The Thread
Something is very gently,
invisibly, silently,
pulling at me-a thread
or net of threads
finer than cobweb and as
elastic. I haven't tried
the strength of it. No barbed hook
pierced and tore me. Was it
not long ago this thread
began to draw me? Or
way back? Was I
born with its knot about my
neck, a bridle? Not fear
but a stirring
of wonder makes me
catch my breath when I feel
the tug of it when I thought
it had loosened itself and gone.
poem by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Builder's Lesson
'HOW shall I a habit break?'
As you did that habit make.
As you gathered, you must lose;
As you yielded, now refuse.
Thread by thread the strands we twist
Till they bind us neck and wrist;
Thread by thread the patient hand
Must untwine ere free we stand.
As we builded, stone by stone,
We must toil unhelped, alone,
Till the wall is overthrown.
But remember, as we try,
Lighter every test goes by;
Wading in, the stream grows deep
Toward the center's downward sweep;
Backward turn, each step ashore
Shallower is than that before.
Ah, the precious years we waste
Leveling what we raised in haste;
Doing what must be undone
Ere content or love be won!
First across the gulf we cast
Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
And habit builds the bridge at last!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cobweb
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck
of the house. From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.
It was hot and still. The tide was out.
No birds sang. As I leaned against the railing
a cobweb touched my forehead.
It caught in my hair. No one can blame me that I turned
and went inside. There was no wind. The sea
was dead calm. I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath
touches it. A fine thread. Intricate.
Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Threads Of Truth
Threads what are gossamer threads of truth?
Where do they lead among all those entangled byways?
Who can separate all the knots all the strings
to find that one straight path to an elusive absolute truth?
Is there ever only one ultimate truth that outshines
all others amist the crowds of unending misconceptions?
Does God ever leave a thread of truth that might
speak for him as a guiding symbol of absolute fact?
A thread that represents his divine absolute authority?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Torn
Silently I wait alone for you
I've got to put my fear back in its box
Silently I feel you breathe on me
And I hear mercy sigh and leave the room
You could hurt me
Take my breath away.
Would you like that?
You could rip me
Leave me torn and cold.
Would you like that?
One More Sin. Make me unforgiven
Silently, I turn and play begins
I watch you smile
Just like a dead things smiles
Silently I lose and darkness comes
I hear you laugh as God abandons me
You could cut me
Let me die for you.
Would you like that?
All I feel. Makes me unforgiven
song performed by by Gary Numan
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men't to be
It seems when we're together nothing else matters
I'm ready to take on the world with you
Whatever comes out way and gives us a scare
will only bring us closer to staying together
like a needle and thread we'll be held together with a knot
Even when we don't feel so great
Things will begin to heat up because we were brought together by fate
Cupid has seen us separate and together as one
Sparks would fly between us, While were gazing at the setting sun
And soon we'll see that shooting star we'll thank god we've made it this far
Bring on the drama, but hold back the tears
Were fighting with eachother
Ignoring the fears
The sun is comming out as the clouds vanish away
No thread of tearer is here
Time to play like little kids
catching frogs and chasing fire flies
The light in the jar may burn out
But the love never dies
poem by Holly Somer
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Silence Is Like A Spool Of White Thread
silence is like a spool of white thread
take the the tip and walk away
at the end
after you have traveled a very long distance
you come back and tell me
if this is worth it
the long silence of the white thread
what did it tell you?
you come back.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Spinning
Like a blind spinner in the sun,
I tread my days;
I know that all the threads will run
Appointed ways;
I know each day will bring its task,
And, being blind, no more I ask.
I do not know the use or name
Of that I spin:
I only know that some one came,
And laid within
My hand the thread, and said, 'Since you
Are blind, but one thing you can do.'
Sometimes the threads so rough and fast
And tangled fly,
I know wild storms are sweeping past,
And fear that I
Shall fall; but dare not try to find
A safer place, since I am blind.
I know not why, but I am sure
That tint and place,
In some great fabric to endure
Past time and race,
My threads will have; so from the first,
Though blind, I never felt accurst.
I think, perhaps. this trust has sprung
From one short word
Said over me when I was young,--
So young, I heard
It, knowing not that God's name signed
My brow, and sealed me His, though blind.
But whether this be seal or sign
Within, without,
It matters not. The bond divine
I never doubt.
I know He set me here, and still,
And glad, and blind, I wait His will;
But listen, listen, day by day,
To hear their tread
Who bear the finished web away,
And cut the thread,
And bring God's message in the sun,
'Thou poor blind spinner, work is done.'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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His Bargain
Who talks of Plato's spindle;
What set it whirling round?
Eternity may dwindle,
Time is unwound,
Dan and Jerry Lout
Change their loves about.
However they may take it,
Before the thread began
I made, and may not break it
When the last thread has run,
A bargain with that hair
And all the windings there.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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1.06 Little By Little Does The Trick
Even the smallest does count,
Little or small has its sound,
A dropp of water or a stick,
A thin thread or a brick.
[14] - 1
Drops of water fill the ocean,
Small bricks make a house,
Together sticks or thin thread,
Show strength and load do bear.
[15] - 1
Alone it is difficult to stand,
Unity gives strength that's grand,
It is the small - little by little,
Doing tricks - strength from brittle.
[16] - 1
poem by Munnan Misra
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Friends tie their purse with a cobweb thread.
The Needle and Thread
The Needle and Thread one day were wed,
The Thimble acted as priest,
A paper of Pins, and the Scissors twins
Were among the guests at the feast.
That dandy trim the Bodkin slim
Danced with Miss Tape-measure,
But he stepped on her trail, and she called him 'a whale,'
And that put an end to their pleasure.
Wrinkled and fat the Beeswax sat
And talked with the Needle-case.
'I am glad,' she said, 'that my niece, the Thread,
Has married into this race.
'Her mother, the Spool, was a dull old fool,
And the Needle and Thread were shy;
The result you see came all through me,
I taught her to catch his eye.'
The Emery-ball just there had a fall-
She had danced too long at one time,
And that put a stop to the merry hop,
And that brings an end to my rhyme.
The groom and the bride took their wedding ride
Down a long white-seam to the shore,
And the guests all said there never was wed
So fair a couple before.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Blondin Walking The Tightrope
Everyman is Blondin,
Every lifetime a rope,
finer than a spider's thread,
sharper than a sword,
stretched between birth and death
(breath and breath)
across Niagara.
(Charles Blondin, a French acrobat, was the first man ever to cross Niagara Falls by tightrope in 1859.)
poem by Brian Taylor
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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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Piano {Klavier}
They say to me
Open this door
curiosity screams
Whatever could it be
Back behind that door
A piano
The keys are all dusty
The strings are all untuned
Back behind that door
At the piano
But she plays no more
It so long ago
On the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
She said to me too
That I'll stay with you
But it just seemed to be
She played alone for me
I poured her blood
On the fire of my rage
I locked up her shrine
They questioned in time
At the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
At the piano
I stand by her
But it just seemed to be
She played alone for me
They opened up the door
And how they cried
I heard her mother plea
her father struck out at me
They tore her from her chair
No one believed me there
I was so insane
With the strech and the pain
At the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
At the piano
She's who I hear
As I began to play
I took her breath away
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chains do not hold a marriage together, It is thread, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years. That is what makes a marriage last — more than passion or even sex.
Simone Signoret in Daily Mail, interview (1978)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Shadow-Child
Why do the wheels go whirring round,
Mother, mother?
Oh, mother, are they giants bound,
And will they growl forever?
Yes, fiery giants underground,
Daughter, little daughter,
Forever turn the wheels around,
And rumble-grumble ever.
Why do I pick the threads all day,
Mother, mother,
While sunshine children are at play?
And must I work forever?
Yes, shadow-child; the live-long day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Your hands must pick the threads away,
And feel the sunshine never.
Why do the birds sing in the sun,
Mother, mother,
If all day long I run and run,
Run with the wheels forever?
The birds may sing till day is done,
Daughter, little daughter,
But with the- wheels your feet must run—
Run with the wheels forever.
Why do I feel so tired each night,
Mother, mother?
The wheels are always buzzing bright;
Do they grow sleepy never?
Oh, baby thing, so soft and white,
Daughter, little daughter,
The big wheels grind us in their might,
And they will grind forever.
And is the white thread never spun,
Mother, mother?
And is the white cloth never done,
For you and me done never?
Oh yes, our thread will all be spun,
Daughter, little daughter,
When we lie down out in the sun,
And work no more forever.
And when will come that happy day,
Mother, mother?
Oh, shall we laugh and sing and play
Out in the sun forever?
Nay, shadow-child, we'll rest all day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Where green grass grows and roses gay,
There in the sun forever.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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