14 Aug 2013

Shelter from the rain.....A new pure stitch piece.

 
 
This stitch piece, was done on pure cotton canvas, with black thread.
I free machine embroidered the piece, using my sewing machine.
 
I like to base my work on poems and illustrations that I have worked out myself and then use these as a basis to stitch........
 
The piece was based on a poem that I wrote and a watercolor piece,  which I have pictured first.  The below stitch outcome has been designed through inspiration through the poem (as written below) and watercolours.....
 

The Torn Umbrella

 

She stood,

Uncontrollably sombre,

Staring at the grey forlorn sky,

It seems to slowly engulf her,

Tainting her mood with its own.

 

She didn’t realise how long she had been

Standing there,

It had seemed like seconds,

But her feet were sore.

 

A storm has come,

Unable to move,

A brief blank expression

Frames her face,

Time had worn down,

Her former grace.

 

Standing uncovered,

The storm slowly evolving above,

Detains her mind,

Slowly seeping away,

The thoughts behind,

Carrying her away.

 

Quick enough to stay,

She plays her last card,

The plastic umbrella that has

Become her guard.

 

Someone is near,

Yet she does not hear,

They stand close,

Staring at her fragile existence,

Reaching up to her umbrella,

Gently tearing particles

From its frame,

Helping the storm to gain.

 

Both stay in a stance,

But she does not like this unemployed

Gesture,

Fending for herself,

She lays a hand

On the frames shoulder,

Making clear her distant view,

Never to ensue.

 

The person remains in silence,

Holing onto possibilities,

A determined character,

Willing to wait.
 

A tree stands near,

Time twisted all over its chest,

Even leading up to its arms,

These have bred to become many.

 

She stares at the twisted branches

 Of time,

Seeing the contradictions they behold,

 

She must though make a choice,

To let in,

Or let go,

She must know.

 

Her skeletons frame wears thin,

A quick decision must commence,

 

No protection is best,

She gets so wet,

The clouds anger sustaining,

This watery flow,

It feels so good,

A setting free,

Now a victim of what might

Be.

 

Time is all she needs to repair,

The umbrella must be torn,

No shelter for protection,

From the hurtful sentiments of rain.

Only then will she learn to trust,

What she loves and must.

 

No clouds or storms will envelop her,

No umbrellas to hide her

From the rain.

Only a new jacket,

 With the option of a hood;

This way she can still see

What is good,

But is never far from the protection,

And the affection she needs.

 

With this option of a hood,

Yet this time a vague uncertainty,

And a reluctance for it to be used.

Never again will a plastic protection

Be abused.
 

The form still beside her….
 

Yes sadness could grow,

Yet happiness may also sow.

 
 
 
 

 



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