Widow McFarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom i
A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope o'erlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Spinning Threads
Spin the threads of
life
creating a golden
tapestry.
Weave together love
and memories,
how it was yesterday.
Being woven together
on the loom of life.
Spin threads of gold
and silver,
to make a tapestry
of delight.
Spin the threads of
gold,
spin the events of
life.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mama
Behind every life a Weaver ultimately
stands shrouding His plan for every man.
Dark threads are needful in the Master's
skillful hands for He knows the pattern He has planned.
What tapestry in mama's heart He wove, the
sacrifice self was decomposed. Love was
her goal, to train me up in ways I went with
Mama the time was well spent. His tapestry thread
of gold.
I've learned life's lessons when I've
grieved with lashes wet that God's plans
are right. Each life closes into
night and death has fused out temporal
light that this time is perfectly right.
The Weaver is interweaving the silver in the horizon of night.
The loom of which she's wove can never be diffused by
temporal light, for in thee does she repose. A crown of Glory she holds, she's the lily pure and white that He chose.
poem by Vanita Allgood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Those Threads
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
coming together
gold and silver
tears and laughter.
creating a pattern
U and I, fashioning
us.
knotted so closely
refusing to fray
a lovely tapestry
inter-woven over
the years
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
together at last.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tapestry Of Emotion
The path that all life treads,
are a tapestry’s linen threads,
and the eye of the needle,
are the hearts of all the people,
woven in and out of each other,
so we are all sisters and brothers,
in the weave of life’s pattern,
from the moment of the rising sun,
to the time of the twinkling stars,
we’re imprisoned in life’s aging bars.
If you could what thread would you use?
Yes, what path would you choose?
One of passion, heat and glory,
or one of pristine and noble sobriety,
so stop, look and listen,
to life’s pneumatic system,
confusing you with its instructions,
whilst you seek its seduction,
for life is all about emotion,
entangled in the world’s commotion,
for life, love, fear, want and need,
all keep driving us to succeed.
poem by Dale Mullock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Special Act
Zoo and zoom,
With a special act to put at stake;
And like th elight of th emoon on the loom!
But the flower of the fairies abounds in your muse.
Hope, life, love and depression;
Wake up from your loneliness and jkeep upfront,
And like a line to the loom but never to the moon!
Loom, room, boom, zoom, doom;
Get a professional act in the form of your act,
And like the simplicity of the essence of a micro-lightening.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golden Threads
Golden threads inter-woven,
Comforter in disguise,
From a thread, emerges a
pattern,
Friendship to materialize,
Ever exploring, then deciding.
Disappointed, then surprised.
Golden threads refuse to sever,
Ore the years with patience
tied.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.
quote by Henry Ward Beecher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song For You
(leon russell)
Ive been so many places
In my life and time
Ive sung a lot of songs
I made some bad rhymes
Ive acted out my life in stages
Ten thousand people watching
But were alone now
Im singing this song for you
I know your image of me
Is what I hope to be
I treated you unkindly
But darling cant you see?
Theres no-one more important to me
Oh, baby, cant you please see through me?
cause were alone now and
Im singing this song for you
You taught me precious secrets
Of the truth withholding nothing
You came out in front
I was hiding
Oh, but now Im so much better
If the words dont come together
Just listen to the melody
cause my love in there hiding
Ooh, ooh
Oh, I love you in a place
Where theres no space or time
Love you for my life
You are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and
I was singing this song for you
We were alone
I was singing this song for you, oh
Singing
I was singing, singing, singing, singing, singing this song for you
Oh, yes
Singing this song for you
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weaver's loom
There is no any special magic.
The weaver used the same thread and the shuttle.
Perhaps the loom is different?
but the usual fading cloth he made.
Life is a jigsaw puzzle
you have to take part
until he prescribes the bitter (sugar-coated) pill.
Dedication to the poetess Adrienne. Alicia. Aversa
theme extracted from your biography..............................
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh That Tapestry
Oh that tapestry
How I have yearned
to weave it with
you.
A combination of
threads
gold and silver
strong and secure
closely knotted
in the end.
tears and laughter
woven together
creating us.
our lives inter-
woven
a coming together
began so long ago
oh that tapestry.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War
One night a feat was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, 'What has
befallen you?' And the man replied, 'O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver.'
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
'O prince,' said the weaver, 'the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary.'
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Am an Old Lady
When I am an old lady
the young men
will come to me
& sit trembling
at my trembling
feet
saying:
you must have been
beautiful
when you were young;
you must have been
a wonderful lover-
& perhaps
they will still feel
that current
which you say
passes from me
to you
& which you give back
doubled
on our wild
afternoons.
The madness
will still be there-
the current of sex,
of poetry, of heroism-
which is only
another name
for God
passing through us-
God, Goddess,
whoever
we call Her-
that ancient lady
who sits above the world
spinning out
our destinies.
She looped your life
around mine;
she took the weft
of your need
& gave me
the bright threads
to weave you
into my life-
old Circe
playing music on her loom,
& weaving men
into her glittering
tapestry.
Woven into her cloth,
still,
they feel free.
Bewitched by her poems,
still,
they feel strong.
Drunk on her Pramnian wine,
still,
they feel clear-
as if they were marching
through life
alone.
But it is she
who guides them,
leading them
now by their cocks,
now by their hearts,
now by swinishness-
but what does she feel
alone
on her cloud throne?
She feels lonely.
Lonely to know
all she knows
& lonely even being loved
by so many
sleepy
beasts.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be Home Again
Oh!
To return to those precious
moments,
Where little people dance
inside the ring.
we stroll in the meadow,
stop and refresh ourselves
Lauralee is weaving a lovely
tapestry,
threads of gold and silver,
woven so closely together,
Papa is gathering threads
for her loom.
In the distance a beautiful
flower appears,
I hear a faint song, yet so
familiar,
sitting on his favorite petal,
my fairy man,
It's so good to be home again.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Golden Treasure
Oh friend,
How I miss the times
we spent together.
These are treasures
my heart refuses to
release.
In the evening
when all is quite
your presence lingers.
The golden threads we
have woven together
in this life time
remain securely
fastened.
As we carefully
knotted the ends
tied them with pretty
ribbons.
golden threads tightly
woven
creates a lasting
friendship.
A gold and silver
treasure
to hold in reverence
not even death can
cause them to fray.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's a pattern when tours start - a pattern of infighting, of making up, of breaking up, of addiction. There's a pattern of going to jail. There's a pattern of passion for music.
quote by Nikki Sixx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For You
Ive been so many places in my life and time
Sung a lot of songs Ive made some bad rhyme
I got out my life in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But were alone now Im singing this song
Singing this song for you
I know your image of me is what I hope to be
Ive treated you unkindly but darling cant you see
Theres no one more important to me
Darling can you please see through me
Cause were alone now
And Im singing this song for you
You taught me precious secrets of the truth
Were only nothing
You came out in front when I was hiding
But now Im so much better
And if my words can come together
Listen to the melody
Cause my love is in there hiding
I love you in a place where theres no space or time
I love you for my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
Singing this song, singing this song for you
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come and love me,
Come and love me,
Come and love me,
Love me know that Iam unfeigned,
Either way Iam making a sway with my sorrow,
I did alot of mistake's,
Now I need to calm and understand life's concept,
Come and love me,
There is the redeemer's voice,
That I need to wake up from all my sorrow's,
Change these pattern's that I may increase skills,
Agile and deft pattern's,
It's all a pattern not worthied a Stigma.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woven on a heavenly loom
Woven together on a heavenly loom
I was formed by God whilst in my mother's womb.
Then the days of my life in His book were penned
from before I was born right up to the end.
Each chapter was scribed by a God of grace
Paragraphs written before life took place.
Ev'ry moment before they had past
God wrote them from the first day ‘til last.