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Wedlock rides in the saddle and repentance on the crupper.
To Mistress Margery Wentworth -2
With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.
Plainly I cannot glose;
Ye be, as I divine,
The pretty primrose,
The goodly columbine.
Benign, courteous, and meek,
With wordes well devised;
In you, who list to seek,
Be virtues well comprised.
With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.
poem by John Skelton
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To Mistress Margery Wentworth
WITH margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.
Plainly I cannot glose;
Ye be, as I divine,
The pretty primrose,
The goodly columbine.
Benign, courteous, and meek,
With wordes well devised;
In you, who list to seek,
Be virtues well comprised.
With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.
poem by John Skelton
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love in the old craft
the embroidered tradition
Romanian "IA"
haiku by Marius Alexandru (January 2022)
Submitted by anonym
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Love is a canvas furnished by Nature and embroidered by imagination.
quote by Voltaire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Concealing truth is like wearing embroidered clothes and traveling by night.
Filling Station
Oh, but it is dirty!
--this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!
Father wears a dirty,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it's a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly dirty.
Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a dirty dog, quite comfy.
Some comic books provide
the only note of color--
of certain color. They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.
Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)
Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe. Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
ESSO--SO--SO--SO
to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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A Very Simple Poem
once you say
do not write poetry
because
you do not understand
whereas
you like
to embroider
which
thread
you
keep a good
in a little
hole
no wrong
so
you have
embroidered
a poem
(2009)
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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Recovered Heart and Mind
Recovered Heart and Mind
All is change; all yields its place and goes. (Euripedes)
I have thoughts of regrets - my long lost past
My heavy pain now white-feathered yet void of respite and disdain,
My mind and heart now wandering through wild sunflower fields
The memory of my misty past now glowing in my heart,
Like a sunflower's glow of the day - dried up the mist away.
And pain no longer hides behind my smiling eyes,
It left in grace and withered in the glow of the sunny day,
And so my heart that leant itself one time, unleashed its deadened
Dream and walked right back with confidence;
And reign again in my once contented heart and mind.
The elusive dreams I once embroidered over my heart
Now hustled back into my once confused - now sensible mind,
The new tomorrow that spun its way deep down into my heart
Embroidered itself deeper, this time a queen of heart. My once
Insensible and naive heart resolves to dance one music at a time.
poem by Jona PoloRamirez
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In your clothes avoid too much gaudiness do not value yourself upon an embroidered gown and remember that a reasonable word, or an obliging look, will gain you more respect than all your fine trappings.
quote by George Savile
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unread
Wearing phylacteries
Embroidered philosophies
Celebrating rituals
Their words sacramental
In true poetic priesthood
Kneel in Self adoration
Burn incense of Deception
Empty praises come
Ad infinitum!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Green Hills
Green hills,
embroidered
mist, rich
rising ridge
fog filled
plunging fields
cattle,
black, weightless
rise poised
from bare bank
grazing
the grass of
heaven
poem by Steven Federle
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Confessional
There was wine in a cup of gold
and a girl of fifteen from Wu,
her eyebrows painted dark
and with slippers of red brocade.
If her conversation was poor,
how beautifully she could sing!
Together we dined and drank
until she settled in my arms.
Behind her curtains
embroidered with lotuses,
how could I refuse
the temptation of her advances?
Li T'ai-po
tr. Hamil
Blossoms Of May
May bloomed brilliant...
Wide eyed in blue skies
Dancing in daffodils and tulips
It's breeze-a gentle fragrance of mixtures
Embroidered in a colourful brocade of Spring sonnets
And embellished by the sweet warblers and their most melodious Psalms
poem by Theodora Onken
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A Day In Your Lifetime...
make a day
like an embroidered
handkerchief
personalized for your
favorite kid
the colors mix
blue sky
golden sunrise
green fields of hay
shimmering
glossy streams
at the left side
there is a red breasted bird
chirping
all silk
smooth so smooth like
your love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rotten Memories
a pen that you just keep
but you have no time using,
an outmoded cell phone
that you are not willing to give up,
a creaky bed, a rusty pin,
a handkerchief with an embroidered
name of your someone special
a old diary, a tiny wild flower
between the pages of your
favorite book, locks of hair,
what do i really need these things for?
ah, memories, rotten memories,
so sweet still.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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20
a pen that you just keep
but you have no time using,
an outmoded cell phone
that you are not willing to give up,
a creaky bed, a rusty pin,
a handkerchief with an embroidered
name of your someone special
a old diary, a tiny wild flower
between the pages of your
favorite book, locks of hair,
what do i really need these things for?
ah, memories, rotten memories,
so sweet still.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Build Her Anew
Exported,
Acquired,
Imported,
Build;
In embroidered garments to attract your love,
But the virgins followed after him.
There is a river and its stream shall galdden your heart,
But desolation came to Fukushima! !
However, walk around her and cover her with love;
And with time to build her anew.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Atra Cura
Before I lost my five poor wits,
I mind me of a Romish clerk,
Who sang how Care, the phantom dark,
Beside the belted horseman sits.
Methought I saw the grisly sprite
Jump up but now behind my Knight.
And though he gallop as he may,
I mark that cursed monster black
Still sits behind his honor's back,
Tight squeezing of his heart alway.
Like two black Templars sit they there,
Beside one crupper, Knight and Care.
No knight am I with pennoned spear,
To prance upon a bold destrere:
I will not have black Care prevail
Upon my long-eared charger's tail,
For lo, I am a witless fool,
And laugh at Grief and ride a mule.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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