A lovely poem!

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of the bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.


Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

I found this poem by Yeats that I really liked!

Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
by W. B. Yeats
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Another great poem we read in class!

One Perfect Rose
A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet –
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
‘My fragile leaves,’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

Dorothy Parker

My Poem

We had to either write a love poem or talk about how we would write a love poem for lit class. I chose to write a poem!

The Steps of Marriage

Young Love is like fresh-fallen snow,
Unmarred by footprints of those we know.

Courtship is a time of testing,
Together we decide about our nesting.

Marriage is a bond,
In which to each other we must respond.

And when in death it comes to end,
I will have lost my greatest friend.

– Melissa Velik

I had to read this poem for class!

We are discussing imagery in poems in class.  I had to share this poem with the ladies out there who feel under appreciated, it cracked me up!

What’s That Smell in the Kitchen?

by Marge Piercy

All over America women are burning dinners.
It’s lambchops in Peoria; it’s haddock
in Providence; it’s steak in Chicago;
tofu delight in Big Sur; red
rice and beans in Dallas.
All over America women are burning
food they’re supposed to bring with calico
smile on platters glittering like wax.
Anger sputters in her brainpan, confined
but spewing out missiles of hot fat.
Carbonized despair presses like a clinker
from a barbecue against the back of her eyes.
If she wants to grill anything, it’s
her husband spitted over a slow fire.
If she wants to serve him anything
it’s a dead rat with a bomb in its belly
ticking like the heart of an insomniac.
Her life is cooked and digested,
nothing but leftovers in Tupperware.
Look, she says, once I was roast duck
on your platter with parsley but now I am Spam.
Burning dinner is not incompetence but war.

Another silly quilt poem!


Where can I store more fabric?
My sewing room shelves are crammed!
There’s no more space beneath my bed
And the guest room closet is jammed.
I have a friend with an attic
Who would let me store some there,
But such separation from my treasures
Would be more than I could bear.
Meanwhile there are three bags full
From the big sale I went to today
And I can’t think where to put them —
Or what my dear husband will say!

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse


I found this lovely poem about machine quilting today.  I HATE machine quilting, it really stresses me out.  This poem sums up my fears exactly!

This foot was made for walking.
But not on my machine!
It turns out the weirdest quilting
That I have ever seen!
It sews along quite nicely,
I stop holding my breath,
Then it does a little dance step
And scares me half tio death!
I see a section of stitches
Too small for ripping out,
Then a leap and then a skip —
What is this all about?
A seam on top? The batting?
Am I doing something wrong?
I didn’t dream that machine quilting
Would ever take this long.
The answer’s out there somewhere,
I’ll seek till I understand,
But until I get it sorted out
I just must quilt by hand!

Jacquie Scuitto aka The Muse