“We design our
world, while our world acts back on us and designs us.” - Anne-Marie Willis
This week, Poets United has the theme of “design” and participants are asked to contribute a poem having this motif. Here is mine:
The Weaver
The old woman sits weaving
And weaving, and weaving…
The shuttle flies, the threads lock,
The woven cloth lengthens.
The yarns of many colours,
Form endlessly intricate designs.
And the old woman weaves,
And weaves, and weaves…
The cloth is wound up,
As the shuttle flies.
The loom sings,
The loom cries, tak, tak, tak…
And she weaves on,
Using the yarn until it ends,
Or until it’s cut, or until it breaks –
And the cloth keeps getting woven.
Fancy weaves, and decorations,
Variations, and improvised designs,
Difficult or easy with a myriad of colours
And with a thousand threads.
But the old crone ignores my pleas,
And she sits silent, ever working,
Refusing to weave
Into my life’s cloth, your yarn.
This week, Poets United has the theme of “design” and participants are asked to contribute a poem having this motif. Here is mine:
The Weaver
The old woman sits weaving
And weaving, and weaving…
The shuttle flies, the threads lock,
The woven cloth lengthens.
The yarns of many colours,
Form endlessly intricate designs.
And the old woman weaves,
And weaves, and weaves…
The cloth is wound up,
As the shuttle flies.
The loom sings,
The loom cries, tak, tak, tak…
And she weaves on,
Using the yarn until it ends,
Or until it’s cut, or until it breaks –
And the cloth keeps getting woven.
Fancy weaves, and decorations,
Variations, and improvised designs,
Difficult or easy with a myriad of colours
And with a thousand threads.
But the old crone ignores my pleas,
And she sits silent, ever working,
Refusing to weave
Into my life’s cloth, your yarn.
