|Posted by email@example.com on September 30, 2011 at 1:15 PM||comments (1)|
These two poems are thought-provoking to me. The first one I can relate to as I have two Sunbonnet Sue quilts to finish. They were started by my uncle's grandmother and have stayed in the family, unfinished, for a number of years. I'm looking forward to finishing them but I still haven't decided on the perfect way to do it. The second one speaks of long-term priorities. The authors are unknown. Enjoy!
Dear unknown lady of the past,
I hold your work within my hands;
A top with pattern gay and pure,
A frayed edge reveals loose strands.
The design is made of tiny scraps,
Set in a plain sugar sack ground.
Such tiny little stitches made -
A soft blue border around.
Where did you sit while piecing this?
Upon a stool by firelight bright?
Or slowly rocking on the porch
As the tired day drew into night?
What were your cares while you did work?
What plans and dreams did you spin?
I wonder why your work was stopped.
Why quilting never did begin.
My mind is filled with questions.
Were you just a girl or someone's wife?
Was yours a path of leisure?
Or a journey filled with strife?
I'll quilt this top, dear lady,
With patterns swirled and flowery,
And bond with one I'll never meet
In a sisterhood of stitchery.
My neighbor is washing her windows,
And scrubbing and mopping her floors,
But my house is all topsy and turvey,
And dust is behind all the doors.
My neighbor,she keeps her house spotless,
And she goes all day on a trot:
But no one would know in a fortnight
If she swept today or not.
The task I am at is enticing -
My neighbor is worn to a rag -
I am making a quilt out of pieces
I saved in a pretty chintz bag.
And the quilt, I know my descendants
Will exhibit with credit to me -
"So lovely - my grandmother made it
Long ago in 1933."
But will her grandchildren remember
Her struggles with dirt and decay?
They will not - they will wish she had made them
The quilt I am making today.
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on September 4, 2011 at 8:35 PM||comments (0)|
In some random Sunday Googling, I came across the following poems that I thought I'd share. The author is unknown to both of them. I can relate to this one oh so well!
My Wife, the Quilter
Well, it's already Sunday.
I think I'm about to wilt.
I cursed, I raved, I ranted--
The MAID has learned to quilt!!
This one makes me think of the poem "The Plan of the Master Weaver."
I Think God is a Quilter
|Posted by email@example.com on April 8, 2011 at 7:50 PM||comments (0)|