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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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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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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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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Storing Golden Threads
This morning I arose.
Suitcase packed.
Ready for the journey.
Leaving within the hour.
Lauralee and friends
are waiting for me.
The atmosphere there
is quite and serene.
It is springtime, the
meadows are ablaze with
color.
Beautiful flowers awaken
from their winters nap.
Our community is expanding.
A new poet has just
arrived
I am most anxious to
meet him.
Lauralee is at the
spinning wheel, spinning
threads of gold, for my
welcome home.
Levi is storing the
threads
for safe keeping, until
the proper time arrives.
poem by Heather Burns
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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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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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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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The Ring
I discovered a perfect circle of mushrooms,
some believe this to be a fairy ring.
I decided to watch the ring from some distance
on the off chance I might see something.
After an hour or so of waiting
two butterflies flew around the ring.
A circle of tiny golden stars lit up the area
and I could hear soft voices sing.
Eight fairies appeared sitting on the mushrooms,
it was they who were singing after all.
They began to dance around the ring of mushrooms,
which made them grow incredibly tall.
The silver fairy saw me watching
and flew to the centre of the ring.
She twisted and turned and flew above the circle,
sprinkling fairy dust over everything.
The other fairies turned to face me
and put out their fairy tongues.
They continued to dance in the air regardless,
then faded with the sound of their song.
poem by Orlando Belo
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A Golden Treasure
Oh friend,
How I miss the times
we spent together.
These are treasures
my heart refuses to
release.
In the evening
when all is quite
your presence lingers.
The golden threads we
have woven together
in this life time
remain securely
fastened.
As we carefully
knotted the ends
tied them with pretty
ribbons.
golden threads tightly
woven
creates a lasting
friendship.
A gold and silver
treasure
to hold in reverence
not even death can
cause them to fray.
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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Black Swan
(1947) gian carlo menotti
The sun is falling and it lies in blood
The moon is weaving bandages of gold
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
Where oh where is my lover now
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown and my lamp is lost
With silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
I had given him a kiss and a golden ring
And a golden ring
I had given him a kiss of fire and a golden ring
Oh with silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Black wing o black wing take me down with you
Take me down with you take me down with you
Take me down with you
Old black swan take me down with you
I had given him a kiss of fire
Take me down with you
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widow McFarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom i
A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope o'erlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Papa-Omm-Mow-Mow
Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow
The Beach Boys
Frazier/White/Wilson, Jr./Harris
The last time we were up here
We did a song by another group of guys
We like very much
A real friendly group of guys
Called the Rivingtons
Their song is called "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow"
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
Funniest sound I ever heard
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But I can't understand a single word
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well if he's serious or if he's playin'
Woo my my it's all he's sayin
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well say there pop, say what's your name?
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well don't you come around and show your face
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But hearing the sound I can't figure it out
Oo-wee this sound makes me stop and shout
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
Doot doot doot
Doot doot doot
A papa-papa-papa-papa-oom-mow-mow
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
Well I hear this sound everywhere I go
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
From the record, TV, or the radio
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But now it's spreadin' all through the land
I still can't seem to understand
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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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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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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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Flower to Flower
I came across one flower
While walking in a garden
It saw me and gave a smile
I too smiled and walked
Each day in garden I smiled
One day I gazed at flower
At its plant and roots closely
I observed its dance in wind
And its dance made me sing
It made me smile all my time
Everyday I went to flower
Smiled with it and came back
My days went like seconds
Nights passed like years
Flower made me its lover
So I wrote songs on its dance
On its lovely beautiful smile
All about its charming beauty
And my state of dying slowly
In which I am smiling daily
One day I saw flower singing
In the garden while jogging
Song reveled its moving off
From my garden to a house
Of loved one from its past
I smiled on all my songs
While writing a new song
Its song of flower to flower
Which I gave to my flower
When departing from my lover
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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