The Sewing Machine

This is a true story about something strange that happened to me at Halloween....

My mother used to make my clothes,

When I was just a kid.

She bought a small sewing machine,

A 'Singer', for five quid.

She'd make me pretty dresses,

From a length of printed cotton,

Her clever skill and willingness

Will never be forgotten.

 

Our friends and neighbours all came round,

To have their garments altered,

She always did a perfect job,

Her stitches never faltered.

When I came home from school,

I'd find her at the sewing table,

The Singer running up the seams,

As fast as it was able.

 

I often wished that I possessed

My mom's sewing prowess,

But when I tried dressmaking,

I just made rather a mess!

My mother used to shake her head,

Then put right what I'd started.

She passed away three years ago.

It left me broken hearted.

 

I had to sort through her effects,

And found my mom's old Singer.

Around that old sewing machine

Her spirit seemed to linger.

I couldn't bear to part with it,

So kept it for myself.

I took it home, and put it in the attic,

On a shelf.

 

I didn't think I'd use it,

But just lately I've grown thin.

My clothes have got so baggy,

That they needed taking in.

I fetched the Singer from the loft,

To see if it still worked.

The motor whirred! The bobbin spun!

The needle never shirked.

The sound of that old Singer

Made my mother seem so near.

Then something spooky happened,

It was really very queer.

 

I started on my sewing,

Though it wasn't going well.

I wasn't stitching straight,

The seams were crooked, I could tell.

I left the Singer,

While I went to get my mobile phone.

I heard a noise -

The Singer started sewing on its own!

From right across the room,

I watched the Singer whirr and sew,

With no foot on the pedal switch,

To make the motor go.

 

I ran across the room,

And cut the power at the plug,

Then getting out the Scotch bottle,

I took a healthy slug!

My pulse raced as I thought

About the sight that I had seen.

What unseen force had operated

My mom's old machine?

 

Had my mother's spirit come back,

To show me how it's done?

Just like she used to do,

To finish off what I'd begun.

Or was it just a power fault

That made the motor go,

While no one was near the machine?

I guess I'll never know.

 

The Singer's gone back up the loft,

I thought that it was best.

I'll have to buy some new clothes,

If I want to be well dressed!

And if garments hang loose on me,

Because I've grown too svelte,

To make my trousers fit -

Well, I'll just have to wear a belt!

Author's Note

If you enjoyed this poem, why not check out my new book entitled, ‘Things Can Only Get Verse' - a collection of humorous poems on a variety of subjects, including: social network addiction, self-service checkout machines, having a hangover, internet dating, dieting, online auctions, getting older, and more. Available on Amazon for only £4.00/$6.00. Life is more fun when it rhymes!

Reviews

[JoeM]

Thand'a again for showing me a slice of your life. I feel I'm gradually getting to know you. Not biblically, of course.

[Viv Wade]

Yes, I think we all put something of ourselves in our writing, and this poem is all true! It's nice that someone wants to share it with me.

[Stan Lee]

Spectacular. I always enjoy your poems. :) The story line is entertaining and rhymes exceptionally well.

[Viv Wade]

Thanks Andronicus, I'm glad you liked it.

[Samuel Dickens]

This is a terrific, heartfelt story, Viv, and it's constructed with great rhymes and creativity. Perhaps because my mother made clothes on a Singer, too, it had extra meaning for me.

[Viv Wade]

Well, it shook me up when it happened, so putting it all down in a rhyme helped to calm me down a bit. Ah, those good old Singer sewing machines - if it wasn't for them, there would have been a lot of poorly dressed kids running around years ago!

[Samuel Dickens]

I thought you were joking about the machine starting by itself! Yes, back in the attic with that one.

[Viv Wade]

Nope, true story!