Twin seams cross the skin,
Threaded paths where
smiles once lived,
Mending what was torn.
They place their storms in my shaky hands
stitched,tied and yet useful
Broken is I.
And for a while even the moon dims
no stitch is ever tied enough;
the loose threads forever stay
We are stitched things, you and I.
Torn cloth sewn by forgotten hands,
stuffed with hunger and stories,
patched with memories too fragile to last.
We are born not of wholeness,
but of need—a hunger older than bodies,
a question older than sound.
Maybe we are not beings.
Maybe we are questions sewn into skin.
Maybe the gods were not creators—
only echoes of the longing that birthed us.
When these bodies fail, when the stitches loosen,
it will not be love that survives.
It will be the hunger.
It will be the ache itself,
asking forever:
Who stitched us?
And why did they leave us empty?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One
midnight stitches join.
Mother's thimble gently clinks
her thread a silver lunar path.
cold wind rattles panes—
warmth blooms in patchwork suns.
Two
faded denim sky,
scraps of childhood's yellow dress—
geese fly south forever
in cotton-battened clouds.
snow drifts deep against the windowsill.
Three
Fingers trace the tear
where his army shirt once lived.
needle bites the dusk—
new cloth bleeds indigo stars
over mended emptiness.
To me, you were the charm handsome brings to view,
the emotional pull in touching love songs,
every dream I wished to never wake up from
and leading star of daydreams I composed, too.
Then, one day you called, spoke with a gusto-coo
to say I was someone you would love to know.
You asked me to be your date at a town dance
and I hoped my joy glow did not phone show!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We lived years tethered in joy love did construe.
I was happy and you loved happily, too,
but our love’s glory changed stories and turned dark
like your leather moods I grew to daily rue.
Time sowed memories with pain stitched by you.
I bear bruises time cleared long ago - so, know
my pain won't fade like moonlight on flower’s dew.
I live merged with pains from all we went through.
Sifting streams of gold through my hands
Sapphire strewn sands from distant lands
Lusty ambition's avaricious reach
All together rise up to teach --
Polished silver is shiny; bronze basks in the sun
But humble deeds, stitched in Heaven
Of Eternity are spun
Silently love creeps into place
casting fast shadows in the hall
that if ignored, extend their sprawl.
Cupid twirls to ambush our space.
When our quit-dreams sit unprepared,
then love commands its stand declared.
With naught to influence love’s grace,
it does seem we will never learn,
thus, love blocks our wish to discern.
Love will not move at our dreamed pace.
It stays us baffled and confused.
Our heart issues keep love amused.
Love flies high when two find embrace
so, love repeats its own story
to mesh within heights of glory.
Soft as love’s own silky, stitched lace
are thankful, joined hearts for love’s prize
as time customized to surprise.
Silently love creeps into place
cupid twirls to ambush our space.
With naught to influence love’s grace,
love will not move at our dreamed pace.
Love flies high when two find embrace
soft as love’s own silky, stitched lace.
she stitched me
in
the
middle
her mandolin
had me at suppose
it
was
an
fiddle
violen
strung rose
oh how she whittled
me strung out in the snow
her flute how it pipers me
warm enough to breathe
caught another breath
harp strung for me
her lyrics sewn
through
my
chest
she stitched me
?
Underneath my flesh
In between my back and ribs
I have a tiny scar right there
It has been double stitched
I used to give it freely away
Without thinking with my mind
Blindly just opened it up
Until it got damanged over time
Now I keep it bandaged
With my very life
Until it has time to heal
This broken heart of mine
If I choose to let you in
Let you have a peek
Be ever so gently with it
It still has tattered broken beats
Sighs yet again
a fold here,
a crease there
origami wings
that are limp,
drenched
looking pretty lonely and pathetic
under, that, crying, sky, , , ,
, , , ,
/////
It ironically fits well
into the day that is filled with cracks,
that spills into the evening----
s h a t t e r e d eggshells
that can't be beared to be buried,
only placed carefully with the dried leaves...
If only for a moment,
I keep my cradle of tears at bay,
as I let the moon do the weeping for me.
A mental tracking back
of the weeks, days, hours, minutes;
Let the scientist return to inference
Walk back to the time of hope and grief--
The dendrobium. The grasshoppers. The twisted bonsai.
Looking behind,
the footprints
are still there... . . . ..
Wash them away
with waves of laughter,
Erase all vestiges of me.
Forget I was ever here;
that should be easy
...I never meant much to you anyway
214a22801012016
This is a mash-up of sorts of several writes of mine. I stitched it up with some lines. Very rough, I know, just felt like squishing some of my writes & edits together.
A glue and a saliva
Couldn't hold the lava
The climax of the data
The core of the matter
The part of the bone more fatter
A tail and a head
Couldn't contain the bread
The daily breast
Flowing the daily breath
Sighing in wider breadths
A nail and a hammer
Couldn't spread the chips
The cellular sips
The infinitesimal whips
The silent lips
A staple and a stitch
Seemed to give the stretch
Of the deepest trench
Of the biggest wretch
Of words more than a sketch
A lady named Patricia McDuckett
Had a body shaped like a bucket.
She tried many creams
To cover her seams
But finally nipped and tucked it.
Those bars before you could've been hand stitched.
You sowed that.
The unfortunate truth but that truth doesn't own you.
I force my love, squeeze it in between the inches of space.
Don't worry just stand back and watch..it will fit.
I didn't come in with it but here it appears oozing through my fingers.
You are not what you did or didn't do.
You are whoever you've grown into right now...at this moment.
Bring me a needle,
Bring me some thread.
I'll stitch you a poem
That's never been read.
Each letter and word,
Are the thread that I'll use,
The needle, my pen,
Your devotion my muse.
As needle and thread
Sew together a seam,
My pen and my words,
Will stitch together a theme.
The theme will be love,
The words from my soul,
Stitched with great care
For you to behold.
When the last word is penned,
Like a final snipped thread,
I'll present you this poem,
Just like I said.
2/2012
Entered in Rob Carmack's Screwed !V contest
Dark cloud filled with tears
Waiting to cry over the earth
Cold chills of wind blow a faint fear
Watching, waiting, praying not to feel hurt
Silent tears drip down
Silver, untouched, before they hit the ground.
Here comes the rain
Silently I listen to that soft beat it plays
Music that soothes the pain
Whispering to me “Hush, you’ll be okay”
Forgetting the pain
Courage is born
Needles of faith sow together what was torn
Pulling myself together
I know I’ll win this fight
Hugging past memories away
As I kiss my faith stitched heart goodnight.
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