Her three tall masts pierce through the gray,
Where swells of sapphire rise and fall;
She rides the deep in grand display,
Answering the high sea's wild, cold call.
Her canvas full, each sail blown tight,
Stretched firm beneath a heavy breeze,
She carves her way with graceful might,
Across the rolling, restless seas.
With rhythmic ease, the waters swell,
And lift her dark frame toward the sky,
While white-capped crests surrounding tell
Of rolling deeps as she glides by.
From high atop the crow’s nest railing,
A lookout spots gray shadows near—
A pod of whales, majestic, sailing
Beside the hull without a fear.
At helm stands Captain Jack, steadfast,
His weathered hand upon the wheel,
Reflecting on her storied past
And every seam of iron and steel.
Born in the fires of sea-bound lore,
Rebuilt from ash, reclaimed from fate,
The Black Pearl haunts the coast once more,
A ghost of legend, proud and great.
Time may heal wounds,
but you heal life.
No medicine, no exercise—
just your words, your love.
Like a needle leading thread
through the skin,
your love pains me,
yet defines my life.
My eyes may bleed,
my mouth run dry,
but your love and touch
satisfy my heart,
filling my world with dreams.
Every moment of tears, pain, and sacrifice
brings my broken pieces together.
After you bow to say sorry—
eyes on me, arms around my waist—
I cannot avoid the pain of having you,
because it comes with living hope.
My body is ready, skin to heart,
for your heartbreaks.
I need them for my soul
to mend, to heal,
to stitch your heart to mine.
THIS QUILT
This quilt a kaleidoscope of
corduroy colours
a struggle to even
out lucid lovers
cotton wool lies in
bumpity flats
I unravel thread
just like that cat !
Stitches are too loose or tight
corners say alright, so blight
while mantras race in light
“THE GRACE OF
IMPERFECTION TIGHT ” !
So like my country of carnivals
which takes too long in its winter
silent squares want to sing
songs of black swans to bring
Quilt quiet queenly comely !
Can I commence a new project ?
another challenging
lesson to learn
fingers ache sore
sessions to earn
this quilt into deep
sheep sleep
forlorn, forlorn
I dream of yellow
corn !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2016
The winter storm in me blows me away,
from the beautiful spring that awaits,
The pensive rain showers on me,
than the warmth of the Sun,
Darkness in my life overshadows the light
Those pensive scars,
in my pulsating heart,
never heal,
bruising me over and over again.
Stitches undone,
I'm bleeding again,
This is my Life, My life Re-defined.
Stitches
A wound, deep and wide.
Gaping, Ragged, Bleeding...
Cover with the cloth of
False Smiles.
Cover with the cobweb gauze of
Empty Sympathy.
Clamp it shut with fingers of
Chemical Laughter.
Hold it together with shaky hands of
Liquid pain relief.
A wound, deep and wide ...
Remains.
A wound,deep and wide
Gaping, Ragged, Bleeding...
Clean with
Love.
Stitch together with
Truth.
Soothe with the
Balm of Gilead.
Anoint with
Oil.
Healed....
A reminder of grace.
Stitches
A wound, deep and wide
Gaping, Ragged, Bleeding
Cover with the cloth of
False Smiles
Cover with the cobweb gauze of
Empty Sympathy
Clamp it shut with fingers of
Chemical Laughter
Hold it together with shaky hands of
Liquid pain relief
A wound, deep and wide
Remains.
A wound,deep and wide
Gaping, Ragged, Bleeding
Clean with Love
Stitch together with Truth
Soothe with the
Balm of Gilead
Anoint with Oil
Healed reminder of grace
I’ll never forget the beauty of
a stare unabashed and
unwelcome in its own right
The public spaces in which
my mind unravels
from cords pulled tight
against hollow lobes
The centipede that stitches them both
together in the fading light with
tiny purposeful arrogant unwavering
masterful steps one at a time
With no guiding notion
other than grooves in the bark
of twisted branches
Though that very well could be enough
If you can’t stand the criticism
put down your pen
Instead take up knitting
but caution the thread
Too thick and your stifled
too thin and your bare
As needles purl over
—what hides in despair
(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)
Where can home be found,
when mother can’t pick up the phone?
I follow her in patchwork,
until I see her brilliance,
once again, in heaven.
happiness wrap me in a queen-sized quilt,
with love’s vagabond stitches
and perfect peace of mind.
I’m like a wandering gypsy without
a home
still, my dad
does care for the sick.
The exchange, of my mom’s compassionate
and push-away arms and
her plum-personality,
for my dad’s smile.
I get all wrapped up in that, too -
the even, zigzag stitches, like glue.
3/29/2022
Rage shatters the heart
One are now two
Separates warmth
Bloods cold blue
Battered long before
This but he knew
Then why did I adore
He with whom I grew
Greatly did I give
For granted it was took
Admission hid behind
In his charismatic look
Cherished love behold
The place I carry he
Alive within my soul
Toxic as can be
Tongue lashes without care
Removing every stitch
Emotionally bare
Drained by every switch
True love was once the claim
If ever that were true
Sewing broken peices
Was all he had to do.
Alive within my soul, toxic as can be
His words remove the stitches, that kept my heart a beat
True love was once the claim, if ever that were true
Sewing broken pieces was all he had to do
She was a jolly seamstress Miss Gritches
Who was a whiz at patchin' men's britches
And alterin' ladies skirts
And sewin' buttons on shirts
'Twas said she kept her patrons in 'stitches'
The tongue, the tooth or today,
Or then, the gaze with memories and sweat,
Left of the misery, the haze, or the blurred set,
The thoughts tied to the codes for the day,
The tongue, the tooth or the say today.
The better character to talk of for casuals,
Worth the keep, the dialogues and perusals,
Mirrored in own self, the beauty and remarks,
The hidden in phrases and in own consciousness,
The tongue, the tooth or the say today.
Or then the two extremities in own terms:
The miserable with pain and scolded for no ideas,
Devoid of the grudges, the determinate of times today,
The definitely egoed and tongued for them disappointments,
Or then, the strange attachment with catchment on all ends,
The tough tongued, the tooth or the acting today.
The back to back travels in stitches and toughness,
The foul tongued and today's writing in the wilderness.
my shoe shot into the air
like fireworks — polished black
my sailor-sock in shock
Japanese sailors in stitches
3/6/2020
Find Glitches In Stitches
In everyone and thing, we find glitches,
So God will gladly help us sew stitches,
And a dirty deal,
Does not appeal;
God likes keeping minds out of ditches.
Jim Horn
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