#threads
Today she stands where frost takes hold,
Draped in defiance, untouched by cold.
A dress of white with blooming flowers,
Quiet rebellion stitched through winter hours.
The air bites sharp in steely gray,
Yet she wears spring without dismay.
While heavy coats weigh down the street,
She walks like sunlight dressed in heat.
Is winter real if hearts still sing?
Perhaps her soul alone is spring.
With every step, her courage grows
A secret garden through the snow.
And all who pass her start to see
That seasons bend where dreamers dare to be.
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 2:55 AM UTC
— a west wind whisper, a salt-soaked song —
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
Zephyrs…
they dance
upon the waves—
not gently, no…
but alive
stirring
salty sprays into the air
like laughter
you didn’t know you needed
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
Look—
zigzagging seagulls
cutting through sky-script
sharp, hungry, free
no maps
no limits
just instinct
and wind
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
And the light—
the way it fractures
across the water…
zigzags of sun
scattered gold
on an endless blue
while beneath—
dolphins
flash
zooming joy
through the deep
like living arrows
of purpose
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
Listen…
the zephyrs
they whisper
to tides
to time
to everything that comes
and goes
and at night—
a billion… no…
zillions of stars
spill themselves
across the sea’s wide breath
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
Somewhere—
Zanzibar…
a shoreline that exhales peace
palm trees preening
in slow, sunlit vanity
sand kissed
again
and again
by wandering wind
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
And music—
can you hear it?
not played…
but carried
zithers in the breeze
notes stitched into salt air
while far off—
yachts drift
like unfinished dreams
hovering
between horizon and hope
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
The sails—
they lean
they listen
guided
not by force
but by feeling
by that same zephyr
returning softer now—
a lullaby
tucking the ocean
into night
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
But don’t be fooled—
the cliffs still stand
jagged
zigzagged
unyielding
and the waves—
they crash
with zest
with fury
with forever in their lungs
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
And somehow—
in all that chaos
there is…
zen
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
because the sea—
it is wild
it is restless
it is endless
and still…
it knows
how to hold
a moment
of peace
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
and I—
I stand here
salt in my breath
wind in my bones
watching
listening
belonging
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
because this—
this zealous
roaring
whispering
living thing—
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
this sea…
is
mine to adore
… L ☁︎ ~~~ J …
By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 5:05 AM UTC
Threads,
What are they?
Threads of Life,
Threads of Poetry,
Threads of Love,
Threads of anguish,
Which one are you?
And which one am I?
In our lives,
We all have roles to play,
Even in other people's lives.
What if the role to play in my life isn't what you want?
What if the role to play in your life isn't what I want?
Can we change Threads?
Can we change Fates?
Can we surpass Destiny?
Can we defy the will of Heaven?
Maybe?
Maybe not?
How strong is your zeal?
How far are you willing to go?
Maybe your thread is meant for you and you should accept it?
Maybe your thread can be upgraded?
Or maybe just accept it.
What do you think?
At the end, it's all up to you.
I hope you make the right choice,
And not go after what's not yours,
Or destroy your life comparing and chasing when you have all you need.
Dec 12, 2025
Dec 12, 2025 at 6:03 PM UTC
A feeling not an anxiety,
Lies in every living soul,
But has trapped mine too.
My pen; non stop writing,
Something now about this feeling,
Joining some symbols; but to my wonder,
Formed itself a chaos,
Which seemed as confusing as a puzzle,
But soon a thread started forming,
Bringing some words, then sentences,
And finally a story,
That ended as soon as it started,
Of the chaos lying in my heart,
An untold story of a feeling called chaos...
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 11:11 PM UTC
I was always at the precipice—
between my sanity and my own chaos
They said, we were connected by a thread, and all of the events around us is not a momentary scene nor from nowhere.
Threads connect the dots, entangled through the hands of a lover, and it treads a path where it can come back to you.
your ghost will haunt you back more than your old rags and ***** laundry. crows will haunt you down like a bounty.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 7:23 AM UTC
we're all just hanging on
A could go any day
R's already tried
so have i
but every thread
is different
and sometimes our threads get
tangled
if A goes,
what happens to K?
if L goes,
what happens to G?
if they go
can my thread break too?
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:46 PM UTC
When no songs can find you soothe you bind you
When no strings are played, when all chords are laid
In front of you aside
Ripped out
next to the heart
The heart that once was warm
That pumped so fluidly with every tune
The heart that so easily reached for tears that so easily cried
Where art thou
Heart vanishing now
It's there in a glance it's at the end of the road too
That music which was its local tune all too
Empty vacuum
Seeking threads
Old threads
New threads
The thread
Red thread
Gold thread
Ooo the existential squeeze without the heart & music art
I fray all too easily
All too easily I fray
…
I am crushed by the dichotomy
The inevitability of impulse when the heart does one show
The Sagacity of moment that lines the myelin shock
The Flushing Inebriation with an exhale catching up
The Sobriety & Disparity & Liquidity of What Is Good
I Need not reconcile & Yet I cannot abstain from impulse
It is a cycle that never knows resolution
A whip with no absolve
Jan 19, 2025
Jan 19, 2025 at 5:42 PM UTC
These loose strings that i find no use of
Should i cut them free
Or sew them tighter.
For what’s next i seek no attention to
For what’s hidden, was never meant to see through.
Billions and still counting…
For the absence it was never bothered of,
Unknown reasons the night had howled for.
Forced nightmares out of the dreamy eyes,
The eyes that never could seem any light from,
Or had it even wished to seek any..
After the eclipse it was forced to see through and the new moons it had to weep through.
Dec 15, 2024
Dec 15, 2024 at 5:13 AM UTC
When threads of someone's life have been tightly woven together with yours for so long
You will find that it is impossible to unravel them without at least one's world falling apart
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
the desk drawer was open, extending an invite,
cheap blue handle scissors, easy see, on top,
robbed of excuses, went around the house, all my
personal goods, mission oriented, trimming away
loose threads wherever they were hiding in my life
no expert in love, for sure, but struck by you people
linking love and dying, over and over, like they are
hyphenated, siblings, separated twin children, that
long to communicate, checking each other out on the
internet anonymously, cause these two linked in ways
not understood, loosely tied, a threaded linkage, can you
please explain?
(mysterious)
is loved only fully realized,
when it phoenixes?
burnt, slowly agonizing,
arisen, resurrecting,
is it one cell endless
dying, re-splitting?
Paul calls,
asking:
“and you wonder why we, why you,
why I am still crazy after all these years?”
12:04am
Wed Sep 9
plague year
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 8:33 AM UTC
Something inside is
It's almost going to
There aren't words for the pull
about to Snap
Unknown explosion
Without explanation
Not sure how to loosen the threads
it's Breaking
What to do
Who's taking the bullet
My fault my bomb it doesn't turn off
sorry
It's going to hurt me
more then it already hurts you
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
the threads connecting us
to our loved ones
need to stay strong
like spider's silk
to survive this battle.
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 9:05 PM UTC
i left that place,
called home and haven
and a piece of me broke off.
lost, in the disarray of moving
leaving untethered threads
in the empty space
of that safety
i feel the ghost of its presence
moving through the halls.
fading laughter, greetings,
remnants of the warmth that used to envelope me when i crossed the threshold
blindly, grasping at air
i search for the piece
i once had, in silent wishes
and hopeless longing
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 12:14 AM UTC
quills unburdened cuts
small as threads
some words are better left undone
then said
little by little
day by day
but for paper they’re scars
that won’t fade away
each beat is stained
flowing with ink
but it goes more unnoticed
than you think
even if they try to mend those
they seep through
papers pages will never
be brand-new
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
Told you my deepest regrets
Then you let them get swept in the wind
Trusted you with those secret moments
You showed me love that was only pretend
It was over long before it began
Should have seen from the start
Ignored my instincts like a fool
Handed you my heart
Somehow kept me frozen in place
Throughout hurt and dishonesty
Despite the tears, fights, long nights
Believed we were meant to be
Thought the pleasure was worth the pain
Was ready to settle for what little you gave
Realized there was hope for inner peace
Though your soul was already too gone to save
Tried all the ways I knew how
To teach you how to turn around
I was too late, your fate since promised
To shadows to which you are bound
I tried to fight demons off
But was battling them alone
Gave every bit of strength I have
Unable to win the war on my own
The silhouettes ailed your soul
Blackness was all you could feel
Dug the dirt out to your center
So deep could never fully heal
Tried to remain standing upright
Counting stars to keep sane
Mapping paths of wild constellations
Scattered across walls of my eager brain
Brightest always burn out fast
Leave traces fading in the sky
Was hard to see past your sparkling surface
Guess I didn't really try
Lost control of persistent thoughts
Failed to mark accurate score
Until your games blurred together
And we weren't certain who was winning anymore
Rules no longer held weight
Meaningless numbers displayed on a page
Order and sense went out the window
We started expressing our rage
Ounces of emotion littered about
The universe and galaxy
Testament to the immensity of our love
Time-tested passion simple to see
We lost important items
Burned to ash and sand
Slashed into scraps of fabric
Left to gather what remained with hands
Each came with a seperate story
To onlookers was all the same shade of red
Neither of us the villian
Could have made better choices instead
Every morning faced new failures
Took awhile to see we werent meant to be
Though apart I still feel threads of you
Your bones woven with strands of me
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
(strike while the iron's hot,
else...up prize cold hard steel Goldfinger
rewind: the following case in point).
Believe me you (stranger out there
along the information super highway),
perhaps feeling comfortably numb,
which I (personally experiencing futility)
vainly searching for Nirvana) attest
to be more appealing that flounder
(like a Phish out of roe jeers waters),
this Pink Floyd wannabe (actually live
ving an absurd existence as an A1 Deep Purple
People eater among a Band of *******
oft times doth Abandon All Hope, when
this close (a hare's breath - imagined
by thumb and index finger nearly touching)
pinching that elusive Golden Silence),
when in the throes (up raised hands
signifying Abhorrent success) hopelessly
striving to summon forth a measly poetic
creation only to Rage Against The Machine
(Ablaze In Hatred) horridly glomming fruit
less endeavor, (a far cry approximating A
Blue Ocean Dream) extremely at wits end tide
feeling the painful impact re: classic mind
paralysis vis a vis Abnormyndeffect (whereat
most diagnoses an Abomination at best,
(strongly resembling, and easily mistaken
for gingerly feigning good knight two step
A BoogieWit da Hoodie), thus mental health
specialists advocate best ditch writer's block
as an Aborted effort gone south (by About a Mile),
yea...Just Above The Golden State (The Ruins),
when...with a whoosh A Canticle for Leibowitz
manifests and Jethro Tull appears waving a
magic wand while issuing Abracadabra birthing
from out The Breach of Silence inspiration met
with immediate backlogged literary juices, and
sudden Abrogation viz A Broken Silence, where
what appeared as a budding **** fantastically
heralded breakout New York Times best seller
collapses into a Uriah Heap of absentmindedness
twisting within psychic wind Abysmal Grief pain
full Acceptance of Absolute Zero literary talent
with strong considerations for an Accidental
Suicide Usher red via shocking the body electric
with maximum AC/DC self selected Act of Violence
deadening this once Acute Mind eve vent chilly Beck
conning Adam and the Ants, the Addiction Crew, and
most Petty full Heartbreaker i.e. A Death in the Family
unexpectedly engendering A Different Breed of Killers
who (Like the House of The Rising Sun nemesis),
essentially a Phoenix villa fied Gorgon Twisted Sister
faintly resembling a cross between Golgotha, Adolescents,
and Adonis, when...Who should appear A Dozen Furies
hence fomenting A Dream Too Late, Adultery admonished
by an Adult Mom with a doctorate in Advanced Chemistry,
and physiology of A Few Good Men inexplicably trans
forming into A Flock of Seagulls After Dusk matter of
fact After Forever leaving an Afterglow Against Time,
a veritable Air Supply ample enough to solve every
Algebra problem posed by Alice Cooper easy enough
to solve by average Alleycats, Stray Cats and Also Eden.
I hope you enjoyed Altered Images (ideally while in an
Altered State) Among the Oak and Ash during A Month
of Somedays assigning Amorphous Androgynous (A Pale
Horse Named Death) naysaying A Positive Life!
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
Entangled thoughts hang him
between the realms
of reality.
The fine thread
that he hangs between,
the themes of life and imagination.
Soon to cocooned within comfort
of there reflections.
life or death between stands.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
Driven energy,
Understanding silence
Familiar wavelength
With sympathetic threads
Invisible bond
A sense of prospective,
A fate of inclusion,
Synergy of trust
Moment of warmth
Bridge of communication
Law of equanimity
Seizing a moment
With a Joy without an end
Adventure of being alive
Worth of human connects
Celebrating a new time.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
Faith made perfect
Those golden threads of Love
woven
through our days
of joys
and sorrows.
Cynthia Jean
8.23.2017
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Truth is the word
That we’ve always
embroidered
Onto my pillow
But instead
It’s that I’ve never had
Enough knowhow
To sew my
Secrets anywhere
Except the
Soft, pin-cushiony
Pink of my lips
It is always you
With truth shears in
The hand you’re always
Extending
That sets them
Free
To fly and
Find light
Your work on
Our tapestry
With little fingers
And quiet tenderness
That many
Will never
Feel
Your vision
Of our bigger picture
Unravels before me
Making more sense
With Every stitch
When I leave my
Heart
In places so
Cold
You help me
Pull strings
To drag me back
To myself
You remind me
That my fabric is
Fragile and
Precious,
But never to fear
Cutting away
What no longer
Fits
Being Raggedy Ann
Always comes with
Its share
Of loose threads
And I’m forever
Thankful
That you
Tie them,
Hands un-judging
In knots
As intricate
And beautiful
As your soul.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
*The closer to christmas the more chaos
We get wrapped up in making treats and buying gifts and watching movies*
*We wish the days would fly faster and get to the 25
but each day belongs to be treasured and not be rushed and thrown away
And strewn across the floor forever forgotten *
*And by the time you try to remember a detail of the day
*It is gone in a wise since you rushed through it not caring about the details or the small things
*Time is precious like fine china but weaves a web finer than human eye can see
Don't let it slip through your fingers for the dice our rolled the moves are played
The people are moved coming closer to the end
*Don't rush through life in hustle and bustle for enjoying the small things *in life are truly pleasures *
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
How can it be
that you can have everything
and still want more?
Am I greedy when I ask
"is there anything else?"
How can it be
that the ties of friendship
can be undone?
Are they not elastic?
Aren't they impervious
to the ever-shifting sands of time
that weather meeker men
down to disassociated
piles of dust?
How can it be
that you can plant roots
that spread and intertwine themselves,
seemingly immune to any upward motion,
just to pluck them from the ground
that nurtured them for years
and place them somewhere
unlike anything they've ever known?
How can it be
that the world can hold so many secrets
and yet our instincts tell us
to discover the truth?
No secret was ever discovered
by trusting a single source;
like the threads of a dream-catcher,
we entangle ourselves in multiple realms
to capture what we seek.
I don't know which face means more:
the smiling ones
that coax me into song, and folly,
and memories as precious as time,
or the one blemished with melancholy
as it stares back at me
knowing there's so much more.
How can it be
that we have an imagination
as wide as the universe,
and yet we never dare
to find the borders?
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC