November is punishing: cold one day, hot the next. Original rock and a hard place. Then silk. No other word. Not coarse silk. nothing knock-off, but silk from the best silkworms best thread-spinners best dyers best weavers best finishers. Baby-fine best silk. Gossamer but spiderweb spined, kill- to-feel silk warmed to please the most delicate wrist, then ever so slowly, ever so gently allowed to skim skin. Fingered garment masquerading as air caresses and tantalizes until time stops and space stretches and rests. Trees nod and begin to sway to the shhhhh of silk from an unseen fall made special Powder-puffs skiff overhead, but it is the silk that goes to the head to the heart.. Scent not perfume, not quite not that dizzies yet sets things right. Tomorrow slips up, November will be up to its old tricks again. Still feel silk.
A masterpiece of seductive sensory images, Pea! Even as the silk-memories caress, they rebuke... November is sadness, and otherness and fading, as silk fades, when overworn. I, who rebuked silk, now yearn for its luxurious touch.
Been seeing a lot of silk flying these days. Even though I abhor spiders, their webs are wonderous to behold. Excellent, beautiful write...
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. Happy Thanksgiving!
Reviewed by Richard Christopher Suarez (Reader)
Reviewed on November 22, 2005
excellent write and yes Really smooth and it's message is to me;
reminding of the real beauties among the constant nuisance of
life! great!
peace and holy blessings to you!
Rich CRISO
Some times it's cold, some times it's hot -- not just November and when it's hot there's silk "silk that goes to the head". This is one of the most sensual poems I've read in a long time. I didn't just read this poem, I felt it.
It is a poet's job to weave material to carry us through the seasons. The art of poetry lies within different ranges of each poet just like the snowshoe varies by frame shape and weave, each style of poem being particularly suited for that particular poet and the snowshoe being suited particularly to the terrain and type of snow.
The spiral of Finish Satin reminds me of a God's Eye by crossing two sticks and weaving the yarn from top to bottom and across the arm of the cross to take to the altar for the purpose of prayer.
Weaving is a magnificent and functional obsession that circles the globe. A Tibetan refugee woman weaver spins her wool on a wheel made of bicycle parts. The Amazonian woman weaves palm fronds to construct her living quarters. Pea Green weaves poetry from the finest silk making her the satin word QUeeN. So very fine, Pea, you have woven this piece into the likes of our common threads. I LOVE the warm feel of this! Thank you, my Rit and Rhinestone Gliterati friend.
This is utterly gorgeous Pea! Nothing like silk, and the graphic is marvelous! Stunning design! You really sensualized this one;-) woo hoo! silk deserves it;-)
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Happy Holidays,
Victoria
Regis
Happy Thanksgiving!!
Tracey42xoox(c :)
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Very smoothe.
of silk from an unseen fall made special
Wonderful words and images, Phyllis.
Paul;-)
Been seeing a lot of silk flying these days. Even though I abhor spiders, their webs are wonderous to behold. Excellent, beautiful write...
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. Happy Thanksgiving!
reminding of the real beauties among the constant nuisance of
life! great!
peace and holy blessings to you!
Rich CRISO
Carmen :-)
The spiral of Finish Satin reminds me of a God's Eye by crossing two sticks and weaving the yarn from top to bottom and across the arm of the cross to take to the altar for the purpose of prayer.
Weaving is a magnificent and functional obsession that circles the globe. A Tibetan refugee woman weaver spins her wool on a wheel made of bicycle parts. The Amazonian woman weaves palm fronds to construct her living quarters. Pea Green weaves poetry from the finest silk making her the satin word QUeeN. So very fine, Pea, you have woven this piece into the likes of our common threads. I LOVE the warm feel of this! Thank you, my Rit and Rhinestone Gliterati friend.
Sage
Par excellence!!
Love Tinka
Love,
Eileen