my sister sews
Has a Cadillac of a sewing machine
it cost as much as her first house
it has gadgets, dials, electronic commands
intimidates me
She plunks me in front of a serger
I never even heard of a serger before now
I am going to have to look up how to spell it
On a regular sewing machine, you do not sew off the material
on a serger, you have to sew three or four inches of stitches off the material
It takes me a day to get used to this
fancy sister
fancy seamstress
fancy machines
Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art !
The juvenile lyrical mind under infantile skin,
like the sweetness of the fruit ripe already,
will have the mute desire to reach and win
with artistic heart pulsating within puerile body.
Rising from the depth of ageless emotion,
spreading like waters of the flooding river,
love assumes a heavenly halcyon dimension
in a delightful art framed with platonic fervor.
When the yarn of yearning sews the closed eye,
on the flapping eyelids the bird of passion flies.
The flight makes all the dreams to rise high,
float like shapeless clouds in the seamless skies.
If in the same rhythm the two hearts beat,
time arrow will stop for you, making no sense.
Past forgotten, in the present two souls will meet,
sunk in the depth of blind love without pretense.
When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do !
The beak has broken, and I settle on the shore of painful thoughts,
while the sea sews salt around a shell of feathers—
a cradle carved from a time long vanished, a vapor dream of the past.
I touch it gently—the wings contract like secrets hidden in evening shadows—
fragile bruises, a poem of memories passed through rains of forgetting,
hidden beneath an old echo of lullabies that the wind whispers voicelessly.
But still, the shell splits and leaves behind only silence that drips into the depths,
beautiful things, shattering harder and harder now,
its beak caught in the shell's emptiness, wide and unmoved, a scream transformed into sculpture of silence.
And I—I remain stuck, dreaming with open eyes at skies of memories,
dragging myself through the sand of time, with knees scraped by edges of dreams,
still trying to fit into a space where I was never meant to be.
And the only question left—how many times can you bury a falling star,
that never asked to be held in the palm of an unknown desire?
The outrage spills
sews evil seeds
reaps injustice
as innocence bleeds.
Misguided few
opinions flawed
fallacious minds
spurred by fraud.
Seek what's true
for better aim
this acting out
shall bring you shame!!
Violent destructive acts upon the property of others, (Tesla) for whatever reason, cannot be justified, you are a criminal and you should be severely punished!!
He is not someone you bump into on the road and fail to notice,
he is the one whose presence you feel in the empty corridors he traversed,
he doesn't wear the falsehood of a feigned smile on his lips,
but sews his bleeding truths onto the contours of his soul.
He won't accuse you of gazing too long at his flawless face or measured steps,
he is not the subject of the town's empty chatter, but the whisper that slips into shadows,
he is an ordinary person who hates attention, too hesitant to meet your gaze,
he doesn't care about appearances or the silent knives that wound his back.
He is someone you all know,
he is someone you all judge.
He remains an enigma revealed only in the silence between heartbeats,
a story that stretches like an echo among the cold walls of indifference,
a presence that asks nothing but leaves a deep mark in the silence it touches,
a soul weaving its path amid gazes that lack the courage to see.
Flitting hundred times
she sews home to perfection
sings to-whee-cheeup
Woven threads, of fate's design,
A girl child's future is intertwined.
With education's needle, strong and fine,
She sews her path, a destiny divine.
Each stitch a lesson, a wisdom gained,
Her tapestry of dreams is unchained.
She weaves her life, with skill and grace,
A vibrant future, she will embrace.
Where mind sews cobwebs,
I take out a dissolving spyglass.
The space between this self
looks back seeing nothing.
That which holds,
rolls over mind-clouds,
finding no anchors.
The day will take me soon,
make me be what I claim to be,
but in any next pre-dawn
surfacing,
I will know again,
that I am not.
In this moment, I stand tall,
Grateful for each rise and fall.
Life's journey, a gift to unwrap,
A joyous clap, life beautifully sews.
With each year, wisdom grows,
Embracing laughter, shedding tears,
A dance of hopes, conquering fears.
So here's to another year to share,
To cherish moments, love to declare.
On this birthday, in a world so grand,
I'll celebrate and take a stand.
For the beauty of life, in every way,
Thank you, Lord, for this special day.
With gratitude and a heart that's light,
I welcome this year, shining bright.
a moment be as...
a 'mow-meant' to clear
any space we be...
in
so time as change be just...
so that whatever any mom-meant leaves behind
sews a new space-time present...
that
be for what follows it next and...
be itself as the new space-time moment that will
become a staircase to another new future...
stan sand
time …
takes no hostages
but for those let with dearest blood
if there IS such a thing as chaos
it is in the scrambled madness
that intent, circumstance, fate, and impulse
leaves upon our plate …
we trade the futures of our youth
for the memories of age …
the dearest cost -
each moment, each instant -
given without a thought of how
incredibly precious it is
how valuable its utilization …
and it’s amidst that casualty that we
lose sight of the little things
the in-between happenings that become
the thread of our lives -
that gold braid that binds all we do and
think and feel and find
to our desires and achievements
and sews the seam of
existence, grace and hope …
yet …
we all have the option
(and it is a self-conscious choice)
to not accept time’s tariffs -
to appreciate a moment with the
reverence it’s due
and not assess our worth by accomplishment
but rather how fully we embrace the now
and the only true lasting, timeless
treasure …
love.
Blue faded.
The same horizon, the same clouds
changed by brushes from an impressionist painter.
The lavender sky blushes
and the crest of the cheery trees beams
as the wind hums, enticing belated bumblebees.
Twigs rattle waking a little shepherdess bellow.
Amber eyes browse the dusky glen.
She whistles, summoning her hound
and ties her undulating hair with a butterfly.
She engenders a ballroom below the tree’s canopy.
and abandons her boot, her cap, her apparel.
A blushful wind sews a new dress with dead leaves.
She tiptoes on the top of the grass blades
and two small primroses flourish on her face
as the tender breeze takes a rhyme from her lips.
The tangling grass tickles her feet
and a perishing sunray slips between the leaves
to reach her cheeks.
She hoovers free and twirls making herself a target
for distracted bowmen…
.. her dog barks and she eyes down
to a basket with four remaining heart-shaped berries.
Night arrives and starlight precipitates.
The little shepherdess greets the drops of rain with a spin.
Listen, listen to the lingering melody.
what eyes see
sews...
what's icey
so what i seize
sewing's...
what eyes saw
stan sand
Every time I see a flower I see your face inside
I love to look at flowers, their beauty cannot hide
See, flowers are so beautiful in ways that we can know
Through sweetly scented petals, in colors of rainbows
Bouquets of lovely orchids, bring thoughts and memories
Of dreamy dreams of meadow walks, and picnics under trees
I've had all sorts of dreams with you, walking lover's lanes
And always we are hand in hand, that common thread remains
Connecting all my thoughts of you with one unbroken twine
That weaves its way and sews the stitch that seals those thoughts as mine
I see your face right now my dear, do you know? I don't suppose
But if you could see me here right now, I'm looking at a rose
while saying prose would propose
we should be using proper pose
used by the Pro's
when we suppose nose knows
always looks great when it glows
wherever it goes
when those knows when she sews
quiet quilt party she again throws
while wind with each other comes to blows
when we have buttons and bows
with our huge head down to our toes
while our stupidity shows
when dear was with her does
she stepped on ice and feet froze
green grass hose and hows so it grows
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