by Paganini Jones
Look at her hands, at the needle and thread,
And the fabrics of folk in her heart
Touch the lines and the needle-pricked thumbs
and the patches fraying apart.
This cloth, she says, was a bridesmaids dress
And this was a summer skirt.
This was your Dads and this was my Mams
And this from your uncles shirt
The colours have dimmed in this family quilt
but her love holds the threads together.
Author's Note: Written simply to play with the form and see how it sat on the paper... (edited)
Posted on 07/07/2004
Copyright © 2020 Paganini Jones
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Maureen Glaude on 07/07/04 at 09:24 PM|
well-designed I'd say. Thanks for the beauty.
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 07/08/04 at 06:13 AM|
The fabric of the poem holds together as well as the memory and the words. Excellent job of playing with words. More, please?
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/10/04 at 03:50 PM|
Wonderful poem in the words of your mother (?). I like how the different family members' clothes/cloth also metaphorically reflect the differences in personality. A diverse quiltwork as with any family. Quite insightful.