The Quilt

The Quilt

A Poem by Emily B
"

Later Version

"

On cold nights with my candle
burning brightly I seamed
multi-colored fabrics,
wool and flax worked by my hands,
linen and silk and cotton prints
bought by my thrift and economy.

Pink and yellow scraps left from
girls frocks and pinafores,
petticoats rustling as they skip
through house and home,
laces and ribbons and silk
line their tiny sewing baskets
as they, too, learn to stitch
doll clothes of their very own.
The girls are a blessing, laughing
brown eyes reading lessons.

Scarlet and purple bits and pieces
left from days of sewing
work dresses and sun bonnets,
those pieces worn as I labored long
about the house and garden,
clothing that protected
my arms and neck from weary hours
working in the summer sun.

Brown and gray from remnants
of the thick jackets and trousers
of solemn and strong brown-eyed boys,
calicoes from shirts that were ripped
breaking the young stud colt,
sturdy clothing from the rough and
tumble boys who work hard at play,
linings from woolen caps and mits
to keep the little ones warm.

And from you, the wool over-shirts
and night shirts and sack coats,
sturdy clothes for a man of virtue.
Our lives twined through the
thread of my needles as I clothed
our family through every season.
Until through quiet industry,
there were enough fabric squares
to cover the big feather bed.

Be not afraid of the snow.
After all the tiny hand-stitches
have finally been completed,
the warm wool-lined coverlet
strengthened with my diligence,
pieced from our every day lives,
will bring comfort to your soul.

Beauty is vain, and time is fleeting.
When I can no longer wrap
you in my arms.
You will still have the work of
my heart to keep you warm.


© 2009 Emily B



Author's Note

Emily B
the note about the seasons caused a change. no matter how old my words are they still find themselves subject to scrutiny.

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Featured Review

This was quite beautiful, both on the surface and metaphorically. When I was a child, my grandmother would stitch quilts--she used fabrics from clothing as well. When her mother passed away, she stitched a quilt for each of us from pieces of her dresses; it was quite special. I could see this unfolding on the page as I read.

Metaphorically, I love the way that you brought in each "player" and showed how despite life's changing seasons, circumstances, etc., if we stitch together the fabrics of those who we love, we will be held together forever. This is creation. Well done.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

My aunt stiched a quilt once, and it was made completely of band t-shirts. I still have that, even to this day, and it brings much comfort.
A beautiful writing Emily.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Emily B

4 Years Ago

store bought blankets can never bring as much comfort as made ones :)
Infinity Blues

4 Years Ago

So very true...
This was quite beautiful, both on the surface and metaphorically. When I was a child, my grandmother would stitch quilts--she used fabrics from clothing as well. When her mother passed away, she stitched a quilt for each of us from pieces of her dresses; it was quite special. I could see this unfolding on the page as I read.

Metaphorically, I love the way that you brought in each "player" and showed how despite life's changing seasons, circumstances, etc., if we stitch together the fabrics of those who we love, we will be held together forever. This is creation. Well done.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This was beautiful Emily.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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DrD
You know, Emily, I was half way through this when I was prepared to be critical of the stanza structure but as I read that became unimportant because something far more meaningful was taking place. I loved this work for its intricacy that led to a final statement pulling it all toether even if the stanzas were not uniform because quilts are like that, aren't they?

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is a saver..my mom made me a quilt of many colors.she was going blind..and I know it was hard for her..but she wanted to give it to me..I cherish that as much as Dolly's Coat of Many Colors..loved this..Kathie

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

pieced from our everyday lives... this is lovely. I love the last bit, especially. I often think about what I will leave behind to comfort my love... this is so poignant.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

beautiful...your words always are...

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Emily B

4 Years Ago

here you are, and i was just wondering how faired the poet girl . . .
i would know this: since my mother has been making quilts and many other things with her sewing machine. You will notice how life gets attached to quilts, fabric old clothes, even handkerchief, becomes part of some of my mothers quilts. then they will live on covering various beds, nieces, brothers sisters grandchildrens' beds; some on walls behind couches, all and all life much as i see in your writing much of the time. you are connecting your world with your poems. bye keith

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I remember reading this some time ago, and I am again reminded what a good poem it is. What is really good is the way the language and style fit the theme, a perfectly crafted poem ( I could give loads of examples, like... tiny hand-stitches) that has a physical affinity to the described objects.Great poem.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on August 20, 2009


Author

Emily B
Emily B

Richmond, KY



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