Short Wove Poems

Angels wove her dresses
    pirouetting 'cross the moon

  Cherubs curled her tresses
    wound 'round a golden spoon...

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If I could rein in yonder cloud

Entwine with love's ethereal rope,

'Pon gossamer, sweet Eros wove

Heaven bound, we'd gaily float

As dormant dreams of bliss, awoke....

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Summer girl has come
On the summer beach full fresh
Hot thru sunglasses

Coconut fluid
Wet The heart with juicy lips
Under the clouds boat

Far poetic words
Wove charming wave of poem
Pen soul implores love


28.08.2020 Chattogram...

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When I pulled open the bag laden with captives
Their eyes breathed a great sigh of relief
Pouring out of the bag like a plague
They scuttled off towards the freedom trail
And wove silken webs to capture their enslavers

Well, wouldn’t you?...

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Grace,
she sang
as she danced
in slow circles
her voice of rich gold
Held the babe in her arms
kissed the wet blossom-lashes
and cheeks that glowed of plum and rose
With her song of murmured tunes she wove
a coat of stories that she wrapped around....

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In retrospect I tried to lie,
To hide the thing that lives inside.
I hoped in fact that it had died,
I see now I was wrong.
 
I slipped and dipped and ducked and dove.
I slept in every crevice cove.
Just like spider webs are wove.
I journeyed ten yrs gone....

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a toast to those who wove the tunes
that so inspired in many ways
in tapestries of harmony
of marmalade and purple haze
as our cheers rang often,loud and long
our flames leapt up in highest praise
for the music of the troubadours...
ah yes,those were the days!...

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My best friend and I
Ran barefoot through the garden
Stirring the petals
Her hair tied back in two braids
Her skirt trailed out behind her

We sat by the stream
With our feet in the water
Talking and laughing
Until a pink rose I plucked
And wove it into her dark braids...

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A man awaits his end,
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire....

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Creating her artwork from silky fine thread
She carefully wove it and knew where to tread
The pattern she worked on was cleverly laid
Displaying her craft by those who had stayed
The fruits of her labour were well worth the time
For her talent in webs ensured she would dine...

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snowflakes, like

feathery fluff,

tumble

from frigid skies

spreading out like a

down duvet

feeling

snugly soft,

and yet

icy cold

to the touch,

a shroud, befitting

autumn's splendiferous

dead,

wove by winter’s hand


(Yalto)


02/28/2020...

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You listened wrapped to the moon gauze falling from my lips
the day the wars began, assassins slipping from the shadows
to stab, along the SpinnerSails woven between the Lands of Holding
in the forgotten times where our hearts are amber-bound.
It is my fault. I wove the skein. You didn’t mean to be caught unaware....

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Searching for the wings everyday 
She was full of tantrums for them
Searching for them, on her shoulders
Thought they will grow out
like her new permanent teeth
Like a pupae she wove the thread
of dreams around her
and out came a butterfly
and a girl metamorphosed
into a woman
A woman with wings
Wings of grace and beauty......

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South Pacific, Jiminy Cricket,
This world 
I tried to gain access,
I tried to write a book,
That would capture
All my happiness, 
Full of romance,
Life that was enhanced
By beauty and love,
Carousel and Disneyland,
Babycham deers 
And romantic lands,
These patterns I wove.

(Reproduced verbatim from a ditty written aged ca. 19.)...

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At the Edge of my Tears
I could weave monuments with words
(But why shall I say much NOW?)
The Hindu child within my soul
Adored weaving flower-circles of honor
(And I wove many for thee, Friend)
Jim, I know my ancestors will surrender all
Their bouquets, their marigolds, proteas - though we -
You and I, are forever in Jesus' lineage, NOW...

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Lover
Yes the love you evoke
The heart you wove
Spirit you broke

Shadow am I
Go to the Witch of Endor

In Sheol
my soul
yes my love
darkness unfolds

In Sheol
one weepeth dust
wind blows cold

Feeling is lost
struggle to breathe
seas are tossed

Was I dead my lover?
yes I believe so
the shroud my cover

You arose from death
shined love on me
I am resurrected 
was blind now I see......

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Love is something we cannot do without...
     to rove and never give or take, no doubt
creates within, a dark and empty cove...
      in sharing love, the joys of life get wove.

Hate, in contrast, must not reside within.
     To sate is poisonous and rife with sin...
a virtue that will bring us a sad fate
     when meeting God outside that pearly gate.


Sandra M. Haight...

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I NEED A NEW DRESS

Abandonment
comes in many dresses.
Fashion pain
and tattered seams.

I never believed 
that from 
old patterns torn,
that you would leave me
withered and worn.

Once you wove 
fine lace for me.
 I felt safe.
Secure.
Cherished and more.

Now years later 
after children 
and time.
You have clothed
me with nothing becoming,
 and nothing so fine...

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She recycled the flowers as they lay in their beds.
She recycled the gown in which she once wed.
She recycled her food so that others were fed.
She recycled her tires once they lost their tread.
She recycled those thoughts that were stuck in her head
and she wove them in words as they rapidly spread.
They tore thru tendons and sank in sinews, forming a
tincture of rhythm and blues....

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She accused me of beauty
And stole my heart
She painted each moment 
In delicate art
Of fine stitched fabric 
She wove a dream
Where yesterdays magic 
Again redeemed

Rising each morning 
In soft painted light
A fiery spark 
Again would ignite
A murmurous passion 
Held only for two  
Upon the stage of promise 
A loving debut

...

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In this country of one’s mind
east and west are so defined,
warring factions ne’er at peace
forked tongue steeped in caprice,
pounding within one’s brain
mental image a constant pain.
So please let one strive to rove
amongst the evergreen grove,
to a remembrance that drove
one to the rugged coastal cove,
to an interaction that wove
in one’s implicit treasure trove!

© Harry J Horsman  2012...

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The bags that sag under glassy eyes are purple
black. His face is downward drawn with pencil neck
and bow bent back. Devoid of chest a mass of thinly muscled
bone and flesh. He strokes Mary Martin at a soirée
by the garden wall. She sings lilacs to hummingbirds
as rainbows rise and fall. She whispers wonders wrapped
in riddles wove in layers, her looks, her touch, her smell,
at a soirée by the garden wall....

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Unplanting a growing garden; uprooted what is normal in conformity
Destiny wove the cloth that led you down an unpaved path to me
In the realms of free will, some paths don't cross organically
Dreams are what was once thought to be truthful wise; normality
Twisted the nightmares become lifetime cures, of thoughts allergy 
This waking vision; happier still, you were a part of my reality...

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The moonlight cast pure magic
Among summer's greenery
Floral scents filled the warm humid air
Soft petals caressed the evening breeze
Crystalline dew drops gathered on the grass
 Shimmering like millions of diamonds
Silver threads wove through the shadowed canopy
 Stars twinkled upon the heavens
The aurora's danced in sweet refrain
To the melody of earth's orb
Morning would soon salute a new day.



02/07/13...

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She still fills her housecoats
on cold nights.
The cat will always be
the shadow of her hand.
He will dwell in this home
that she wove around his recliner,
scrimshawing each thought
with her presence.
He mourns, not at the cemetery,
but from the other side
of a double bed.
He rearranges nick-knacks
by not touching anything.
He does however
place some sepia moments
in a shoe box
  she has provided....

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