Just how much love might fill a thimble,
humble, nimble tool to hold,
mending sock, as foot-strong secret,
Jack in smaller step to wander?
This sweeter,
round, overlooked invention,
gifted finger's introspective, artisan
afterthought,
is soul protecting scar, from denting thumb,
when chore is more than shearing fleece.
I am work I wake by healing,
peace penetrating power through numbered nerves,
and blundered rain-paths, conserving paw from slivered sting,
gaining strength, by pulling point from painful muscle;
this kneaded needle, circumcised from cross,
and taught to mend, blending stress with new expression,
till bold enough to follow pattern,
in clock's last talk of tearful prism;
far from fear, and careless piercing,
limb stringing thread beyond possession.
In God we mend, stitching step to line,
his stardust, sharing evening glitter,
awakening diamond quasar's quivering,
when hand is whole to hold another.
I am not
the prized, collected mother,
dead with waiting on sacred shelf, glazed with wish,
like guest-stones staring porcelain
in ceramic stays of accidental execution,
figurine enclosed,
as forgotten fossil,
not to touch through threaded thrust,
and close this gap of torn transmission;
but perhaps,
to care,
when moment's there,
and passion swills your hollow weaving
to gown in blush of eyes,
conceiving.
In a list
A contest entry
- Commitment Challenge #8 - Invitation Only by CarolDesjarlais.
2000 points, ended August 18, 2008, 3 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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from the dynamic graphic to the last syllable, i was held by this poem and presentation; thimble the humble vessel of care, the measure of the smaller virtues and truths, some amazing phrasings and imagery here... the thimble was one of the first memories of my childhood a tool i could relish and understand even then. Such a refreshing theme and a creative concept ...PK
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What an incredibly pwoerful souful write... and the middle
"In God we mend, stitching step to line,
his stardust, sharing evening glitter,
awakening diamond quasar's quivering,
when hand is whole to hold another."
How aboslutely intregal this is to the poem....to the thoughts that rise and swirl and find their way home in the tapesty. -
I have been contemplating the word "thimble" for a while now and here's your thimble-poem this morning: you filled it with poetry... what a wonderful spiritual quality about this poem - so much light.
~ Nicolette
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"I am not
the prized, collected mother,
dead with waiting on sacred shelf, glazed with wish,
like guest-stones staring porcelain
in ceramic stays of accidental execution"
Now that, my dear Friend, is committment at its finest & most profound. Absolutely beautiful writing, Scribe. My, how you have grown...
-
R~
WOW!! What a great job you did on this one! You know, I was not quite sure what to expect with the title, but like always you blew my mind, with a splendid read! This is fantastic!!
Best of luck in this contest!
Nyetta
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