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Spider Silk
Its lining is that of silk,
Like a from a spider,
For it their spiders are webbing
To determine for the workers to liven their salary.
To test an exam for the student,
Who lightens the silk for the dress he was given
By the tailor.
He exchanged the silk of a spider for its spit.
Spit has venom.
Student is dead from silk.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Scissor's Story
there was once a boy
who is afraid of scissors
and the scissors keep on
threatening him,
until one day when the boy
gained strength to face
that scissor and
he tied it with a string
on his neck and
paraded it on the streets
of the town
his thumb was cut
and blood dripped along the
path
towards his self-gained
freedom
and then he laughed
as the scissor gets too sharp
for the pleasure of
his neck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Discontented Manicure Scissors
Said the manicure scissors one day,
'The shears always have their own way,
And I think it absurd
That I am deterred
From entering into life's fray.
My task might be jolly for snails,
But I must confess that it fails
To give pleasure to me;
I am sick as can be
Of snipping the ends of pink nails.
I want to do work like the shears!'
So the scissors set out it appears,
And very much wroth
They tried to cut cloth,
And so split themselves open, my dears.
And the cloth, well you should have seen that;
It looked as if gnawed by a rat.
Now little folks, you
Must not think you can do
Whatever your elders are at.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Silk
Passionate touches
Chocolate kisses
Silk perfection
My body and soul on fire
My eyes glow incandescence
My mind and body sway and rock
You slip into my world
Breathing heavy and high
Fly
Bold and black connections
Silk and creamy perfections
Still life
Real love
Here we go
Lets ride
Lets dance
Lets play
Silk romance
You are my…
You are my…
You are mines
Worth more than all wealth
Greater than any king
Finally the real thing
Silk love
My skin
Milk chocolate
Your skin
Caramel
And we swirl and blend
How does it feel?
Silk feelings never end
His scent
My fragrance
Honeysuckle and milk
His power, my vulnerability
my push, his stroke, our affection…..silk…perfection.
poem by Danielle Beechum
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They're Noticing
I sit
An average day
I roll my arm over
He notices first
What happened to your arm?
I look at the cuts
That are freshly there
Nothing my cat attacked me
I say
He smiles and turns back around
But it's not my cat's fault
It's my fault
I made the cuts
With my old scissors
Next, She notices them
What happened?
I look at my arm
With the healing scars
Nothing, My cat
She smiles and laughs
I smile a little, too
But that poor cat
Taking the blame
When it's really me
And my scissors
Then, She tells me
You need to put your cuts
Some place else
People are noticing
Your cover is falling
Your cat won't last forever
I nod and cry
She tries to help
But what can she do
To make me stop
They're noticing, Darling
They're noticing
poem by Alyssa Ray
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The best way to make a silk purse from a sow's ear is to begin with a silk sow. The same is true of money.
quote by Norman Ralph Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutting edge
Like a sharp knife
cutting through a bitter lemon
into red lips dripping
the hairdresser takes my pleasantries,
chops them with a cruel hand,
throws them back in pieces in my face
snip snip into blond hair, brown hair, black, grey, white,
what heroic restraint, condemned
to a lifetime’s cutting, and not
to plunge the scissors into a spinal cord…
this little girl who cut her finger with
her mother’s scissors perhaps
to try to explain how they cut her heart
her love that would grow like hair
how can I know the heart
of this woman who cuts my hair
so expertly.. snip, snip..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil.
quote by Truman Capote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I often shoot with scissors in my eyes.
quote by Allan Dwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repetition
Johnny is a man
And hes bigger than you
But his overheads are high
And he looks straight through when you ask him how the kids are
Hell get home around seven
cause the chevys real old
And he could have had a cadillac
If the school had taught him right
And he could have married anne with the blue silk
Blouse
He could have married anne with the blue silk blouse
And the food is on the table
But the food is cold
Dont hit her
Cant you even cook?
Whats the good of me working when you cant damn cook?
Well johnny is a man
And hes bigger than her
I guess the bruises wont show
If she wears long sleeves
But the space in her eyes shows through
And he could have married anne with the blue silk blouse
He could have married anne with the blue silk blouse
Shows through
Shows through
Shows through
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ida Frickey
Nothing in life is alien to you:
I was a penniless girl from Summum
Who stepped from the morning train in Spoon River.
All the houses stood before me with closed doors
And drawn shades -- I was barred out;
I had no place or part in any of them.
And I walked past the old McNeely mansion,
A castle of stone 'mid walks and gardens,
With workmen about the place on guard,
And the County and State upholding it
For its lordly owner, full of pride.
I was so hungry I had a vision:
I saw a giant pair of scissors
Dip from the sky, like the beam of a dredge,
And cut the house in two like a curtain.
But at the "Commercial" I saw a man,
Who winked at me as I asked for work --
It was Wash McNeely's son.
He proved the link in the chain of title
To half my ownership of the mansion,
Through a breach of promise suit -- the scissors.
So, you see, the house, from the day I was born,
Was only waiting for me.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Afternoon In The Vineyard
trimming grapes
only the click of the scissors
and the chirping of the birds.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Painter on Silk
There was a man
Who made his living
By painting roses
Upon silk.
He sat in an upper chamber
And painted,
And the noises of the street
Meant nothing to him.
When he heard bugles, and fifes, and drums,
He thought of red, and yellow, and white roses
Bursting in the sunshine,
And smiled as he worked.
He thought only of roses,
And silk.
When he could get no more silk
He stopped painting
And only thought
Of roses.
The day the conquerors
Entered the city,
The old man
Lay dying.
He heard the bugles and drums,
And wished he could paint the roses
Bursting into sound.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XV. -- A Little Bird In The Air
A little bird in the air
Is singing of Thyri the fair,
The sister of Svend the Dane;
And the song of the garrulous bird
In the streets of the town is heard,
And repeated again and again.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
To King Burislaf, it is said,
Was the beautiful Thyri wed,
And a sorrowful bride went she;
And after a week and a day,
She has fled away and away,
From his town by the stormy sea.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
They say, that through heat and through cold,
Through weald, they say, and through wold,
By day and by night, they say,
She has fled; and the gossips report
She has come to King Olaf's court,
And the town is all in dismay.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
It is whispered King Olaf has seen,
Has talked with the beautiful Queen;
And they wonder how it will end;
For surely, if here she remain,
It is war with King Svend the Dane,
And King Burislaf the Vend!
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
Oh, greatest wonder of all!
It is published in hamlet and hall,
It roars like a flame that is fanned!
The King--yes, Olaf the King--
Has wedded her with his ring,
And Thyri is Queen in the land!
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Before the white chrysanthemum
Before the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate
a moment.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Scissors, screwdrivers and the like pose an unacceptable risk to flight crews as well passengers.
quote by Dave Reichert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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