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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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.
Dream Weaver
Dream weaver
Ive just closed my eyes again
Climbed aboard the dream weaver train
Driver take away my worries of today
And leave tomorrow behind
Ooh dream weaver
I believe you can get me through the night
Ooh dream weaver
I believe we can reach the morning light
Fly me high through the starry skies
Maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me to forget todays pain
Ooh dream weaver
I believe you can get me through the night
Ooh dream weaver
I believe we can reach the morning light
Though the dawn may be coming soon
There still may be some time
Fly me away to the bright side of the moon
And meet me on the other side
Ooh dream weaver
I believe you can get me through the night
Ooh dream weaver
I believe we can reach the morning light
Dream weaver
Dream weaver
Dream weaver
- gary wright
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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A Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tapestry Of Emotion
The path that all life treads,
are a tapestry’s linen threads,
and the eye of the needle,
are the hearts of all the people,
woven in and out of each other,
so we are all sisters and brothers,
in the weave of life’s pattern,
from the moment of the rising sun,
to the time of the twinkling stars,
we’re imprisoned in life’s aging bars.
If you could what thread would you use?
Yes, what path would you choose?
One of passion, heat and glory,
or one of pristine and noble sobriety,
so stop, look and listen,
to life’s pneumatic system,
confusing you with its instructions,
whilst you seek its seduction,
for life is all about emotion,
entangled in the world’s commotion,
for life, love, fear, want and need,
all keep driving us to succeed.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Look Mama
Honey, I think audreys a little mature for you
No I dont think shes mature I think shes nice
Hey mom when are we going
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Dont wrap me up in cotton wool
You cant treat me like a fool
Anyway if I was, you gotta let me be one
Ok give me your advice
Its not my fault if I cant be wise
Show me a person who hasnt been done
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Dont try to stick your rules on me
I wasnt born as a carbon copy
I came out of you
But dont think that you own me
I have my respect for you
I wont try to change the things you do
Give me a break
Let me learn it my way
You think you know more than me
Experience hasnt set you free
Look mama I love you
Look mama, look, look mama, look
Look mama I love you
Loom mama, look, look mama, look
I gotta make my own mistakes
Why cant you treat me like a friend
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
Look mama, look, look mama, look
Look mama, look
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yes Mama
got you mama
yes mama
i must move on
above splinters
and tacks
and nails
yes mama
who knows
that at the end
of this darkness
is this tunnel
of light?
surprises of life
mama,
on a box
of chocolates
yes mama, life moves on
and i am
yes mama, all carried away
like that leaf
fallen from a tree
taken by the great river
of our lives...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Weaver
All day, all day, round the clacking net
The weaver's fingers fly:
Gray dreams like frozen mists are set
In the hush of the weaver's eye;
A voice from the dusk is calling yet,
'Oh, come away, or we die!'
Without is a horror of hosts that fight,
That rest not, and cease not to kill,
The thunder of feet and the cry of the flight,
A slaughter weird and shrill;
Gray dreams are set in the weaver's sight,
The weaver is weaving still.
'Come away, dear soul, come away or we die;
Hear'st thou the moan and the rush! Come away;
The people are slain at the gates, and they fly;
The kind God hath left them this day;
The battle-axes cleaves, and the foemen cry,
And the red swords swing and slay.'
'Nay, wife, what boots to fly from pain,
When pain is wherever we fly?
And death is a sweeter thing than a chain:
'Tis sweeter to sleep than to cry,
The kind God giveth the days that wane;
If the kind God hath said it, I die.'
And the weaver wove, and the good wife fled,
And the city was made a tomb,
And a flame that shook from the rocks overhead
Shone into that silent room,
And touched like a wide red kiss on the dead
Brown weaver slain by his loom.
Yet I think that in some dim shadowy land,
Where no suns rise or set,
Where the ghost of a whilom loom doth stand
Round the dusk of its silken net,
Forever flyeth his shadowy hand,
And the weaver is weaving yet.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Burn That Candle
(winfield scott)
Keep that candle burnin bright, mama
Ill be kind of late tonight, mama
Theres a yellow moon above me, mama
Shinin on the one I love, mama
Burn that candle
Night and day
Burn that candle
Honey light our way
Keep that doorway open wide
Until we come slowly strollin side by side
While that candles shinin high, mama
Ill be with my sugar pie, mama
Well be comin home you know and mama
Lookin for that candle glowin, mama
After we have had the wedding, mama
To that candle well be headin, mama
So before were winin and dinin, mama
Keep that candle light a-shinin, mama
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mama Said
Tried to sneak out without saying
With my loudest record playing
Ooh, my mama said, look at this, you havent done your bed
My mama said, thats a thing that you should do instead
Then I did what she had told me
Dying for my friend to hold me
Ooh, my mama said, try and get one thing into your head
My mama said, pa and me, we give you room and bed
How I wanna live my life
Wanna live my life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
In the morning she said listen
Ooh, I felt like in a prison
Yeah, my mama said, i know youve been out again with fred
(my mama said)
My mama said, dont you lie, your cheeks are blushing red
(my mama said)
Oh I wanna live my life
Wanna live my life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
I said I can live without him
How I wish you wouldnt doubt him
Ooh, my mama said, if you want to hurt me go ahead
(my mama said)
My mama said, i suppose youd rather see me dead
(my mama said)
Oh I wanna live my life
Wanna live my life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
La-la-la, la-la-la, life
(fade)
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War
One night a feat was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, 'What has
befallen you?' And the man replied, 'O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver.'
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
'O prince,' said the weaver, 'the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary.'
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Pulsating
In the cavernous mind
a thought becomes
redundant.
You go straight for a snakeroot.
A flat cluster of white flowers
spurs a stigma
at the white moon
for floating rumors.
This was my native pain
of brilliant tapestry.
The threads had a weaver’s knot
of rare beliefs.
poem by Satish Verma
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