#fabric
If i could weave the words of love for you on a fabric, the unending stitching of your name will be fluent in the language of my heart's rose is lighted with the devotion of your glance that is ablaze, touch me closer now, oh brooding one of the night, for I am your moon with the healing light.
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
A small piece of satin,
Held by single thread and pin.
To divest myself of it would be
To undo what has been.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 1:18 PM UTC
#(for the one who stands at the edge, where the fabric begins to fall)
She had once been known—
but only through a portrait
painted in the shades of misunderstanding.
A silhouette mistaken for substance.
A voice mimicked before it ever found
its own breath.
She knows this.
And so the chains that bind her now
are not forged of cruelty,
but memory—
a memory that clings to who she was
before she could ever choose to become.
And still, she dreams of the sunlight.
Of fabric falling, not ripped—
but released.
*Softly.
Willingly.*
In the warmth of a gaze that promises
no weight will be added
to the skin that already bore so much.
She does not want to be reclaimed.
She wants to be re-seen.
Not as the story once told,
but as the story now unfolding.
A woman not returning,
but arriving.
And if the beholder must grieve
the version of her he once adored,
so be it—
for only in that grief
can he welcome the miracle
of what is finally, freely,
and beautifully real;
and hope upon hope--
***not one of his own chains
in sight***
#
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
Two candles, side by side,
Arms of thread—their aid—
Wrapped around as they hug,
Gracious flames of burning shrug.
Two candles, side by side,
They burned and radiated light.
Hesitance grew as they stood;
They burned their thread—passionate mood.
One cried, the other raged.
Flames engulfed the fabric red.
Two candles, side by side—
A burning heart, in between, laid.
Smaller the candles grew,
Glory to the light they drew.
One burning, the other hides—
Two candles, held side by side.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 3:50 AM UTC
What is this thing called poetry?
Is it words on paper,
Lined up nicely,
Rhymes assembled tightly?
Or is it a little deeper than that,
Is poetry a feeling?
A little flutter in your heart,
An echo in the fabric of your soul.
Maybe it's a small candle spark,
Flitting in the dark,
As you sleep peacefully.
So what is this thing we call poetry?
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
She was full of such grace
That she radiated utter splendor!
Lilacs in her hair,
Violets, paeonias, and roses.
Adorn simple fabric,
The smells citrus & floral.
I loose my sextant,
My rubric,
My laurels.
In her fair sight, near eye,
Her ear offers to listen
On the thoughts that pass by.
What more could I ask for?
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 11:38 PM UTC
Winter's cotton collar is white
spring wears muslin sprigged in green
summer is floral poplin
and autumn cinnamon bombazine
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 3:59 AM UTC
there once was a tailor
who lived in a place unknown
his place was small
but i guess, it was home
he sewed clothes
for people far and wide
with nothing but a thin needle
and fabric by his side.
his job wasn't easy
he worked and worked all day
and the money it made?
well, it barely paid.
but he loved what he did,
with his stitches and thread,
so every night he would lay down
and dream happily in his bed
one day
he got a strange request
he had to make a special robe-
a golden dress.
he tried to explain
this was more than he could do
that this is impossible
but she didn't believe him- so now, he's blue
he tried and tried
but it couldn't be done.
she wanted hundreds of stitches
but he could only do one.
he felt so awful
judging many times over three
so he hung himself
on a branch of the olive tree
the woman was mad
at the tailor
she called him lazy
called him as useless as a sailor
so in the end
nobody won
she didn't get her dress
and the tailor killed himself
because that task simply couldn't be done.
and now,
the olives that come from the tree
remind everyone of him-
and what couldn't be.
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 2:17 PM UTC
I'm uploading My Dreams for Tonight.
When the Sun sets beyond the Sea.
Come forth, My Pretty Woman.
Wheresoever U may Be.
When I step into Light, next Morning.
I must feel your Warmth, on My Skin.
My Soul must brim with Happiness.
So there's a flutter in My Heart Within.
Life at times, can be a Monstrous Devil.
That may sail U on dying Streams.
Feelings are the Fabric to Our Souls,
I Fashion them out, with My Dreams.
Emotions are just like Wild Fires.
They have mystic powers to Destroy.
Sometimes they have the power to rebuild.
So U sleep, on a bed of Crimson Joy.
Oct 2, 2023
Oct 2, 2023 at 9:24 AM UTC
All of those past events
The mountain climb, and the descent
They're scrolling past to lay my
Destruction.
And once I'd gone to the other side
Despite all that I had left behind
They've started hunting for my
Salvation.
And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm torn
In the maze of my
Contortions.
And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm tearing
The fabric of my
Illusions.
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 1:24 AM UTC
there's secrets, hidden beneath the corduroy
a world of wonder
where admission varies
guest to guest,
it's a game of guess
at whether you're let in
or you're like the rest,
corduroy's the fashion though
for sure
they'll be others
that hold you high up
just to push you down under
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 4:15 AM UTC
a really bad habit to get into
is retail therapy
you know, buying things
when your mental health *****
well i've been stuck in that habit
for a while
and today after school
i went and spent sixty dollars
on things that i didn't even need
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 9:26 PM UTC
In the fabric of time exists
moonlit seas of happenstance
and rose-scented memories
sewed in with golden beads
but it seems to me that life has found a way,
to sew in worn-out frayed threads,
that have lost their silky reflection
yet you,
with your resilient skin
found a way to make
embroidered mosaics of colour
out of the dissonance between good and bad
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
You can see it in a drowned man’s eyes
In the pawn shop window I just passed
Frosty truths that come to the table uninvited
The poet and the truth
Face to face, one whistles, one listens
The napkins fill with cognitive snapshots
The poet drowns in words
Just wanting to say something
Or hear it said at all
The dying words from a poet’s mouth
Blow about in autumn color
Drifts and piles that shape the years of practice
What's worth saying has to be said by someone
So a poet goes looking and would suppose
That words rubbed together right would produce
Word museum sentences ripe with meaning
Phantasms haunting great books and minds
Torches lighting the way for all
The poet takes aim and fires
At the fog of meaning
He tugs at God’s coat tail
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC
Simply, not like
What we think of
One day
A time will come
When you will have
Everything
What can be
Touched
Seen
Smelled
That all
Once you wished for
Still
Looking around
You may crave for
Something authentic
That can
Just be felt
A reason to be
What it's all about
Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 9:34 AM UTC
Bright colors dance
Pattern of stripes
Swish and flick
Turning about now
When you turn
In motion flowing
Fabric so light
It could fly
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 7:36 PM UTC
Familiar faces in a different space
Times fabric pulled
now feeling flat
Trudging through the unknown
as fear creeps in to inhibit growth
Idle eyed to my surprise
I am not who I thought I was
A year spent in demise?
How did it become just that
The light still shines bright
even if still out of sight
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 2:52 PM UTC
We are woven in
Different fabrics.
Some may think
This makes us
Incompatable.
But when you wear me,
You'll see that we
feel good together.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC
his words are stitched
into the fabric of her soul.
her smile is here to stay.
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 11:08 PM UTC
Unroll me
Like a bolt of fabric
Inspect the weave of my pores.
I am a tapestry
Of tattoos
Freckles
And scars.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:34 AM UTC
Ride through my veins, driven by your cruelty and anger
Leave me nothing, but those shadows and dark places,
You were afraid to touch, afraid to enter,
As my broken hands clenched red fabric,
Twisted it ‘round as whispered screams echoed.
The cracks though my being, held together by silken webs.
A rough touch enough to break me and scatter,
My mirrored reflection towards the stars.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Your my want
My need
Why I breed
Can I feed
I smell you from afar
The natural kindling you are
Come to the sky for me
From up here we can have a view
Lovers below me then you
Naked skies surprise
Another word of the wise
When I find love we will not die
No one can ever take my love
As we catch a glimpse the sky above
Our love like a woven fabric
Together we blanket the naked sky
Our love can make us fly
Forever running from the question why
Naturally we begin to dance
Sending both of us in a trance
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC