To be like the tailor of Campillo, who worked for nothing, and found thread.
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No Common Thread
If no common thread is to be found,
To begin weaving a chemistry.
It would be pointless to continue a search,
For a seamstress,
Or tailor
To design something fitting and suitable,
To taste!
When a pattern unfit...
Will never be customed made,
To meet the needs
Of what already is unmatched.
This is not a consideration.
This is a cancellation waiting to happen.
Another selection is recommended,
Before any order takes place!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Shorter Week
I worked for fifty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut down my working hours
And found, upon the whole,
The leisure time I had to spare
Good for my body's carking care,
And better for my soul.
I worked for forty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Release your bonds, you shackled slave!
Show all the world you're free!'
So I reduced my working hours
And found in leisured lull,
The more I sought to play, the more
Amusement had become a bore,
And life was rather dull.
I worked for twenty hours a week,
And someone said to me
'Awake, you mutt! Snap out of it,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut out my working hours
And found that joy had flit.
Upon black melancholia's brink,
I sometimes used to sit and think
And sometimes merely sit.
I worked for not one hour a week,
And someone said to me,
'You lazy coot! Arise and shine!
You call this being free?'
So I resolved I'd better far
Rejoin the toiling mob.
But when I rose and looked around,
To my intense digust I found
Someone had pinched my job.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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My life was on the line here and my career and everything I worked for, it was hanging by a thread.
quote by Rafael Palmeiro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Senses of Poet
Poet is like perfumer
Who distillates his own feeling into fragrant word
Is like farmer
Who grows his seed of thought into beautiful word
Is like mechanic
Who assembles part of idea into harmony word
Is like tailor
Who stitches thread of border into seamless word
Is like patisserie
Who mixes powder of emotion into delicious word
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Words Dressed
A tailor of your words has dressed you up
And your old speech, to make you better for it.
The release of relics is sacred, all this completion
Seems to question the authority.
My tailor has clothing so pure, and words so pristine,
That everyone respects, holding their hair on the head.
The answer to the thoughts posed by certain educated men,
Reflects the whole issue of grandeur and importance.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Fakin' It
When she goes, she's gone.
If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin' it. I'm not really makin' it.
I'm such a dubious soul,
and a walk in the garden, wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Picking up the punch lines,
I've just been fakin' it, Not really makin' it.
Is there any danger?
No, no not really. Just lean on me.
Takin' time to treat your friendly neighbours honestly.
I've just been fakin' it. I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it. I still haven't shaken it.
Prior to this lifetime, I surely was a tailor
I own the tailor's face and hands.
I am the tailor's face and hands and I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it, I still haven't shaken it.
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Army Blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
The soldier did not seem to care
Let the enemy try to take if he dare;
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
Driving rain or snow wearing his blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
Being a soldier he could expect no better fare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
His fight done, read over with a prayer
Wrapped in the old grey Army blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
He did his duty few could compare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
poem by Derrick Fernie
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You cannot tailor-make the situations in life but you can tailor-make the attitudes to fit those situations.
quote by Zig Ziglar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eve- Song
I span and Eve span
A thread to bind the heart of man;
But the heart of man was a wandering thing
That came and went with little to bring:
Nothing he minded what we made,
As here he loitered, and there he stayed.
I span and Eve span
A thread to bind the heart of man;
But the more we span the more we found
It wasn't his heart but ours we bound.
For children gathered about our knees:
The thread was a chain that stole our ease.
And one of us learned in our children's eyes
That more than man was love and prize.
But deep in the heart of one of us lay
A root of loss and hidden dismay.
He said he was strong. He had no strength
But that which comes of breadth and length.
He said he was fond. But his fondness proved
The flame of an hour when he was moved.
He said he was true. His truth was but
A door that winds could open and shut.
And yet, and yet, as he came back,
Wandering in from the outward track,
We held our arms, and gave him our breast,
As a pillowing place for his head to rest.
I span and Eve span,
A thread to bind the heart of man!
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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Broken Thread
Broken Thread
Waking early I hear myself breathing
Covered up in my hand me down hand me down
Hiding under my patchwork freezing
With my wedding dress calling me, calling me
I dress myself in dis-function
Do I drown you in sympathy, sympathy
You could be my winter messiah
Scarred around and around me....around me
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
I choose to set you on fire
No-more wearing and tearing me, tearing me
Your still my only desire
And now it seems like your leaving me, freeing me, healing me.
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I probably worked every single entertainment medium, including some that don't exist. I worked the circus, carnival, I had my own medicine show, I worked 18 years of radio.
I then wrought at my trade as a tailor; carefully attended meetings for worship and discipline; and found an enlargement of gospel love in my mind, and therein a concern to visit Friends in some of the back settlements of Pennsylvania and Virginia.
quote by John Woolman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My mother worked in factories, worked as a domestic, worked in a restaurant, always had a second job.
quote by Ed Bradley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aftermath
Now the radio stutters. snaps to life.
Some sour song that sets it right.
And when London falls
He'd like to call
But the stars collide.
They're beautiful and much maligned.
In a universe where you see the worst,
And it's up to you to fix it.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
It's easy to dismiss the "what's it all about" crowd.
There is no doubt. it's this, here, now.
And you close your eyes.
He's not coming back.
So you work it out, overfeed the cat.
And the plants are dry and they need to drink.
So you do your best. and you flood the sink.
Sit down in the kitchen and cry.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
Now the universe left you for a runners lap.
It feels like home when it comes crashing back.
And it makes you laugh
And it makes you cry,
When London falls
And you're still alive.
The radio stutters,
It makes you laugh
And the aftermath,
Open up your eyes.
You're so alive.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Single Thread
Life is but a single thread
that stretches into infinity.
If the thread is ever broken
life then drifts away,
lost to the eons of eternal night.
There is no mending the thread
that is once severed,
no going back to recover.
Gone forever the control
it drifts endlessly away
into a greater light
than the one we know.
26 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Wankers
Being born Ignorant; in America
it feels strange to know nothing.
And of this your secret most will lie
never to be so sure, safety.
I walk into a store; out over there
next too that place out yonder,
that same chamber of commerce,
billed as your next heart of America.
Of what is red and white or real,
blue some what like you, when I smile.
I ask the old balding tailor who speaks
with a fake french midwestern accent
I'm sure he is wankers and the worst of it.
I see the empty Rosetta stone case empty
But forced to prequalify again or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so: some where out here,
Someone must know about it so I ask the tailor.
In America so full of wankers, and if you ask them.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Cherry Stones for Kate
Tinker, Windsor castle,
Tailor, Savile Row,
Soldier, head of regiment,
Sailor, Heave-ho.
Rich man - very rich man,
Poor man - more's the pity.
Beggar man, beggars belief,
which of you will be the thief?
Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor
Every marriage is a failure
yet marriage is a common fate.
These are cherry stones for Kate.
Poemcatcher Royal Wedding book, poem collected at StAnza in St Andrews
poem by Sally Evans
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A 'Scion Of Nobility
Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron dear,
Alas! has run away.
If always we had kept him here
He had not gone astray.
Painter and grainer it were vain
To say he was, before;
And if he were, yet ne'er again
He'll darken here a door.
We mourn each matrimonial plan
Even tradesmen join the cry:
He was so promising a man
Whenever he did buy.
He was a fascinating lad,
Deny it all who may;
Even moneyed men confess he had
A very taking way.
So from our tables he is gone
Our tears descend in showers;
We loved the very fat upon.
His kidneys, for 'twas ours.
To women he was all respect
To duns as cold as ice;
No lady could his suit reject,
No tailor get its price.
He raised our hope above the sky;
Alas! alack! and O!
That one who worked it up so high
Should play it down so low!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Old scar, new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
Old scar on the hand
New scar on the head
Same pain, different trouble
First came shock
Then hurt became blue
Blue’s gone leaving scar
Old scar, white scar
New scar, hidden well
When morning’s gone, nights always come
Craving old scar, leaving new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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