Silk Carpets
As we stood around the great vat of water
filled with cocoons of silkworms
bobbing on the surface
saw the manager of the carpet factory
lift one high
saw a fine strong strand stray off
find its way to the spindle
on the other side, soon
to be sorted , dyed, woven
into prized Turkish rugs
I saw my life
an endless moment
in the sweep of hours
that make eternity
spun by silkworms
raised on mulberry leaves
in the South of France
saw a strong, yet fragile thread
unravel from a cocoon
held in God's hand
wind around the spindle
of my days, be woven
by unseen angels
into the unique tapestry
which holds, and shows,
my story.
Whispers
Grace
a silken scarf
on the bared shoulders
of my soul
allows me to stay serene
in a world where
madness reigns
or seems to reign
weather patterns gone berserk
chemical weapons in Syria
earthquakes in China
children shot
in Sandy Hook
to be safe
to smile
though to do so
afloat in a sea of destruction
seems sacrilegious somehow
yet
on my patio
sweet in the morning light
the silken scarf flutters
lifts
and there is Dame Julian of Norwich
holding a hazel nut
whispering
through the stone
of her medieval cell
“all manner of thing shall be well”
Witness
Hush. Miracles happen
quietly. If I sit here and watch
the rose will surely open
the fat red bud unfurl, like one of those
slow-motion nature photos.
The wonder of it
glues me to the chair
willing the petals
to peel back, reveal the secret
the soul of the rose.
It is happening! After
only an hour outer petals
curl away from
the tight-fisted bud, one
closest to me lays itself open
reveals astonishing reds
brilliant near the bud, blending
to crimson, almost black
creation compressed
in one small perfect petal.
Lois Read, retired art teacher and painter turned poet, has produced three chapbooks of poems with watercolors and two collections of poetry. She has had poems in The Connecticut River Review and the Poetry of Yoga (vol.2), and won honorable mention in the Maria Faust sonnet contest two years ago. Her poem “Bones” was judged fifteenth out of 4000 entries is the Writers' Digest Poetry contest in 2013. Read lives in Connecticut at 51 Ashlar Village, Wallingford, 06492, phone 203-294-0462, except in the winter when she lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where she can be reached by email at loisfay@sbcglobal.net.
As we stood around the great vat of water
filled with cocoons of silkworms
bobbing on the surface
saw the manager of the carpet factory
lift one high
saw a fine strong strand stray off
find its way to the spindle
on the other side, soon
to be sorted , dyed, woven
into prized Turkish rugs
I saw my life
an endless moment
in the sweep of hours
that make eternity
spun by silkworms
raised on mulberry leaves
in the South of France
saw a strong, yet fragile thread
unravel from a cocoon
held in God's hand
wind around the spindle
of my days, be woven
by unseen angels
into the unique tapestry
which holds, and shows,
my story.
Whispers
Grace
a silken scarf
on the bared shoulders
of my soul
allows me to stay serene
in a world where
madness reigns
or seems to reign
weather patterns gone berserk
chemical weapons in Syria
earthquakes in China
children shot
in Sandy Hook
to be safe
to smile
though to do so
afloat in a sea of destruction
seems sacrilegious somehow
yet
on my patio
sweet in the morning light
the silken scarf flutters
lifts
and there is Dame Julian of Norwich
holding a hazel nut
whispering
through the stone
of her medieval cell
“all manner of thing shall be well”
Witness
Hush. Miracles happen
quietly. If I sit here and watch
the rose will surely open
the fat red bud unfurl, like one of those
slow-motion nature photos.
The wonder of it
glues me to the chair
willing the petals
to peel back, reveal the secret
the soul of the rose.
It is happening! After
only an hour outer petals
curl away from
the tight-fisted bud, one
closest to me lays itself open
reveals astonishing reds
brilliant near the bud, blending
to crimson, almost black
creation compressed
in one small perfect petal.
Lois Read, retired art teacher and painter turned poet, has produced three chapbooks of poems with watercolors and two collections of poetry. She has had poems in The Connecticut River Review and the Poetry of Yoga (vol.2), and won honorable mention in the Maria Faust sonnet contest two years ago. Her poem “Bones” was judged fifteenth out of 4000 entries is the Writers' Digest Poetry contest in 2013. Read lives in Connecticut at 51 Ashlar Village, Wallingford, 06492, phone 203-294-0462, except in the winter when she lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where she can be reached by email at loisfay@sbcglobal.net.
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