Short Quilting Poems

pieces of cotton
grandma’s fantastic quilting
memory blanket...

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be key to all seen
                              a morning feeling singing
may u stand firm...

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my whispers
from
dark to light
what candle
sewn bright
quilting me
into night
knighted
aroma
induced love coma
cry ing
elixirs
my
whispers
?...

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Gilded parasol on horizon's edge twirling
Twilight's lamp shade dying embers swirling
Sun's spent beams with embroidered frills quilting
Patchwork of tinctured gases simmering
Deep red, burnt orange ridges brimming
Violet, creme pastels periphery fringing
Dusk's opaque veil with palling shadows dimming...

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Had I time
to learn a craft today
it would not be poetry
perhaps quilting using batiks
or other fabrics
that tell tales exotic
or maybe origami
with it's well defined shapes
for with poetry
not unlike ivory carving
good material is scarce,
there are only so many words
the comprehending will stand for...

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My new quilting teacher’s a guy
Which proves why you cannot get by
With presuming you know
Just which person will show
If the course list does not specify.

He’s delightful and knows all his stuff
And his skills appear quite up to snuff.
In his class I can grow
Since this teacher’s a pro
And that knowledge is more than enough....

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Golds and greens in grow,
whilst grey clouded skies stare down
in ashen envious gloom. 
A patchwork quilting,
blankets wheat fields as natures
undulations show her craft.



For Abe's Van Gogh's of Van Gogh contest the Painting is
" Wheat Fields at Auvers Under Clouded Sky "




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/art.php...

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Shelly sat watching, fascinated.
her great-grandma was quilting.
making the most marvelous blanket.
this is the largest one I’ve ever made, she said.
would you like to take a few stitches?
Shelly nodded. She was breathless.
her great-grandma watched her put the needle in and out.
then she carefully ripped them out and started over.
devastating Shelly....

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Eye catching patterns in colourful squares 
Were carefully stitched by gifted old hands

Commissioned for years to sew her fine quilts,
Her quilting designs were sought through the lands

Each blanket exquisite and full of old charm
All labours of love made at home on her farm

But time marches on and her eyes had grown tired 
And at ninety four years she is now long retired...

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In quilting class (which meets on Zoom),
I followed the directions,
By cutting, pinning, basting, sewing
All the different sections.

I kept up with the teacher 
(Which for me is very rare),
So during “show and tell” I had
A project I could share.

With the pillow insert stuffed inside,
I fluffed it all the way
And proudly placed it on the couch,
My hard work on display.
...

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When Grandmother Kangaroo goes for a visit,
She takes twenty teacakes, and old alarm clocks.
Her pouch could contain a tiara exquisite,
Mint toothpaste, her quilting, and pink jagged rocks.

She's never without her big key chain and cough drops.
There's even a salt shaker for when she cooks.
When Grandma the kangaroo goes for a long stop,
There's glasses for reading; she takes along books! ...

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A week ago, I rode the train
And saw a show; did not refrain
From eating out and seeing friends,
The things on which my life depends.

I’d planned a trip, was set to go,
Not knowing all that I now know.
I shopped in stores and waited for
My quilting class, which I adore.

A week ago I volunteered
But school group tours have disappeared.
So much has happened, oh, so fast.
How long, I wonder, will it last?...

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Sycamores
 are amazing trees 
 shedding bark like skin 
 removing dry and brittle layers
 to reveal new pristine smooth pale green hues. 

The bark peels and laps over 
 like a tongue languishing,,
 thirsty,, panting in the Sun 
 and layering the trunk of patchwork design
 in a fresh clean quilting. 

Hail to the Sycamores 
 standing kingly tall
 unflinchingly in the wind 
 reaching toward the sky 
 with triple crowns of leaves up high....

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She fell asleep at her sewing machine again
Don Tee Oh Tee came along with dribble on his chin
Sure he was wearing his armor it looked rusty too
Nothing about the old guy was interesting or new.

Queen of Sewingville came by showing off green threads for hair
There was a moment of expectation that most of us felt in the air.
Don tee Oh Tee was being ignored by most, but I paid attention.
Wishing it had not been so boring at this quilting convention....

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Try to pick a date to meet
A few retired friends
And find it near impossible
For everything depends…

On travel plans or visits
With the kids from out-of-town
Or babysitting grandkids
Or the dentist (for a crown)…

Or tennis games or theater tix
Or else a craft-type class
In beading or in quilting 
Or in knitting or stained glass.

How wonderful to have the time
Without a job to tether
But how complicated just to plan
A day to get together!...

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In quilting, sewing corners is
A challenge I can’t meet.
My sad attempts at mitered corners
End up in defeat.

I’m sure in every corner
Of the sewing world, there must
Be others who’ve had problems, too,
No matter how they’ve fussed.

Don’t back me in a corner, 
Surely not one I have cut,
For the corner of my eye reveals
That when I’m in a rut

The tightest corner cannot hold
Some tricks that can be learned.
Forget my sewing – to the 
Poets’ corner I’ve returned....

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My stitches aren’t even;
My squares don’t line up straight
And if you want a quilt from me,
It’s years you’ll have to wait.

Yet every Thursday, there I sit,
My needle pulling thread,
With not a thought beyond that room
Carousing in my head.

I’m calm, relaxed and in control
And while my scissors snip,
I bask in camaraderie
And crafting fellowship.

My projects hang around the house
And in my grandkids’ rooms,
But it is in my quilting class
Where my composure blooms....

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After a hiatus
Getting back to your routine
Feels both strange and yet familiar
Or more likely, in-between.

So today I took the subway
‘Cause my quilting class begins.
I’d forgotten how the crowds get,
Bumping knees and toes and shins.

But at last I reunited
With my classmates, what a treat!
And arrived in time for claiming
What I think of as “my” seat.

It’s a pleasure to return to
Someplace where you feel at ease
Though when there is a hiatus,
There can be no guarantees....

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