How do you stitch a shattered soul mirrored in cracked reflections?
Friends arrive too late, armed with needles,
once the bleeding has stilled,
sewing memories into a cloth of loss—
stitched of sorrow, wearing grief's heavy gold,
as if it were a crown above the stillness of the dead—
enthroned in hollow solitude.
Thoughts twist like barbed wire,
fences no soul dares to breach;
pull too hard, and silence unravels,
screaming into the void,
a cacophony of isolation dances in shadows.
Death tugs at these frayed seams,
slowly unspooling me—
thread by thread, each strand a whisper
of what once was, every knot a reminder
of the horror nestled within.
Categories:
stitching, death, death of a
Form: Free verse
Memory weaves a thread through time’s embrace,
Soft whispers linger in each fleeting day,
Yearning binds the heart to love’s old place,
Entwining souls where shadows softly stray,
Echoes stitch the past in tender grace,
Ever threading life’s unending play.
Categories:
stitching, family, friendship, hope, love,
Form: Rhyme
mountain ridges of clouds
o'er my windshield spread
interspersed, baby-blue patches
brilliant spaces, like threads
stitching skies' stories together
a hobbled glance ahead of
cars tethered to a
snarled, honking freeway,
blustery rage moving in, I dread
Categories:
stitching, anger, blue, car, sky,
Form: Free verse
For decades I had spun the yarn
in hopes someday she would incarn.
Gown bejeweled, with eyes of gold,
a figure trim with movements bold.
She looked among the threads I had thrown
and tossed them on the cobblestones.
Then plucking each strand with measured flare,
she caste her stitches in the air.
She bound my dreams within each stitch
securing each with a weaver’s hitch.
She stitched my heart with tender care
to hold the strength, she had ensnared.
Categories:
stitching, art, heart, heartbroken, imagery,
Form: I do not know?
Jump off the grand canyon,
and push the Rocky Mountains to the East
and see the tiger roar in the green jungles of India
and the lion is sleeping in Africa,
the birds are at my window singing.
She lay there quiet and sad,
pale at heart and weak in the knees and joints,
rusting from the rain.
I sit there smiling
and I hold her in my arms and sing to her,
and she stitches up her broken heart,
with the lovely song I sung along with the peaceful,
little birds along with the stiching of her lonesome heart.
... her heart is not so lonely now...
I sit there, with her in my arms
she is smiling and singing
and we kiss the dark twilight away
and see the birds fly away in the sunset
and we stay there in the room full of stiched up hearts
and peaceful music.
...her heart is not so lonely now...
12/3/13
Categories:
stitching, beautiful, happy, heart, kiss,
Form: Free verse
The shoe I wear it pinches
The cot where I lie it aches
And when I walk on the road
I stumble upon by potholes.
Still I walk on with
Aching foot and aching back.
The opportunities I found,
it slipped
The desires I made,
I ejected.
The dreams I dreamt,
it vanished.
Upon my head a blue sky
Beneath my feet the ground,
I believe -
Heaven and hell you make
With your deeds.
I raced with time but
I'm left far behind
Will no one lift me up.
So from today -
I'm stitching
my torn and patched life
with the needle of a new day and
the thread of Hope.
Categories:
stitching, change,
Form: Free verse
I would like to mend yours and our life into a single stetch.
Into that of dreams impossibles but moment of memories.
Times of love and desires passions burning from inside.
Our souls craving each others emotions and our thoughts run wild.
Wanting to touch your curves I feel your skin lightly.
My fingers, the tingles you find yourself twitching to.
My lips at tug of you gently as I kiss your neck with authority.
You feel my control as I caress you and tease you.
That of love's devotion I give to you all of my being.
By my heart, I give to you for life to care for.
Categories:
stitching, beauty, care, emotions, love,
Form: Narrative
I would like to mend yours and our life into a single stetch.
Into that of dreams impossibles but moment of memories.
Times of love and desires passions burning from inside.
Our souls craving each others emotions and our thoughts run wild.
Wanting to touch your curves I feel your skin lightly.
My fingers, the tingles you find yourself twitching to.
My lips at tug of you gently as I kiss your neck with authority.
You feel my control as I caress you and tease you.
That of love's devotion I give to you all of my being.
By my heart, I give to you for life to care for.
Categories:
stitching, beauty, care, emotions, love,
Form: Narrative
Olivia spent four hours a day ignoring her huff,
she stitched her dress by hand since there was no sewing machine;
why did she choose a green color to honor a monarchic regime,
or was it undying hope to sustain her lonely life?
Her sweetheart had gone to invade Russia expecting delusion;
was Napoleon Bonaparte to blame for her sorrow and trepidation?
Would Philippe return to France and marry her in Notre Dame's Cathedral at daybreak?
Would she wear her laced green dress even though he would die in a violent snowdrift?
Olivia stitched and stared at The Arch of Triumph from her wide window,
dreaming of seeing her sweetheart walk beneath it with that soldier's pride,
making all Parisians hail him as their hero as every cathedral's bell would chime...
she would be the happiest belle wearing that green dress in the crowds below.
Only one hundred thousands soldiers returned to France, many died on Russian soil:
tattered, deluded and defeated, they crossed the Seine River without a chant...
Napoleon's imperial plan had failed: heart-wrenching was the death toll;
Olivia's face was drenched in desperate tears...imagine her discontent!
Categories:
stitching, hope, love, passion, war,
Form: Rhyme
life is like cloth
your life exceeds until
you miss a stitch and something goes wrong
so you live your life
now and forever
sewing ife one stitch at a time.
Categories:
stitching, life,
Form: Free verse