My Stitched Darlings

“Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough… Make good art.” ~ Neil Gaiman

Most things are born screaming,
fighting a world too new
to be wanted by any.

Not you, my stitched darlings.

You crawled out of me
serene (dark ink kissing paper
tasting of coffee or tea),
imagination and patience
making new out of old.

I love watching you grow,

my stitched darlings, watching you
being wanted by (m)any hearts…
and being loved (so loved) by me.

the (not so) wee notes…
– I started stitching poetry in an effort to fight a combination of injury and disease that was stiffening my hands—handwriting and stitching requires specific movements that exercise tiny muscles that would not get a daily workout otherwise. I really liked the stitched results, loved them even. So, I started collecting them. Then, my friend Emma suggested they were so cool that I should consider making them available for purchase.

I giggled at her loving silliness. Who would want to buy this stuff, really? I thought. I love them because I love everything that is mine. Emma loves them because she loves me (she’s insane like that). Then, strangers who saw my stitched words on Instagram started asking if I sold them. When I said, “Of course”, they began to buy them. Yes, I’m still a tad surprised, but also proud… of my stitched darlings.

–  Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ A Glance at Narrative. K, asks us to “think of some story in writing [a] poem.” I’m handfasting K’s prompt to Paul’s Scribble It, which invites us to birth poetry “that speaks in some way of a ‘First Time’”. Also adding to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 364.

Another Note (for those who’ve emailed me about my shop’s opening date): my online store will open in September. I apologize for the delays… It’s just that life insists on throwing wrenches my way. And I can only dance so fast… But September seems all right (for now… we don’t want to tempt Fate, do we? And yes, by “we” I mean “me”).

You Must Taste the Thorns

“…it is true, poetry is delicious.” ~ Virginia Woolf

I know love works
not like a machine. Still,
its parts must
be handled with precision,
touched only by a heart
that understands how
love truly works,

when artistically twisted;

you must taste the thorns,
if you wish to eat sweet fruit
from lips worth your while,

you must

birth wild things—
moons, succulent cackles
and belief-made rainbows,

you must

be the story
that inspires you
(and your wants)

to dream tangible realities,
you must be you…

always you.

the wee notes…
– The 1st, 3rd and 5th stanzas of this poem were birthed separately. You can glimpse the originals on Instagram: 1st (handwritten on a coffee filter), 5th (blacked out from quotes of mine), 3rd (inspired by the thorny blood orange plant *see below*).
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.