Springhouse Quilter's Guild
Quilting Poetry
If you have a favorite quilting poem you'd like to see
entered here, please send it to us in email along with
author's name so that we can give credit to it's creator.
Thanks.
Grandmother's Quilt
One Stitch at a Time
By Ruth Y. Nott - Copyright 2000
Friendships are made one stitch at a time.
A feeling of comfort so hard to define,
Like a fine old quilt is soft and warm,
Friendships enfold and then conform.
Friendships surround, yet set us free
So each person can be what she must be.
Together they grow and soon both find
That friendships are made one stitch at a time!
Quilting Day to Day
By Ruth Y. Nott - Copyright 2000
Sometimes simple, sometimes complex,
Life goes from woof to weave.
Sometimes scrappy, sometimes precise
Are the patterns we conceive.
But when our days pucker and pull,
And all come apart at the seams,
When we don't quite know what happened,
And don't know what it all means,
Just ask the Teacher for His advice
And quickly you will find
It's all sorted out in perfect order
On the tabletop of your mind.
Your colors will brighten and always hold true
When they shine in His light from above.
Your seams will be straight and each block will square
When they're all sewn together with love!
Our Quilt of Life
By Ruth Y. Nott - Copyright 2000
If we stitch with love our quilt of life,
Each seam will handle stress and strife.
Yet some stitches go and some we keep
In making each lovely block complete.
So as each day rolls slowly 'round,
May threads of happiness in your needle be found,
And may the block you quilt today
Be one you'll always want to save!
The following poem was found embroidered on a quilt at a quilt show we attended.
The quiltmaker did not know the author's name.
Feed Sack Underwear
When I was a maiden fair
Mama made our underwear.
With seven kids and Dad's poor pay
How could she buy lingerie?
Monograms and fancy stitches
Were not on our feed sack britches -
Panty waists that stood the test
With Purina across the chest -
Little pants, the best of all
With seams that I can still recall.
Harvesters were gleaning wheat
Right across the little seat!
Tougher than a grizzly bear
Was our feed sack underwear.
Plain or fancy, two feet wide,
Stronger than a hippo's hide.
Through the years, each Jack and Jill
Wore this garb against their will.
Waste not, want not, we soon learned...
A penny saved is a penny earned!
Dresses, curtains, dish towels too
And pillow ships to name a few,
But the best beyond compare
Was always our feed sack underwear!
Memories of My Keepsake Quilt
By: Maude Williamson English
As you so calmly view my quilts
Of red and green and blue,
They seem a jumbled lot of goods
And tangled floss to you.
But when I fondly gaze at them
Through smiles, or maybe tears,
They tell me many a thrilling tale
Of all the bygone years.
This piece of bright red calico
To you means nothing more.
To me--it's my first day at school,
I'm six years old once more.
I see again that old schoolhouse.
I see the home-nest too,
My father, mother, brother Jim,
My gentle sister Sue.
This tiny piece of yellowed white,
To me has much to say,
For I'm a blushing bride once more,
And this--my wedding day.
I see the little, brown stone church,
The faces of my friends,
I hear "Until death do you part,"
And then the service ends.
And we go forth on unknown seas,
Our niche in life to fill,
And all the world is at our feet
To conquer as we will.
This dainty piece of pink and white
Bids all past years depart.
My first-born baby once more lies
Close to my mother-heart.
And I again live o'er those days,
And thrill again with joy
O'er that wee mite--just his and mine--
Our own first baby boy!
With reverence--this dainty blue
I see through blinding tears
The little girl God beckoned to
Back through the bygone years.
And so all woven through my quilts,
Are woven days of life,
The high days and the holidays,
The days of joy and strife.
And, when I leave God's footstool here
To cross death's narrow sea,
I'll wrap these memories round my soul
And take them Home with me.
For Baby
By Nancy Riddell of Loveland, CO
It's OK if you sit on your quilt.
It's OK if your bottle gets spilt.
If you swallow some air
And you burp, don't despair,
It's OK if you spit on your quilt.
There are scraps old and new on your quilt.
Put together for you on your quilt.
If your gums feel numb
'Cause your teeth haven't come,
It's OK if you chew on your quilt.
We expect you to lie on your quilt.
If you hurt, you may cry on your quilt.
On a cold rainy night,
Don't you fret; you're all right'
You'll be snug, warm and dry on your quilt.
(This poem was suggested to use as a label on any baby quilt. The message tells the new mother that the quilt is intended to be used. )
Garden in the Shade
By Kimberley K. Beason
I've memories of a childhood on grandma's feather bed,
when on lazy summer afternoons, I'd lay my weary head.
And across the bed the quilt was spread that grandma's hands had made,
with bits of flowered calico -- my garden in the shade.
The colors would enchant me, as my eyes kept sleep at bay,
until my dreams enticed me to other gardens, far away.
And even though I'm grown now, the memory still stands,
of my garden made of calico, that was sewn with loving hands.
The Quilt
Author Unknown
As I faced my Maker at the last judgement, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles.
An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life. But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.
I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been.
My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it.
I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.
And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air.
I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ.
Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you."
My prayer is that all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through.
Our Friendship is a Patchwork Quilt
Author Unknown
Our friendship is a patchwork quilt, a beautiful design,
stitched with heart-made patterns, uniquely yours and mine.
It's made of scraps of memory and joys of every hue,
colorful together times, with laughter woven through.
Our friendship's stuffed with kindness and filled to overflowing
with heartfelt understanding, warmly comforting and knowing.
Our friendship's bound to last the years, for every cherished part
is seamed with care and sewn with love... an heirloom work of heart.
Quilt Husband's Lament
She learned to quilt on Monday. Her stitches all were fine.
She forgot to thaw out dinner. so we went out to dine.
She quilted miniatures on Tuesday. she says they are a must.
They really were quite lovely. But she forgot to dust.
On Wednesdays it was a sampler. She says stipling's fun.
What highlights! What Shadows! But the laundry wasn't done.
Her patches were on Thursday - Green, yellow, blue and red.
I guess she was really engrossed. She never made the bed.
It was wall hangings on Friday, in colors she adores.
It never bothered her at all, those crumbs there on the floor.
I found a maid on Saturday! My week is now complete.
My wife can quilt the hours away and the house will still be neat.
Now here I am on Sunday. I think I'm about to wilt.
I cursed, I raved, I ranted, ‘cause the MAID has learned to QUILT!
Author Unknown
ARE YOU SAFE?
Is your fabric addiction a serious case?
Can you pass a quilt shop without stopping?
For the fabrics you buy, do you have enough space?
Is your life devoted to shopping?
If you're hooked and really not carin',
Then quilting must be your new passion!
Exposure to quilt shops and the fabrics therein,
Is a thing the susceptible should ration.
Be sensible, strong and limit your visits
To these dens of textilean seduction.
Say 'No' now and then just to show that you can.
Claim you're practicing safe stash reduction.
It may well not help -- once you have been hooked
On the thrill of the fabric chase,
‘Cause nothing can quite match the feeling you get
When your purchase is home and in place!
Jacquie Scuitto
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