Never flush
not tight fitting
a little bit out
not quite sitting
right with the world,
I always was an odd bit of knitting,
two plain stitches instead of purled
Torn,
left wrinkled;
With a jounce they fall
an array of pieces spread,
burned
eyes;
Buttons replace cut out slits
with new perception;
Paper Dolls
stitch.
A quilt is a poem that’s been crafted
With stitches that cleverly mime
The words that a poet has drafted
In manner and rhythm and rhyme.
For in piecing a pattern together,
Every section, once stark and alone,
Must be seamlessly tailored to tether
It to others when carefully sewn
Just like adjectives, verbs and conjunctions
Plus the other unnamed parts of speech
Let the writer arrange, so their functions
Form the meanings that readers can reach.
When the final thread’s snipped from the needle
And the pencil has made its last mark,
Neither quilter nor poet need wheedle
For responses their efforts should spark.
What if the story of who we are
Has already been stitched to our soul
And it’s on you to unravel the thread
To discover the fabric of your life
Woven through the tapestry of time
All unfolding right before our eyes
Maybe our patchwork of problems
Are imprinted upon us for a reason
To help us ruthlessly reveal
Who we really have been all along
Backstitch
scratch mine
scratch thine
Straight Stitch
boring
snoring
French Knot
pie-eyed
tongue tied
Satin Stitch
glossy
bossy
Feather Stitch
ruffled
plumage
Slip Stitch
escape
artist
Fly Stitch
Help me!
Help me!
Couching Stitch
stick in
the mud
Blanket Stitch
under
cover
Stitch these painful, open wounds:
fate is something one chooses;
many faces stare and frown...
not an ounce of pity is shown!
I won't ever finish my final score,
I'm another ship stranded offshore;
I've helped other take lift their weight...
until they safely got to their gate!
Not a thankful word I got in return,
not even a handshake as a reward;
risks were a possible hundredfold...
was silence too frightful to mourn?
Stitch these painful, open wounds,
there won't be other serene days;
dreary skies reflect actual life...
they'll march and play the fife!
I'm too good, I'm too kind;
they give me the thumb down:
reason with the shrewdest mind...
keep afloat and never drown!
Stitch these painful, open wounds,
am I to blame for all the deaths?
My body was a heavy armor shield;
I can still hear that horrible sound!
Stich could not believe his sister gave him a tree!
It was the best thing ever! Whoopee! Whoopee!
I love this so much he said, Yippee Dee! Dee!
Settle down, his sister said. The tree is not free.
You have to do the laundry and make your bed.
You have to scrub your cheeks until they come out red.
You have to clean the kitchen before we can decorate.
Okay said Stitch! He ran off to do it and celebrate.
Look what you have done to my shoelaces, Fluffy!
Now that's hardly a nice thing to do.
There are things in this world, from a twig to a bone,
that are more admirably suited to chew.
I don't wish to be hypercritical, Fluffy.
You might easily have done something worse,
but there are things in this world, which, not done up,
lead one all too soon to a hearse.
If you Snitch, you get Stitch
If you snitch, you get stitch, like how the waters flow down Niagara Falls.
How many persons do you know that snitch? Snitch is not nice, and it
can be dangerous. Snitch when you are trusted can cause you to loose
your head. Snitch,and itch can get you stitch!
A stitch in time saves nine,
If you deal with problem;
You act right now than wait,
To avoid the mayhem.
Spend little time to solve
The puzzle or trouble;
Better look for result,
Don't delay, reach your goal.
Hit the mark precisely,
Wasting not the moment;
Each second passes by,
Always be diligent.
Things will get bad or worse,
If you do it later;
It will take more effort,
It will take much longer.
Today is important
To do the job so fine;
Linger not every day,
A stitch in time saves nine.
~
The power of one stitch
some may not comprehend;
though the garment is not fixed,
it is still a worthy mend.
Pull back to center of the gaping hole
what’s frayed, fragmented, torn;
one solid suture can bring new life
and fabric be reborn.
And though it seems imperfect,
it creates the perfect start to
restore what seems beyond repair,
like the shattering of hearts.
I am grateful for this golden thread;
it proves easier to cope.
In the center of my core,
one single stitch now offers hope.
~
Under a trellis of vines, quite evergreen
This elegant, old lady sits on a wooden porch,
Her veined fingers twist in graceful motion
Kneading hued threads from silken yarn;
As weaves of cross-stitch unfurl through dusk :
How in gentle calm, a floral pattern expands
Thickening its pattern through intricate craftwork ...
I watch grandmother extend those elbows
To connect the dots while loops of artistry
Begin to take shape, her eyes glimmering
Upon moonlit wind: I cuddle this kerchief, now
A prized token of her bridal gift...my heirloom.
.....................
~ New Poem ~ 2/28/2019
Cross Contest of Carolyn Devonshire
Today, like all the rest, is a time of devotion to minor goals.
Each small task, started and finished, is one more piece added
to life's patchwork pattern. Some pieces are big and bold, full
of color; others are tedious and filled with intricate designs;
others are only tiny, almost indistinguishable lines stitched
across a massive cloth.
But, all are part of a master design. And, when all the minor
goals are finished and joined to each other, life has drawn to
a close -- so that life's end is the final creation --
the finished product.
It’s A Stitch Up
I struck a match and the gas cooker did me
So a chap called Sidney gave me a kidney
I didn’t steal it and I didn’t beg
But a fellow called Clegg gave me a leg
My best mate Paul gave his left eyeball
But my uncle Jock gave nothing at all
Thanks to Steve there’s an arm up my sleeve
And the fact I can breath is hard to believe
But the praises I’ve sung cos Burt gave me a lung
Fall short of Fred Young who made me well hung
And so I thank Fred for my prowess in bed
But if it wasn’t for Ted, I’d still have no head
When I walk again I hope I will meet
The geezer next door who gave me his feet
Nobody knows who gave me my nose
But a guy up my street gave me all of his toes
Old Bobby Tutt gave me his gut
The rider from Pizza Hut gave me his butt
But how can I ever thank young Tommy Green
Who gave me his heart and his liver and spleen
But it seems all those people I never shall greet
For when the gas blew, it blew up the street.
A STITCH IN TIME
A stitch in time saves nine
It also works in just four lines
So ends the length of my little rhyme
I think four lines will work just fine
7 June 2018
For the contest sponsored by Silent One
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