#embroidery
Wish to fulfill well-wishers’ wish,
now can’t fulfill one’s own.
The vessel whispers—
trapped within;
an unwanted creature,
copper-veined in gold.
Those embroidered alloys
hold emerald emotions,
a curve so divine,
now doomed in rust—
a ghost glimpsed in grey hair
A slave to the endless rat race life .
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:07 AM UTC
I know that there was a line that I sewn upon my skin
Thread made of emotions that I couldn’t hold on to
They slipped and slid and came out of my grasp
And if I tried to lock them away, they’d easily undo the clasp
I sit at a wheel, my finger at a thorn,
Spinning roses, and flowers, and threads for toys
If I can create something, something to be kept,
Would I someday find these things again and learn to accept?
Or would the thread someday fade and unwind behind the scenes
Undoing in the corners, ripping the seams
Things like these, I know, weren’t meant to last forever
They were meant to be loved, cared for, watched, and maintained.
But if I cannot move myself from this bed,
And catch the hands of the monster speaking in my head
Would I be able to learn how to thread the eye of the needle
So I could learn to love again?
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 11:45 AM UTC
A drop of beauty spot
a black mole
or a cool shady sketch
on the golden brow
of a sunny day.
The evening is always
welcome at the end.
The night from off site
pops on her way
however pitch dark
weaving even more black
across that kohl-pollen
embroidery
a sky full of stars
will keep an open eye!
Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
I do narrate a colored craft,
Like your embroidery,
Unlike a left unfinished draft,
To continue my sad story.
I'll give a letter meant for you,
Who's woven with a thread,
Without a touch but scent for you,
While still, will you then read?
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
White gauzy smoke is blown through the lily,
Floating on air,
Fondling leaves and dewdrops who're glittery,
A view so rare.
On a picture elegance is enjoyed,
A Polaroid,
Presented in a silver-gallery,
Who's gloomy ne'er.
With gauzy threads from a silky cocoon,
White as the moon,
Lily-hands craft blooming embroidery,
With flowers there.
Like gossamers this elegance's tender,
Lit and slender,
Shining at the afternoon silvery,
Which does not flare.
O Mâhî, this form is a web of rhymes,
Who slowly chimes,
With threads we're finally stitching poetry,
Crafted with care.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 6:44 AM UTC
Searing pain,
Flaring,
Pins and needles.
Pinch
Gone
Pinch
Gone
Pinch
Never ending cycle
Of stitching,
Like horrid embroidery
Embedded in my skin
That will forever be
Tattooed
Against my bones
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
When love hits two people
It's far beyond their capacity
It's not a choice.
Like God, bored in his kingdom,
Ordered the angels
To stitch them together
As one piece of fabric
Through thick and thin.
Then the Devil, jealous of such union,
Does his best to set them apart again.
He tries loosening the threads,
Uses scissors to rip them.
He even makes little unnoticeable holes
Just to damage the cloth.
But they must be smart
They must see through his villain attempts
At spoiling the embroidery of love
God sewed on the cloth of their heart.
They must resist.
Sometimes they do
Sometimes they don't.
F.Z.N
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC