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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Spinning Threads
Spin the threads of
life
creating a golden
tapestry.
Weave together love
and memories,
how it was yesterday.
Being woven together
on the loom of life.
Spin threads of gold
and silver,
to make a tapestry
of delight.
Spin the threads of
gold,
spin the events of
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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Oh That Tapestry
Oh that tapestry
How I have yearned
to weave it with
you.
A combination of
threads
gold and silver
strong and secure
closely knotted
in the end.
tears and laughter
woven together
creating us.
our lives inter-
woven
a coming together
began so long ago
oh that tapestry.
poem by Heather Burns
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God’s Tapestry
Trials and tribulation in this life, is mentioned to us by Jesus Christ,
Bringing to us pain in many ways, as we live out these earthly days.
Reasons for many we don’t know; purpose in Glory God will show,
How our trials were used by God, upon the temporal paths we trod.
For all of our lives is a tapestry, weaved in Glory where all will see,
But from this darkened underside, from all of our eyes it does hide.
We just see the darker threads, weaving throughout our life instead.
And through all the pain and sorrow, we look to a brighter tomorrow.
Through the sometimes dark fray, God’s Mercies are new each day,
And we have assurance in The Lord; by who our trial is not ignored.
For Christ suffered, like you and I, but to the point where He did die.
Christ died for us, there’s no denial, and God can help us in our trial.
Though Christ died for you and me, He reigns in Heaven for Eternity.
This world’s not at all like the one, being prepared for us by The Son.
When Christ’s Glory is revealed, all believers will be perfectly healed,
Totally free of our besetting sin, with a perfect heart when we enter in.
Every eye, now above will see, The Lord’s Glorious Eternal Tapestry,
Looking down the corridor of time, we’ll now see life with God’s mind.
We’ll see how our lives were weaved, with others who also believed,
When we see all Christ has done, through the Tapestry of God’s Son.
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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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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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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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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Tapestry
This tapestry of life
I seem to have woven in years
Show colors that have blended
Through all the laughter
And all the tears.
Display the missing answers
Each part connected dots
A masterpiece of life well lived
In hues of memories
That I forgot.
Imperfect though it may be
This tapestry will hold
A portrait of all that is me
The choices, the lessons
A story told.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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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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The Loom of Dreams
I broider the world upon a loom,
I broider with dreams my tapestry;
Here in a little lonely room
I am master of earth and sea,
And the planets come to me.
I broider my life into the frame,
I broider my love, thread upon thread;
The world goes by with its glory and shame,
Crowns are bartered and blood is shed;
I sit and broider my dreams instead.
And the only world is the world of my dreams,
And my weaving the only happiness;
For what is the world but what it seems?
And who knows but that God, beyond our guess,
Sits weaving worlds out of loneliness?
poem by Arthur Symons
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Mama
Behind every life a Weaver ultimately
stands shrouding His plan for every man.
Dark threads are needful in the Master's
skillful hands for He knows the pattern He has planned.
What tapestry in mama's heart He wove, the
sacrifice self was decomposed. Love was
her goal, to train me up in ways I went with
Mama the time was well spent. His tapestry thread
of gold.
I've learned life's lessons when I've
grieved with lashes wet that God's plans
are right. Each life closes into
night and death has fused out temporal
light that this time is perfectly right.
The Weaver is interweaving the silver in the horizon of night.
The loom of which she's wove can never be diffused by
temporal light, for in thee does she repose. A crown of Glory she holds, she's the lily pure and white that He chose.
poem by Vanita Allgood
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When I Am an Old Lady
When I am an old lady
the young men
will come to me
& sit trembling
at my trembling
feet
saying:
you must have been
beautiful
when you were young;
you must have been
a wonderful lover-
& perhaps
they will still feel
that current
which you say
passes from me
to you
& which you give back
doubled
on our wild
afternoons.
The madness
will still be there-
the current of sex,
of poetry, of heroism-
which is only
another name
for God
passing through us-
God, Goddess,
whoever
we call Her-
that ancient lady
who sits above the world
spinning out
our destinies.
She looped your life
around mine;
she took the weft
of your need
& gave me
the bright threads
to weave you
into my life-
old Circe
playing music on her loom,
& weaving men
into her glittering
tapestry.
Woven into her cloth,
still,
they feel free.
Bewitched by her poems,
still,
they feel strong.
Drunk on her Pramnian wine,
still,
they feel clear-
as if they were marching
through life
alone.
But it is she
who guides them,
leading them
now by their cocks,
now by their hearts,
now by swinishness-
but what does she feel
alone
on her cloud throne?
She feels lonely.
Lonely to know
all she knows
& lonely even being loved
by so many
sleepy
beasts.
poem by Erica Jong
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Spinning A Web
Spinning in the web
of time
threads blending
together
gold and silver
yours and mine
creating a lovely
tapestry of events.
poem by Heather Burns
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We don't accomplish anything in this world alone... and whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one's life and all the weavings of individual threads form one to another that creates something.
quote by Sandra Day O'Connor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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My Brain
Sometimes I wish you would open my head,
Cracking the shell of my thick skull again.
Through the fractured bone and fresh fleshy shreds,
Maybe you could recover my smashed brain.
It's torn apart in cranial caverns,
Lost in self-made, aphotic emptiness.
You could learn the labyrinthian turns
That guide me to chaotic happiness.
You could piece my scattered thoughts together,
Weaving my mem'ries into tapestry;
Sewing my threads of cerebral tethers
With your hands of passionate artistry.
As the neurotropic shatters collapse,
Perhaps a better me comes from the scraps.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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A lot has been written about Tony Perkins and myself and I figured, Let's get it straight. I had a relationship with Tony for two to three years, but those are only threads in the tapestry of my whole life.
quote by Tab Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Ink to Inklings
FROM INK TO INKLINGS
From ink to inklings visions flow
to stitch life's tapestry and sow
seeds which obscurity reject
as search for light owes slight respect
to monochromes which seldom show
more than man thinks he needs to know
or throw as viewpoint to reject
the inklings others' inks project.
So when one writes on rags to glow
upon a screen ensure thoughts throw
no jealous shadow yet protect
true principles few should forget.
Concluding couplet signs a smile
to mystic storm's intense sense style.
© Jonathan Robin sonnet written 27 December 2006
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
See also:
Ink Links Inklings robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX 20081228
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Ink Links Inklings
Ink from inklings flows
weaving tapestry,
understanding grows,
rejecting falsity.
Monochromatic glow’s
innate harmony
kaleidoscopic shows
serendipity.
Image imago
instantaneously
enlightenment bestows,
imagination free.
Impressions’ unity
scorns ambiguity.
See also:
From Ink to Inklings 20061227
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
© Jonathan Robin sonnet written 28 December 2008
robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ink Links Inklings
INK LINKS INKLINGS
Ink from inklings flows
weaving tapestry,
understanding grows,
rejecting falsity.
Monochromatic glow’s
innate harmony
kaleidoscopic shows
serendipity.
Image imago
instantaneously
enlightenment bestows,
imagination free.
Impressions’ unity
scorns ambiguity.
See also:
From Ink to Inklings 20061227
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
© Jonathan Robin sonnet written 28 December 2008
robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
FROM INK TO INKLINGS
From ink to inklings visions flow
to stitch life's tapestry and sow
seeds which obscurity reject
as search for light owes slight respect
to monochromes which seldom show
more than man thinks he needs to know
or throw as viewpoint to reject
the inklings others' inks project.
So when one writes on rags to glow
upon a screen ensure thoughts throw
no jealous shadow yet protect
true principles few should forget.
Concluding couplet signs a smile
to mystic storm's intense sense style.
© Jonathan Robin sonnet written 27 December 2006
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
See also:
Ink Links Inklings robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX 20081228
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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