
fingers ache sore
sessions to earn
this quilt into deep
sheep sleep
forlorn, forlorn
I dream of yellow
corn !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2016
God stitches together our life story
A patchwork quilt sewn meticulously
With all the best and tough times included
Not any experience excluded.
God watches over us and it does seem
That He doth perfectly sew a fine seam
Our quilt keeps on growing out in the mist
So we leave behind His wonderful gift.
Every stitch is sewn in with tender care
Each patch having unique stories to share
Stories telling all that we are made of
Our worries, troubles and mostly our love.
Reminders of all the deeds we have done
Plenty to recall, all happiness spun
Then when the quilt has come to completion
Hopefully it's a worthy achievement.
Each patch is a piece of our history
The essence that makes up who's you and me
Tears and fears that our ups and downs arouse
The laughter, the smiles that wrinkle our brows.
Thank God for His love and His tender care
For the quilt that'll warm someone's heart somewhere.
A silhouette
Backlit by glowing silver-gray
Lanky shadow
Lurking in my bedroom doorway
Arms stretch down, impossibly long
Deformed joints, disturbingly wrong
Pretending sleep
Muscles strain, be utterly still
Begin to shake
Body trembles against my will
I dream, irrationally hope
I scream, intentionally? Nope.
Shadow arms reach
Up the wall, across my ceiling
Cover my head
with Grandma's quilt, magic feeling
Love protection, hopefully right
The darkness, increasingly light
A springtime showers upon us like a quilt of stars,
The empty house warms in its vacant heart:
Through it pours the summer a river of melted lights,
And days tread softly upon soles of leaves;
Pain and pleasure, timid sisters, murmur in chorus.
Beneath the canopy of nights, I wove illusions in the moonlight,
In a silent film, with frames of untold fervors,
I wrapped up love, beautiful and mad,
Pure freedom, without heavy norms, a soul in a bird's nest.
The days twist, moist weavers in rooms spun silver
And we, in the calm of the everyday,
With simple words enchant the portraits of simplistic moments,
Building our shelter in the warmth of a waking dream,
An open book, pages speaking dreams aloud,
Corners adorned with jewels of oblivion,
Melancholic cats, lazily purring in the silence's casket,
We, tireless creators of worlds cradled in our palm.
In this theater of moments and scents, a verse is our altar,
Carved in eternity by our breath:
A stanza that endures, that cannot be torn from us,
Etched in the heart, like a leaf undefeated by autumn.
Live is but a patchwork quilt
Stitched together by Providence
Fate and life's events
It gets larger if you're lucky
Collecting new patches to add every day
A mixed bag of varied textures
Both smooth and rough
Different colours tones and shades
You can't know where life will take you next
But if you had the chance
You'd choose yellow
Instead of blue
Patches of love
Patches of distaste
Poverty or wealth
Sickness or health
Hard times good times
Pain and pleasure
Dreams and aspirations
Good times and bad
Happy or sad
Where ever life takes you
You'll not know until tomorrow
You point your arrow and
Hope it reaches your target
The quilt fades over time and frays threadbare
you just carry on at a slower pace
And threading the needle gets harder to thread
When your lights go dim
The quilt is a story of a journey
Like a biographical novel
Our history
A life once lived
A time to chill like the frosted air
bundle up with hats and scarfs
While nature gives its animals fur and thick skin
Our fat we so not as well cherish
But that deep sleep like the bears
Comes when the house is so cool
What is it about icy chilly air
That sends me into a drool of slumber
The fresh scent of cool linen
Beneath my warm grandma quilts
It's inviting and hospitable
You want to linger in luxury
To cast away winter chores
like shoveling snow I rather
Warm my toes by the fire
melting marshmallows for smores
And nurse hot drinks
The flip side of summer
Is the warm fuzzy rituals
We create only in winter.
When love is described in poetic quilt
It turns dreams into reality
Where the lovebirds turns into heroic form
There love is far away from social norms
Filled with romance, never ending love story
Under the blanket of stars two are sitting gazing each other without blinking
They lost in the maze of love
Everything that is near them turns a cupid which makes them fall in love beyond this world
Heart filled with whisper of beloved voice,
Heartbeats turns into beloved soul...
Copyright ©2023 Harsha Singh.All rights reserved.
Written: December 19, 2023
____________________________________________
In silken sheen of grace
with gleaming, auric strings
wedged ambrosian wonder;
once shown in ancient space
tough, spark us to ponder.
In silken sheen of grace
and I stroked the mauve scent,
and snow fell on the frame
with all plush of my heart
I sense it least would claim.
In silken sheen of grace,
I searched for unique yarns
what a charmed loom may pose
that caught the season's bloom;
they held their blossoms close.
In silken sheen of grace
the hazy breath of gold
the zooming, meager flame,
Its charm shielding my heart,
counting each one by name.
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