To a weaving that has begun, God sends threads.
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A Tapestry for Life
The weaving of many
threads together
creating a beautiful
tapestry.
A tapestry for life.
Two young lovers
carressing in the moon
light.
Planning for a future
weaving their tapestry
for life.
poem by Heather Burns
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I Write About
Fairy tales
golden rings
silver threads
magic things
life and such
all the hush
smiles and tears
o'er the years
spinning dreams
weaving threads
gold and silver
in my head
life's tapestry
sweet and true
threading a
needle with you
poem by Heather Burns
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Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.
Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0778 written 30 March 2005 revised 20070619 and 20081112 for previous version see below
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
© Jonathan Robin – written 30 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ars Poetica
Some from within, some from without,
without a doubt set to,
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to flow, grow, glow. Thereto
through weaving in and weeding out
touch base with Nature, cue
time, place, as twins defeat and wins
ignored are through and through.
No need to shout, run roundabout,
use artificial glue,
scribe’s violin tunes, underpins,
technique as heart rings true.
Sensations scout, don’t beat about
the bush, tout false virtue,
The poet’s string must second skin
become, ne’er dumb, askew.
Words work their way by night and day
from phases past, to light
through threads at play that more threads lay,
reeled phrases feed fresh flight.
(30 March 2005 revised 9 June 2007 and 1 February 2012)
robi03_1128_robi03_0000 XXX_IXX
see below for previous version entitled Poetics
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
(30 March 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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
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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
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Crossed Threads
The silken threads by viewless spinners spun,
Which float so idly on the summer air,
And help to make each summer morning fair,
Shining like silver in the summer sun,
Are caught by wayward breezes, one by one,
Are blown to east and west and fastened there,
Weaving on all the roads their sudden snare.
No sign which road doth safest, freest run,
The wingèd insects know, that soar so gay
To meet their death upon each summer day.
How dare we any human deed arraign;
Attempt to recon any moment's cost;
Or any pathway trust as safe and plain
Because we see not where the threads have crossed?
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Unique Tapestries
A beautiful jersey with a cable pattern illustrating Many
Worlds Theory by weaving infinite threads of parallel
alternative events into cables spiralling rhythmically
in colour, sound and form
Evoking feeling and emotion, influencing choices which
change the future and past, creating unique tapestries on
the loom of the gods, threads made up of consciousness
shimmering in and out of existence
History is not an unfolding of preset events, but it is shaped
by every thought, plan, desire, wish, vision and dream; every
pattern is formed by free innovation, the alternative universes
of possible choices
Create the time-loop cables in reality’s tapestry, threads fork
innumerable times before converging again to continue the
enchanting patterns that keep gods and men staring
at the infinite possibility of probabilities…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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To My Own Self
My hands the Hook thunder hangs its hat on,
My breast the Arroyo storms fill with water,
My brow the Horizon sunrise fills,
My heart the Dawn weaving blue threads of day,
My soul the Song of all life...
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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The Spider
Spider, Spider, weaving web-
Fine and silky, that can’t ebb;
What immortal Hand did give,
Engineering feet to live!
Swift legs moving on fine threads:
Insect prey finally dreads;
What finesse involves your act,
Smothering preys with great tact!
Gossamer-mesh baiting prey:
Caught in surprising, a way;
Wound by silken threads, so fast,
Die insects spun, quite aghast!
Thready sensors, zig-zag laid,
Helping hunter and to aid;
Moving majestically,
Howev’r strong the wind, may be.
What a cute beast? What a frame?
What made Adam give this name?
What gentleness? What great speed?
Catching prey with deadly greed!
Victor always in pinning
Lethally prey by spinning;
What superb brain, God-given,
Watching eyes, agile-driven!
Spider, Spider, weaving web-
Fine and silky, that can’t ebb;
What immortal Hand did give,
Engineering feet to live!
Written after William Blake’s, ‘The Tyger’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-6-2008
poem by John Celes
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Rising dreams
Dreams!
My delicate dreams!
Woven with the tender threads of love,
Bound with the glue of belief.
When collide,
Break down
Into shears and shreads.
A thousand of them!
Each bit a tiny momento
Of time.
Each bit a priceless memory
Difficult to unwind.
I mourn,
My thousand tears
And bury them
Deep somewhere in my heart.
My heart,
Cemetery of my dreams.
My dreams,
Born a thousand lives
Dying a thousand deaths.
My delicate dreams
Woven with the threads of love
Bound with the glue of belief.
And
To my weirdest surprise
I see them rise
From thousand broken shears
From thousand broken shreds
With smile in their lips
Hope in their brows
They rise
Weaving together the threads of love
Bonding with the glue of belief.
Yes! They rise
My dreams They rise.-anjali
poem by Anjali Kakati
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No Worries
when man cuts a tree
God spreads a thousand seeds
when man destroys a pond
God sends a new river
when man destroys the sea
God sends the tsunami
when man kills the bees
God sends more stings
when man kills the birds
God sends back the wind
so why worry?
for every lost creature
God is Here and He
Creates another
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gates Of Tomorrow
Weaving a thread round your heart and your soul
Deceiving your eyes and delaying your goal
Ships in the night when they pass out of sight
Deliver their cargo of earthly delights
To the women and the children the souls of the dead
I've opened their book and no mercy is shed
You want forgiveness and you want it cheap
I don't give redemption rewards for the meek
Suffering evil when you pay the price of fame
There isn't a god to save you if you don't save yourself
You can't blame a madman if you go insane
Give me the strength so I carry on
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web no mercy is shed
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web slaves to the dead
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Suffering evil when you pay the price of fame
There isn't a god to save you if you don't save yourself
You can't blame a madman if you go insane
Give me the strength so I carry on
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web no mercy is shed
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web slaves to the dead
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Seasons of Life
A weaver sits
among the beautiful
threads weaving a glorious
tapestry. Brilliant colors reflect
the seasons of life.
Spring offers
many hues of green,
ever so soothing. When
hearts are young, happy and carefree.
having promises for tomorrow.
Still young enough to
believe dreams will come true.
Oh those days
of summer with wonderful
red, thinking we have found
our hearts delight. Enjoying the heat
of the season, passion abounding.
Then Autumn turns
leaves to many shades of
gold, and cascade to the ground.
Leaving painted pictures lying around.
Looking at life differently.
Knowledge obtainable at last.
Finally the majestic
days of winter silver threads
carefully enter woven. In retrospect
with greens, reds, and gold have created
the wonderful seasons of life.
poem by Heather Burns
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Parents are like shuttles on a loom. They join the threads of the past with threads of the future and leave their own bright patterns as they go.
quote by Fred Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gardener LIX: O Woman
O woman, you are not merely the
handiwork of God, but also of men;
these are ever endowing you with
beauty from their hearts.
Poets are weaving for you a web
with threads of golden imagery;
painters are giving your form ever
new immortality.
The sea gives its pearls, the mines
their gold, the summer gardens their
flowers to deck you, to cover you, to
make you more precious.
The desire of men's hearts has shed
its glory over your youth.
You are one half woman and one
half dream.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Is It Over
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Well theres a rumour out
Have you heard anything ?
And if you ask me now
Will I answer your question ?
In your eyes - I could hear you
Chorus:
Is it over
Is it over (or has it just begun)
Is it over
Is it over (or has it just begun)
You never thought it would get to this
And now youre sick with love
Do you think I can heal you
In my mind - I still hear you
Is it over (or has it just begun)
Is it over
Is it over (or has it just begun)
If I thought I was part of you
I would beg you to stay
But I cant live my time in this world
With the felling this way
Is it over (or has it just begun)
Is it over
Is it over (or has it just begun)
And so you ask me now
Have you done anything
And when youre reaching out
Do I still wanna hold you
In my mind - I can hear you
Chorus (repeat to fade)
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The war's begun
The war's begun,
The world is done.
Give up now.
And let us go.
Looking all around,
Everyone is down.
The world is in ashes,
Cause the war's begun.
Fire spreads,
The world is dead.
They have lied,
Cause the game's begun.
Living in a world.
Full of ashes.
Loss of breath,
Then I go down.
The war's begun,
The world is done.
Can't you see,
We just want to be free?
Let us go,
Everyone knows.
The secret's out,
Cause the war's begun.
They have lied,
And they,
Just watch us,
Die.
We fade away,
Like a bad memory.
They just watch,
And do nothing.
The war's begun,
The world is done.
Why do they,
Just watch us die...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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