Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives, and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique.
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Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life
WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come;
Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight
weave in!
Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant
weave! tire not!
(We know not what the use, O life! nor know the aim, the end--nor
really aught we know;
But know the work, the need goes on, and shall go on--the death-
envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on;)
For great campaigns of peace the same, the wiry threads to weave;
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Indian Weavers
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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A Strong Weaving
Some lives are made with burlap string,
Some lives are spun with silken thread,
But you wove mine a strong weaving,
From strands of pounded gold instead.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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The Purple Thread
'The priests distributed various coloured silken threads to weave for the veil of the sanctuary; and it fell to Mary's lot to weave purple.'
—The Book of the Bee, ch. XXXIV.
I
THE chosen maidens, Weavers of the Veil,
Kneeling in crescent, from the High Priest took
Their wisps of silk in slender hands that shook
Lifting the colors to their lips rose-pale
With holy passion, —colors like the frail
Spring flowers of Carmel, blue as that glad look
Of dancing iris, scarlet as a nook
Of wild anemones, or gold as sail
Seen from its summit 'neath the Syrian moon.
But Mary caught her breath in one swift sob
Of pain uncomprehended ere it fled,
Leaving her heart with some strange fear a-throb,
For the wise priest, as one conferring boon,
Had meted out to her a purple thread.
II
O mothers of the race, ye blessèd ones
Who weave with cherubim the veil before
The Holy Place of God, the mystic door
Of life, proud mothers of belovèd sons,
To-day you send them forth to front the guns,
Waving your boys farewell with smiles that pour
Strength into their young souls. Your prayers implore
The Mercy Seat; your love, an angel, runs
Before them with wild, shielding arms outspread.
O Weavers of the Veil, however varies
The silk assigned, exceeding great reward
Is yours, for you —O you, most sacred Maries,
To whom is given grief's royal, purple thread —
Make beautiful the temple of the Lord.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Sweet Repose
Everything served as stepping stones, I am not
grieving as the end appeared to be a new be-
ginning; a higher flight, more enchanting delight,
no fear at all, this deep dream unique cannot let
me fall as the silver chord and golden thread
weave in patterns of meaning eluding me still,
but beckoning more beautiful then ever before,
a masterful voice uttering words so choice, my
soul responds, my heart rejoice, my mind be-
calmed makes me see the sweet repose that
used to seem completely out of reach: if it is
there, if it is calling; I can follow because
I know where the doorway is….
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I Rebel
The Norns who weave the tapestry
which rules the fate of mortal men.
Can make mistakes apparently
and some time have to think again.
Though each one blames the other two
and none will admit to their mistake
They have to weave the threads anew.
A lengthy process which can take
almost the life span of a man.
But even Norns are governed by.
The need to heed the master plan,
they have no choice the rules apply
A single thread that’s out of place
can alter mankind’s history.
So they comply with little grace.
What is to be must come to be.
Has man no choice but play the part?
They’ve woven in their tapestry
His path through life right from the start
is fore ordained: no man is free.
The three weird sisters can foresee
future events and bind them fast,
As pictures in their tapestry.
No mortal man can overcast.
The lasting spell the sisters weave.
Although he thinks his will is free.
It matters not what we believe
and therein lies the mystery.
If we believe that this is true.
We are but puppets on a string
and there is little we can do.
To change the slightest little thing.
But I rebel I don’t believe
and make my way as best I can
Accomplish what I can achieve
I am no puppet I’m a man.
22-Sep-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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As you have arranged the thread so must you weave it.
If the Advertising Man Had Been Praed, or Locker
"C'est distingue," says Madame La Mode,
'Tis a fabric of subtle distinction.
For street wear it is superb.
The chic of the Rue de la Paix--
The style of Fifth Avenue--
The character of Regent Street--
All are expressed in this new fabric creation.
Leather-like, but feather-light--
It drapes and folds and distends to perfection.
And it may be had in dull or glazed,
Plain or grained, basket weave or moiréd surfaces!
--Advertisement of Pontine, in Vanity Fair.
"C'est distingue," says Madame La Mode.
Subtly distinctive as a fabric fair;
Nor Keats nor Shelley in his loftiest ode
Could thrum the line to tell how it will wear.
The flair, the chic, that is Rue de la Paix,
The style that is Fifth Avenue, New York.
The character of Regent Street in May--
As leather strong, yet light as any cork.
All these for her in this fair fabric clad.
(Light of my life, O thou my Genevieve!)
In surface dull or glazed it may be had--
In plain or grained, moiréd or basket weave.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Weave in faith and God will find the thread.
Tapestry Of LIfe
I see life
Like a Tapestry
Were you weave
In and out of life
As the journey unfolds
Each thread
Inter woven in your dreams
Have vibrant colours
That burst into being
That burst into life
Then often as in life
You have the black
Grey and white
The hidden nightmares
The hidden dreams
The shadows of life
The beauty of it all
Is how each thread
Intertwines its way through life
Each colour vibrant
With each thread you sew
Even the shadows
Bring out the colours
On a tapestry of Gold
poem by Kaila George
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Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it each day, and at last we cannot break it.
quote by Horace Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so that each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry.
quote by Richard P. Feynman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture Picture by Tanya Markova
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Nang gabing masilayan ka...
Dala-dala ko pa
Ang aking lumang camera
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Campus gig noon at nag-aya ang tropa
Maraming bebot ang nagsasayaw
Nang biglang mapansin kita
What a beautiful face
At kinunan kita
What a beautiful face
Angat ka sa iba
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face
I saw her face
Mukha syang taga-a a outerspace
Si Mang Roger ako'y kinalabit
Ang sabi
Halika na balot muna
Bago ka mag-konica
Na seramika gawa sa pabrika
Lagot ka na ang kamera may mahika
Ano ang lohika kung bat nahilo ka
Mekaniko si Moniko ng makina ni Monika
What a beautiful face
Bigla kang nawala
What a beautiful face
Ako'y natulala
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Mekaniko si Moniko ng makina ni Monika
What a beautiful face
O nasaan ka na
What a beautiful face
Hinahanap-hanap ka
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face...
poem by Shi Yelami
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A Weaver Of Magic (quatrain)
As I looked through with pure delight
LauraLee in the pale moonlight.
With silver and gold she did weave
A flawless tapestry of make-believe.
poem by Heather Burns
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Orchid Club
Ah ah ah... adventure very near, and then you vanish.
Rescue from invasion narrowly avoided.
Have to live with nature.
Hear a voice from a novel.
Love persuasion very near, and then you vanished.
Some say hes too handsome, some say hes unique.
Steel, the weave, the night trick, aphrodisiac.
Ah oo ah the boys herb... vanilla, vanilla.
They say Ill never find him or evidence left behind.
Flip a coin to decide it.
Is it now or never?
Have to live with nature.
I hear a voice from a novel.
Love persuasion.
Oh orchidia.
Steel, the weave, the night trick.
Weave the tale you find.
Reappear in a vision.
My hearts racing with the rhythm.
Even in the drum beat time will tell the story.
Orchidia. orchidia. orchidia. orchidia.
Looking for an adventure.
Here today gone tomorrow.
Articles declaring evidence to follow.
Heart is pumping to the rhythm.
The story is repeated.
Ayoooayooayaaaaaaaaaaaaaayayayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayayayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Where are you, where are you, orchidia?
Where are you, where are you, orchidia?
Whoa ooh oh, where are ya, orchidia?
Orchidia?
Orchidia?
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Refrain
Of all the songs which poets sing
The ones which are most sweet
Are those which at close intervals
A low refrain repeat;
Some tender word, some syllable,
Over and over, ever and ever,
While the song lasts,
Altering never,
Music if sung, music if said,
Subtle like some golden thread
A shuttle casts,
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With the golden hue.
Oh! of all the songs sung,
No songs are so sweet
As the songs with refrains,
Which repeat and repeat.
Of all the lives lived,
No life is so sweet,
As the life where one thought,
In refrain doth repeat,
Over and over, ever and ever,
Till the life ends,
Altering never,
Joy which is felt, but is not said,
Subtler than any golden thread
Which the shuttle sends
In and out in a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all the lives lived,
Can be no life so sweet,
As the life where one thought
In refrain doth repeat,
"Now name for me a thought
To make life so sweet,
A thought of such joy
Its refrain to repeat."
Oh! foolish to ask me. Ever, ever
Who loveth believes,
But telleth never.
It might be a name, just a name not said,
But in every thought; like a golden thread
Which the shuttle weaves
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all sweet lives,
Who can tell how sweet
Is the life which one name
In refrain doth repeat?
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Weave Your Spell
Last night when you spoke to me
Emotion in your voice
You said that you gave to me
A very simple choice
I could leave you ...
And go wandering on my own
Or believe in you ...
Never leave you all alone
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
When you met me I was wild
"The Spider and the Fly"
Your affections made me smile
I didn't have to try
But then you tamed me...
never blamed me for my pride
And you aimed to ...
Find the real me deep inside
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
Now I'm feeling like a change
You say that I don't care
But when I look across the way
It's always greener there
If I leave you ...
I may never have the choice
To come back to ...
All the loving that you gave unceasingly
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wave Your Spell
Last night when you spoke to me
Emotion in your voice
You said that you gave to me
A very simple choice
I could leave you ...
And go wandering on my own
Or believe in you ...
Never leave you all alone
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
When you met me I was wild
The spider and the fly
Your affections made me smile
I didnt have to try
But then you tamed me...
Never blamed me for my pride
And you aimed to ...
Find the real me deep inside
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
Now Im feeling like a change
You say that I dont care
But when I look across the way
Its always greener there
If I leave you ...
I may never have the choice
To come back to ...
All the loving that you gave unceasingly
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experiences Spun Life Defining
no reply no reply I wonder why
decades passing slip slip slipping
time decisions have their way of taking
life demands multiple acts each days making
time decisions choices rivers flow in passing
flow takes away familiar scenes ghosts missing
remember youth friendship faces fate time altering
weave weave weave lives journeys past went spinning
tapestry woven cotton woolen patterns colours flowing
now time binds final cumulative stitches threads integrating
sum total scores of years divides roads fix flying flying flying
numerous countless various loads experiences spun life defining
poem by Terence George Craddock
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