Pages

Sunday, October 23, 2016

An Angel Story

My poetry I have sewn, reflecting times in my life,
pricking my thumb, when I can't get it right,
afternoon delight.

 I ponder my thoughts,
embroidering my poetic quilt.

 Collecting memories,
some good some bad,

 some even sad.
Giving  intense thought,
to feather this quilt.

Sunday, October 09, 2016

For Christmas

Can you put your hand upon your heart?
And say you finish all you start
That in your cupboard there is not
A project started and forgot
Of half done things your shelves are bare
There is no skeleton lurking there?
Either my friend you tell a lie
Or have more ruthlessness than I

 What of the set of place mats there?
A Christmas gift for yesteryear
Designs I like technique is good
I’ll finish them I know I should
About that cushion at the back
Why choose white instead of black?
There’s the pile of blocks I won last year
I almost forgot that they were there

 Our quilting things are a part of us
Is it fair to them to leave them thus?
They helped us make each forward stride
Why should they just be pushed aside?
Turn them into things we can all admire
By using the skills they helped you acquire
With a conscience clear, and a space you gain
And you could start the rigmarole again!

Saturday, October 01, 2016

Saturday, September 24, 2016

So Many





There's so many things to say,
but you already know.



 There's so much I want to tell,
'cause you get it all somehow.


 There's a lot of memories,
and they will never end.

 There's nothing that I wouldn't tell,
I know you know it's true.

 There's so many things to say,



Tuesday, September 20, 2016

angel


it's like angel wings                    
opening, by morning dawn 
sunshine on my lawn 

Saturday, September 03, 2016

Things


“We love the things we love
 for what they are.”




 “The most important thing is to enjoy your life
to be happy
it's all that matters.”
  

Sunday, August 21, 2016

The Rowdy Flat Library quilt


When the sun rises over the horizon,
the butterfly emerges to dance in its brilliant light.
It flickers its colorful wings with euphoria,
To celebrate all the beauty found
in the majestic garden of life.

When the moon arrives in the darkness,
The moth appears at the disappearance of sunlight.
It flickers its pale wings as it shakes from its deep slumber,
To go search for food
To carry it through the night.

The moth prefers the moon and detests the sun,
while the butterfly loves the sun and hides from the moon.
Every living creature responds to light,
But depending on the amount of light you have inside,
Determines which lamp in the sky
Your heart will swoon.

the chapman quilt

Day after day the pattern grew;
Each block was deftly set in place,
And rows of tiny stitches tell
A tale that time cannot efface.
Of patience, skill, housewifely pride,
Of women's love for pretty thing,
Of fingers trained such work to do
By those who know the joy it btings,
Of time within the home weel spent,
The heart with homely tasks content.

Sunday, July 03, 2016

Discloth quilt





The sun has such a pretty quilt
Each night he goes to bed,



It's made of lavender and gold,
With great long stripes of red.

 And bordered by the softest tints
Of all the shades of gray.


 It's put together by the sky,
And quilted by the day.






Thursday, June 02, 2016

Schottelslet



"Versleten,
lig jij dan nu in de kast!
Nu zijn ze je vergeten,
maar vroeger, werd jij schotetteldoek,
steeds weer opnieuw verrast!!!

Je leven begon voor een baby, ozo klein.
er was nog geen luier, dus maar jou!
Maar bij de kleine wezen, vond jij fijn
het voelde warm en tergelijk `koud`!

Maar het kindje werd groot
en had een viese neus...
Het jonge ding wist niet waar het in
snoot!!
geen zakdoek maar de schotteldoek;
serieus!!

Ook voor een omgevallen beker ranje,
of het afvegen van viese billen!!
de schotteldoek was er goed voor,
het was soms om te gillen!!

Zoals die ene keer...
de w.c. werd schoongemaakt;
Onze schotteldoek vloog alweer!!!
Zelfs toen er werd gebraakt!!!

Tja, het leven van de schotteldoek ging
niet over rozen.
Zijn leven is een beschreven boek;
waar niet is voor gekozen!!



Ramen werden er mee gelapt,
als stofdoek door het huis!!
Lekker mee als kleed tijdens picknicken
in het bos;
o, voor het vangen van een veldmuis!!

Ook als hoofddoek bij de schoonmaak,
en bij de vaat;gedroogd werd hier
alles mee!!
`even de schotteldoek`; werd gezeg
zo vaak!!
Zelfs op vakantie naar de Noord-Zee!!!

Nu is de schotteldoek versleten;
en denkt aan zijn oude dag!
Maar o nee; de kast gaat alweer open..
want met een oude doek,
kan een ieder nog lekker aan de slag!!".

Sunday, May 22, 2016

May


 "'Tis like the birthday of the world,
When earth was born in bloom;



 The light is made of many dyes,
The air is all perfume:


 There's crimson buds, and white and blue,
The very rainbow showers





 Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
And sown the earth with flowers."




Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Needle work









The only place where housework comes before needlework 
is in the dictionary. 

 ~Mary Kurtz

Monday, May 16, 2016

THE NEEDLE AND THREAD





The Needle and Thread one day were wed,
    The Thimble acted as priest,
A paper of Pins, and the Scissors twins
   Were among the guests at the feast.

That dandy trim the Bodkin slim
    Danced with Miss Tape-measure,
But he stepped on her trail, and she called him "a whale,"
    And that put an end to their pleasure

Wrinkled and fat the Beeswax sat 
    And talked with the Needle-case.
"I am glad," she said, "that my niece, the Thread,
    Has married into this race.

"Her mother, the Spool, was a dull old fool,
    And the Needle and Thread were shy;
The result you see came all through me,
    I taught her to catch his eye."

    The Emery-ball just there had a fall--
       She had danced too long at one time,
    And that put a stop to the merry hop,
       And that brings an end to my rhyme.

The groom and the bride took their wedding ride
       Down a long white-seam to the shore,
    And the guests all said there never was wed
       So fair a couple before.
The Beautiful Land of Nod by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago: Morrill, Higgins & Co. [1892]

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

snow in april






 Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish life was never ending
And all good things, they say, never last


Sunday, March 20, 2016

blue bird lane



 The birds sing their melody
The dew on the spider’s beautiful web
I love Spring for itself

Sunday, February 21, 2016

blue bird lane



pretty little cottages
all in a row
Geese white as cotton
happily chase bugs amongst the field flowers



blue birds dart from branch to branch
singing their pretty song
as I pass by down the lane


put together quilt as you go 

Friday, February 05, 2016

Take a picture


Not so easy to take a picture
when the cats want to play

just take the pictures
anyway

It is the basket quilt
to be
the moda mandjesquilt
a groep set up by  jeannet


Sunday, January 10, 2016

Chickens

Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.

They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.

Monday, January 04, 2016

Monday

A cold monday morning
A bit of snow
sliding in to the new week


Thursday, December 31, 2015

Smile

It was late last night
There he was, home again

A bit shaken and hungry
and I was very happy



Wednesday, December 30, 2015

I do not understand

one cat is home save
one cat is gone

fire works all day long
and not old year yet

poor kitty,s poor dogs
poor birds  poor animals

Poor Earth

when will we learn

Blue Bird


I had a dream of bluebirds flying in the sky
singing songs of love as they were flying by
flying all in unison singing all in tune
my heart began to melt as they began to croon



 with there bright blue feathers flying high above
singing all together there lovely song of love
i wont forget the dream or the bluebirds that i saw
i hope that they return in to my dreams once more

Follow your dreams