My Wooden Box — was — too small — for my Heart —
It beat — against the Grain —
Until the Cedar — splintered wide —
And let the Sorrow — in —
I tried — to fold it — carefully —
As Seamstresses — with Lace —
But Feelings — are not Linen —
They burst — from every Place —
The Carpenter — of Heaven — knows —
No Coffin — fits the Soul —
For Love — expands — beyond the Lid —
And breaks — its narrow Role —
So bury me — in Boundless Air —
And mark me — with a Tree —
For Wood decays — and Hearts — ascend —
To larger Mystery —
Craven cupidity, contemptible crow
Your talking is squawking as black as your soul
If birds of a feather would gather your hem
A collection of seamstresses darker than them
Would weave from hole cloth a pattern of lies
From a harvest of calumny dark'ning the skies
Who rates this performance, whose benefit there
With bait this enormous just fit for a bear
Who else in the forest could relish this feast
Galumphing, triumphing, it must be a beast
Wallowing, swallowing, swampy at best
Content to recline there and dine on the rest
Immobile as a trophy, stuffed for display
On future repast, blackened feather filet
Blow hard and bellow with yellowing cries
Gather like fellows who feast on these lies
If chapels had been churches, your cathedral would loom
'stead of gathering shadows in this canyon of gloom
With your bins full of blight and your gather of smut
We hasten to bid you not good night but... what?
We wonder still under quick'ning despair
In search of escape, it must be here but... where?
There must be some light lest this darkness o'erwhelm
We must brave the night til the Good take the helm
Sister Susie sewed so many shirts for soldiers,
She sometimes suffered serious SSD.
That’s sewing stress disorder, so stressed out Susie says;
Something seamstresses all suffer from you see.
So sixty shirtless soldiers stood shivering in the snow,
While sewer Susie stopped and took a rest.
One sympathetic soldier, sad at sister Susie’s stress,
Sent Sue a saucy snapshot, standing shyly in his vest
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
The Queen’s seamstresses they tried to sew,
The footman with glue he had a go,
Even the gardener tried, with horse poo!
The wizard attempted, with something taboo.
In the end, it was over; the Priest had to pray
And Henri the chef made them all a soufflé!
Wondering how fairies obtain dresses?
It's because they have fairy seamstresses
Sewing with pine needles and spidery
Gathered from spiders fine web filigree.
Pretty petals for fabric, leaves for shoes
Smelling of sweet fragrant floral perfume
Flowers to adorn their flowing tresses
Crystal star droplets sown into dresses.
Gossamer to turn into fairy wings
So fairies may fly in sky, revelling
Sprinkles of fairy dust, a wand for luck
When all dressed up, so pretty fairies look.
When you find fairies in a fairy glade
Recall how their lustrous outfits are made.
I have come to a strange town
The streets have changed their names
The roads have given ways to gigantic flyovers
The bushes have given ways to codominiums and giant one-stop shopping centres
Few pedestrians on the roads
People are housed under the roofs
They are wearing masks, spectacles, shields and bulky suits
Like astronaunts in outer space
Boutiques replaced seamstresses
Many important posts are monopolied by women
Some men start to wear no-frame spectacles, colourful blouses and do baby-sitting
People said they have a hard time
Although wealth has shifted to this town
Because the prices of commodities are soaring high
Due to the lack of workers
It has been many years before I, a stranger arrived
Tiny protection for
Those seamstresses ' small fingers.
Thimbles come in sizes.
Test the samples, ladies
Thoughtfully get right fit.
Thrust on embroiderers.
Threads will become great art!
(...surely goodness and mercy will follow me all of my days and I will dwell in the House of the Lord, forever. Psalm 23:6)
Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, angels three,
Have been following me all of my days.
Constant companions spiritually,
They're seamstresses trying to mend my ways.
Shirley surveys a narrow path, but I stray.
Goodness (a bit slow) is left far behind.
Off i wander down my heathen pathway,
Never caring but for what pleasure I find.
Shirley growls fiercely, "Must you act the fool?"
Goodness moans, "Why won't you listen to me?"
The harder I try seems the less I can rule
Myself, so if I lose two of the three--
I still hope to dwell in the House of the Lord,
So Mercy, I pray, will pay room and board.
...surely goodness and mercy will follow me all of my days and I will dwell in the House of the Lord, forever. Psalm 23:6
Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, angels three
Have been following me all of my days.
Constant companions spiritually,
They're seamstresses trying to mend my ways.
Shirley surveys a narrow path but I stray.
Goodness (a bit slow) is left far behind.
Off I wander down my heathen pathway,
Never caring but for what pleasure I find.
Shirley growls fiercely, "Must you act the fool?"
Goodness moans, "Why won't you listen to me?"
The harder I try seems the less I can rule
Myself, so if I lose two of the three--
I still hope to dwell in the House of the Lord,
So Mercy, I pray, will pay room and board.
Empty the prisons
let felons roam free
get rid of the police
disarm the peeps
catastrophic experiments
at the expense of citizens
crime sky high
riots are America's new pastime
the great purge has begun, folks
twenty-four -seven-three sixty-five-
Heaven has to hire more security
Saint Peter's gate has become unruly
angels are twitchy, armed to the wing
the seamstresses are growing fatigued
they're quickly running out of string
heaven's prisons are quickly filling up
(...surely goodness and mercy will follow me all of my days and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Psalm 23:6)
Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, angels three
Have been protecting me all of my days.
Constant companions spiritually,
They're seamstresses trying to mend my ways.
Shirley surveys narrow paths, but I stray.
Goodness (a bit slow) is left in my wake,
As off I sprint down my heathen pathway
With no thought for what they do for my sake.
Shirley growls fiercely, "Must you act the fool?"
Goodness moans, "Why won't you listen to me?"
The harder I try, seems the less I can rule
Myself, so if I lose two of the three--
I still want to dwell in the house of the Lord,
So Mercy, I pray, will pay room and board.
Tribute to Dawn of Day: Stories from the Underground Railroad
From
Tennessee
Virginia
Mississippi
Kansas
Wisconsin
To free states in the north and Canada
I grieved upon the grave of the slave
Tears circling the tomb
Securing his name
For their bloodshed
From whips and blows
By the masters and relatives
On the countryside
Down south
Oral histories and tradition passed down
Children
An investment
Field hands
Skilled labor
Textile production
Seamstresses clothed the slaves
A hovering over of threat of violence
And a whipping
Secret prayer meetings held on the plantation
The Underground Railroad
Station masters housed runaway slaves
in logged cabins
Conductors run the wagon
$50 reward for their capture
Images of faces with no names
Abolitionists regarded as extremists
A threat to the order of the day
******* fought in the Civil War
Share cropping
And Jim Crow
Then migration to city ghettos or slums
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
09/26/19
Smoke on the water or dust in the wind,
Rain has been purple since innocence sinned.
The levee is dry and the spirit retired,
But song-writing seamstresses still seem inspired.
maybe
my purpose
was
to break
necks
twig
me
i
am
was
i
am
is me
sobriety leans
towers to peace
lighthouses tree
bark from me
scrap dogs
crumb me
love me
of me
no
no
no
look up
heart attacks
give to break
breaking breaths
stitches on my me
sewn through sleeves
seamstresses seamstressing
seamstressed
stressed
broke
neck
why
am
i
wonder wonder
wonder duck duck
goose
purposes my maybe
furr purses my baby
tick an a tic tock
?
Reading diaries of different discussion blots is considered to be akin to perusing the top shelf of a historical library section. Each label once worn drops like stones sinking into the carpet and creases of streamed floorboards. Floorboards do float don't they? Have you not seen the many that pass the doors? They are quicker than the doors anyway so best spray the armpits and go jogging then. Thought the woodworm athletic tribe. Gathering gabled garbled gargling gatherings greet giant Gregorian gargoyles getting generally gifted garters gutting grouped gismo geckos. How triumphant then? And hopefully a dance will last longer than a sharp snapped second. Seconds are neither seams, seamstresses, nor stressed sultanas in safaris and saris, nor are they acrimonious android alphabetical alpacas racing to a degree of a nine foot tail spin. Ring ran road. And a big lorry leering. Lecherously. Leeches lingering. And limbs lumber. How rather audaciously brilliant then. Isn't it? Kent jam race on the large spoon. Z meteorologic Z at fifty cones carving creative cosmoses' to sixteen apples in leotards cheering on the waves. 1 2 3 4 ~ and clam. Z
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.