There is a singular thread’s curse.
Ends many a tapestry
before the full story gleaned
majestic scenes completed in weave.
Tales woven in blood and bone
honed by heart and nerve. This curse:
Time. Steals the strength from the thews,
dulls the brilliant mind, stills the valiant heart.
Is it accident or coincidence that allows
the arrow to find the heart,
the asp to bite the heel? The mural
falls to dust, swept aside.
The maiden’s heart, the children’s wail
will never turn time’s measure of death aside.
We are never free of tragedy as long
as the length of the race is decided
for autocratic pleasure. The measure of the cloth
lost when only a single thread decides the truth
what we call chance, luck or circumstance.
The full features of the loom unknown
the artistry of the comb to oft’ cut short
until we can abort the weaving of the thread
to which all other measurements bow their heads.
10:14 PM
05/24/08
Alexandria, VA
A contest entry
- Weaving by CarolDesjarlais.
600 points, ended May 25, 2008, 9 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think, what it makes you feel, how you are moved.
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
-
Tomis B
Such a wonderful weaving of words put together.
I seemed to have been drawn to this part, it stood out to me as a reader of such fine poetry.
The measure of the cloth
lost when only a single thread decides the truth
what we call chance, luck or circumstance.
This is very deeply understood to a single thread making the decision to life.
Lifetime
-
-
I am healthy as a horse
But the dice rolled wrong and I had a clot show up in the vein leaving my left retina. Now I am hopefully healing and the vision will return. Luck? Fate? A lesson to be learned? or, perhaps the warp and woof of this weave decided that this color should bleed across the cloth. Time measure a pace we cannot control and yet love knows nothing of time or space. We are the place where many realities come to haunt the same vessal.
Thanks for sharing how you are touched. I am honored.
Love, Tom B. -
-
Praying for a speedy healing my friend.
I knew about your eye and have been praying, you will be fine.
Love knows nothing of time or space,this is spoken truth.
Realities haught the same vessel...I know this feeling all to well.
No it is me that should be honored to read your work.
A beautiful soul writes his stories out with heart and a brillent mind.
Love,
Lifetime
-
-
-
Golden Words
Just magnificent Tom; we are the threads that hold the blankets of life together. You know a torn, rag of a blanket is missing some the threads and that is where the blanket weakens. I saw, felt this read. I Know as a older one in my family I find myself as one of the threads, that has to be strong many times, keeping my piety first. I love this poem..if the shoe fits, I have to wear it..I saw myself...excellent piece of poetic art......novy
God Bless You my friend
-
-
The norns have their sisscors handy to cut the thread of every one when all is done and said. The time we curse and waste we pray to keep forever on end when the moment comes when it will end.
We bind and tie in relationships the heart and soul so that we are of each others weave. It makes it hard when a thread unravels or is broken before the course is run.
Yes, I understand. At least as best as this man can.
Love, Tom B.
-
-
That one stray strand......the one that connects all to the One...that's the one that counts, methinks. Lovely use of language for metaphor..... ty so much for entering.
-
-
We are such a collection of threads and each in it weave through warp and woof changes how the story of life is seen. There are those that exist beyond the sluice of time and bring us into the arms of the divine. These move from lifetime to lifetime and maintain our roots so deeply spread.
Love, Tom B.
-
-
This does talk of how fragile it all is, you weave brilliance with every thread in this and you know I love you for doing it just the way it is
Love,C
-
-
We think we are in control and create the cloth of our life with the wisdom of mind and soul. But, so much is circumstance, good luck and providence.
Love, Tom B.
-
-
time. well it doesn't read hurried...
I saw how fragile we are. The heart thread, the appendix thread, the childbirth thread. Pull to hard, we unravel. -
-
The contest said weave and so I wove. Chose the dance of brilliance called man and then saw how damned because of the fragile single thread.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing with me what you had found.
Peace & Light
Tom B.
-
-
Careful, the wolf may get you! Just for making the effort. Juls & Chez
-
-
I stayed up late, eschewed the sleep that called to me, just so I could cull the words necessary to create this poem. Stop back by and you can see what happens when the wolf is running freee and not chained to the door.
Love, Tom B. -
-
I am so glad that you stayed awhile to let the wolf free. Occassionally 'time' can be a curse. You just have to make the best of what we have. Love Juls
-
-
-
lmbo you sound like me lol
-
-
The poem is written if you wish to see the result of my decisions about what should be the proper cut to my poetic weave.
Love, Tom B.
-
-
lol...that is funny. I bet if you put your mind to it you can! lol ~Sie
-
-
The final is up for you to sip and see if it delights the soul.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 18 of 18
