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Posts Tagged ‘weaving’

Loom

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The seer gazes

past her spinning wheel

and there she eyes

the weave of Yin and Yang

in threads of sun

and yarns of moon

where hope,

like a soft cloth,

polishes the future.

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(c) 1994, 2016   Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post – again my apologies to those who have read it before.)

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Poetry is the well-worn sleeve

where she displays her heart.

Somebody said

the gods wear paisley,

angels dip their toes

in velvet pleats,

but she likes best

a weave of silk

with lace crochet

around the edge.

Look closely

at the points of light

between the threads,

you’ll see his face

and maybe even read his name

embroidered coyly

near her wrist.

Day after day

she sews anew

the fragile seam

that joins two dreams

all neatly hemmed

and pressed –

or so it seems.

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© 2013, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post, revised)

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(a Mayberrie poem)

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She dusted off her wooden loom

and began to weave

a cloth of green and blue

and purple-red.

For days she barely ate or slept

but worked her fingers

till they bled

into the threads and yarns

that made the fabric whole.

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It would take all morning

to reach the castle gate

through knotted woods

and wading creeks

along the edges

of the sea.

She didn’t stop

until she reached

the cliffs of Mayberrie.

 .

There she saw fresh footprints

and followed to their secret glen.

The old elm tree

still spread its limbs,

its branches grown

since last they met.

She wrapped the cloth

around its trunk

and rested in the shade

until the sun fell westerly

and she must journey home.

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That night she slept,

strange comfort

in her weariness,

while somewhere lay

a slumbering king

warmed by a cloth

of blue and green

and two connected hearts

of purple-red.

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© 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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For a list (and explanation) of all Mayberrie poems, please click on the “Mayberrie” tab at the top of this blog.

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