Threads Poems

Threads on Mended Seams

On edge of crevasse
splitting the whole from broken
I waver between—
weaving to escape phantoms
longing for where I belong

I mask all my scars,
with smiles etched on hollow masks
yet memory bleeds
too whole to join the broken
too fractured to pass as whole

To love life anew
to re-forge and re-ignite
requires confession
to those entrenched in shadows
that death now terrifies me

On the mended

Threads of Quiet

Written: August 23, 2025, for contest by Brian Strand

        **********

Saffron swirled silence

Killick Dream Threads

For you, I carry heavy issues difficult to bear;
varied themes with bleary depths as carved by you.
You want me to dismiss all darkness you name light,
to secure your pride’s weight in my ocean of shame
and declare aloud your behooved truths are priceless.
There are no limits to all that you diminish
in me when holding me immobile

THREADS OF WHIMSEY

THREADS OF WHIMSEY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
threads of whimsy doth
weave
the fabric of today
while
time twists the yarns of
yesterday

I am a woman, and at dawn, I weave wings of light from threads of dreams

I am a woman, and at dawn, I weave wings of light from threads of dreams,
I step on paths of desires, wearing ribbons of living hope in my hair,
I wonder how many stories will cling to my dancing steps,
How many tears I'll hide beneath words that scatter in deep silences.
I am a mother, sister, lover,

I love to create your story in words, like a dream woven from threads of light and desire

I love to create your story in words, like a dream woven from threads of light and desire,
As if it was and is no more, a fairy tale brought to life under the pen of time flowing gently,
I turn you into a beloved fairy tale hero, with a happier ending where our love is eternal

Tapestry of Broken Threads

Sometimes I wake, at least believing I have, 
but find that I'm wandering about, 
perhaps dreaming while walking in a mist, 
through empty halls where moonlight 
doesn't stream through windows on walls.
I'm alone in lush jungles of canopied forests, 
and bathing in pools behind waterfalls.

It's a strange realm of a juxtaposing existence
where my words and

I wear my dress like a canvas of dreams woven from threads of the moon

I wear my dress like a canvas of dreams woven from threads of the moon,
as if my porcelain skin had never been touched by shadows,
as if you hadn't taken me to the back of a car, a temple of secrets,
as if you hadn't possessed me like an elixir flowing through a thirsty soul.
I wear my

In the vast tapestry of life, where thoughts weave threads of untamed dreams

In the vast tapestry of life, where thoughts weave threads of untamed dreams,
we move like wandering stars through galaxies of happenstance,
seeking directions in the random constellations of existence,
where reason unravels in waves of mist and fleeting light.
Philosophies are maps drawn on the sands of time,
promising us islands of certainty in the endless ocean of doubt,
but

Threads of Time

one thread
                      unravels
              quietly
        from the cuff
       

Threads of the Nether

Corrosion seeps into a floundering mind,
Disembodied memories unbind.
Set free, lacerating into a trembling spine,
Threads of a soul spill, taunting it’ll never be fine.

Abandon the white-knuckle grasp you have on sanity;
You’ve become perverse, a mere profanity.
Watch as we dismantle your facade of vanity,
Swept away on sulphur winds with any remaining humanity.

Stripped bare, exposing inner turmoil beneath,
Into

Threads of Thoughts

Threads of Thoughts

threads of thoughts 
ever trail my mind
as a companion
 that never leaves me lonely
as I stroll along
the corridors of life 
in the stillness of solitude
in the midst of the multitude
at the break of dawn
during sunshine of the day
in the dim shadows of twilight
 and darkness of night
as a moment without thought
I cannot be

In the depths of the mind, where thoughts weave like threads of an ancient tapestry

In the depths of the mind, where thoughts weave like threads of an ancient tapestry,
I wonder why women, like comets piercing the night sky,
Are more intriguing to men than men are to them.
Perhaps they carry unknown galaxies in their eyes, realms of dreams and mystery,
Each of their smiles is an enigma, an untold story waiting

Under the night sky, stars weave a mantle with shimmering silver threads

Under the night sky, stars weave a mantle with shimmering silver threads,
Thoughts carry me into the enchanted forest, where trees whisper stories,
Shadows dance to the rhythm of the wind, singing a melody forgotten by time,
A symphony of silence, each note a dream shattered by the light of dawn.
Rain falls like a silk veil over the

Silver Threads

The wind billows the trees with god-forsaken draft,
And rinses the limbs with splashes of rain.
Zephyr's raging bluster brings forth storm's chaotic craft,
Blowing silver threads to new starts again.

Sailing without order, the threads land where they may----
On fence, on plants, on a patio chair.
The small spiders, thus carried, will emerge in a day, 
And crawl past

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