I loved the Wreath of Roses, the Rose of Sharon, too--
But Grandmother's favorite was the True Lover's Knot in blue

                                                     Author: Carlie Sexton
 

MY MOTHER'S QUILTS
Within our sitting room a table stood,
Made by my father out of cherry wood,
On which thru summer day and winter night
A basket rested full of patches bright;
And from those scraps of variegated shades
My mother planned the many quilts she made,
From muslin and cretonne by some deft spell
Forming the flowers she loved so well;
The crimson tulip and the wild rose, too,
Were fashioned, each in its own shape and hue;
The drooping lily bent its modest head,
The pink carnations' perfume seemed to shed.

Oft from the brass-bound chest her quilts I take,
And from their folds the scented herb leaves shake;
Then on her own great, square four-post bed
The cunning labor of her hands I spread;
With lingering caress I softly touch
The beauty, oddly quaint, she prized so much,
While memory brings back the homely room
Where those bright blocks of flowers flamed in bloom.

Now for long years her patient toil is o'er;
Her quilt hands create her dreams no more;
Beneath a quilt of pinks and lilies too--
The prototypes from which her patterns grew--
She rests in peace. There, while she calmly sleeps, God's mystic coverlet above her creeps.

This be my faith: That some day I shall see
Life's complex pattern growing plain to me;
That somewhere I shall clearly understand
The great design worked by the Master's hand;
And that somehow love's thread may reunite
Our broken lives into a fabric bright,
And I celestial arabesques restore
The ties that bind us here on earth no more.
                            

                                              Author: Carrie O'Neal
 

A CRAZY QUILT
They do not make them any more,
For quilts are cheaper at the store
Than woman's labor, though a wife
Men think the cheapest thing in life.
But now and then a quilt is spread
Upon quaint old walnut bed,
A crazy quilt of those days
That I am old enough to praise.

Some woman sewed these points and squares
Into a pattern like life's cares.
Here is a velvet that was strong,
The poplin that she wore so long,
A fragment from her daughter's dress,
Like her, a vanished loveliness;
Old patches of such things as these,
Old garments and old memories.

And what is life? A crazy quilt;
Sorrow and joy, and grace and guilt,
With here and there a square of blue
For some old happiness we knew;
And so the hand of time will take
The fragments of our lives and make,
Out of life's remnants, as they fall,
A thing of beauty, after all.

                                      Author: Douglas Malloch
 

BEAUTY
She follows many a devious path,
Interprets many a mood;
Triumphant walks the city's street,
Companions solitude:

Not only in gilt palaces
WE trace her garment's hem;
Earth's lowliest ones may call to her
And she will come to them,

In cloud or wave, or song of bird,
In flower, prairie, tree;
In any spot, through any task
Done with sincerity, --

A furrow straight across a field,
A rose-tree by the door;
A blossomy quilt upon a bed,
Quaint rugs upon a floor!

                                                       Author: Jean Crosse Hansen
 

BOM Shake Up

Last month I made a block--
This month I won a quilt!
Of course, it's not together yet.
But the top is easily built.
 

I chose the 'safe' colors I usually use,
Thinking these would be best to send
To a bunch of unknown quilters
Whose tastes I don't want to offend.
 

Well! The blocks I won seem to show
Not all are restrained like me!
There are more colors and patterns of fabrics
Than ever I thought to see!
 

I don't see these fabrics when I go to shop,
I guess I've been closing my eyes.
When I show this quilt at Show and Tell
Will my guild get a surprise!

        Author: Jacquie Scuitto

Appreciation

There are quilts that make me wonder.
There are quilts that make me blink.
There are quilts that tug my heartstrings.
There are quilts that make me think.
 

But the quilts that mean the most
And that fill my heart with glee
Aren't the ones I see at quilt shows.
But the rare ones made for me!

                                                                      Author: Jacquie Scuitto

Quality of a Quilt

The ladies at the quilting bee,
quilted in all kinds of weather
and when they made their little stitches,
They were quiltedrealclosetogether.
 

The quilts that are imported,
Will break your heart.
When you see the stitches,
They are this far apart.

                                                          Author: Dallas Reed

Quilter Husband's Lament

I've always learned that life was full of obstacles and woes.
I've learned to live with sickness, death, taxes, heaven knows.
I've taken all these things in stride, the problems and strife,
But one I didn't count on was a Quilter for a wife.
 

Come home from work, the stove is cold, the dirty clothes still there,
The suit I wanted cleaned today, still laying on the chair.
"Where's Mama, son?" I asked my boy, "This house is such a mess.
Why, all the sheets are missing, we've been burglarized I guess."
 

"No, Mama stripped down all the beds and took the sheets away.
She cut them into little strips and pieced two quilts today."
"Why every pair of pants I own is cut in little squares."
"I'm demonstrating appliqué," my lovely wife declares.
 

I show up in the office in my boxer shorts and tie.
My secretary giggles and the clerks give me the eye.
It's freezing cold, I'm shaking and my knees are turning blue.
My boss considered firing me, but his wife's a quilter too.
 

I told him what happened and he said he could believe.
I noticed that the coat he wore had only half a sleeve.
A husband needs a loving wife to help him when he's ill.
To soothe and comfort, mop his brow and help him take his pills.
 

Should influenza strike you, your life's not worth a dime,
Particularly if it hits at Quilt Convention time.
You'll lay there in an empty house in pain and deep despair,
While the workshops and the lectures keep your wife's attention there.
 

You learn to ask no questions when she smiles and drives away,
Rushing to the Fabric Shop for a big sale there today.
She's gone for hours, then drags back home all bleary eyed and down,
Now who'd believe a lie like that? She must be running round.
 

But I'll get by, I always do, some days are fine, some not.
When your wife's a Quilter you tolerate a lot.
I know that when my life is through and I pass away
They'll have to set my funeral so it's not a Quilting Day.

                                                               Author: Cathy Miller

A Christmas Quilter

T'was a few weeks before Christmas and in my head was a plan
To make all of my Christmas gifts by my own hand.
Away to my scrap box in a flash I did fly.
With patterns in my head and a twinkle in my eye.
 

I cut and I sewed as merry as an elf.
Making things for others and not for myself.
A quilted vest for a teen-aged niece.
Quilts for the grandparents with love sewn in each piece.
 

Quilted covers for aunts' tabletops,
Away I go with hardly a stop.
On scissors, on needles, on thimble and thread,
Oh, hurry I must, for Christmas day is ahead.
 

A quilted diaper bag for the baby so new.
I may even quilt Santa a coat before I'm through.
Quilted bedspreads for Mother and Sis.
I still have a few left on my list.
 

Cushions with quilted tops and potholders done.
It's now Christmas Eve and I have a gift for each one.
So I sprang to my Volks wagon and made quite a clatter.
The neighbors ran to the windows to see what was the matter.
 

From one house to the other, I leaped like a deer.
Leaving my presents and hopefully cheer.
With best wishes to each for a Christmas so bright.
A tired, happy quilter drove away in the night.
 

                                         Author: Pat Everson

There once was a quilter named Min,
Whatever she'd see, she'd begin.
A large quilt, a small quilt,
A doll quilt, a wall quilt.
"I'll finish these later," said Min.
 

"Now what shall I start on today?
I guess it will be appliqué.
Some birds in a group,
I'll frame with a hoop.
Today, though, I'll put them away.
 

I think I will make a new vest,
In silk, or cotton would be best --
Trapunto I'll do,
Then Sunbonnet Sue!
But now I will give them a rest.
 

A tote bag I've wanted to sew,
And then I'll try quilt-as-you-go.
A radiant Star
For next year's bazaar --
Just when they'll be done, I don't know.
 

For Christmas I've got projects galore --
A tree skirt, a wreath for the door.
I'll make a soft box,
And red quilted socks,
And what's not completed, I'll store."
 

"Is anything finished?" asked Son.
Her answer could only be, "None."
So, Min made a vow:
She would not allow
More new projects -- well, maybe just one.
 

                                                                     Author: Bee Neeley Kuckelman

My Wife, The Quilter

She learned to quilt on Monday.
Her stitches were very fine.
She forgot to thaw out dinner,
So we went out to dine.
 

She quilted miniatures Tuesday.
She says they are a must.
They really were quite lovely,
But she forgot to dust.
 

On Wednesday, it was a sampler.
She says the stipplin's fun.
What highlights! Oh what shadows!
But the laundry wasn't done.
 

Her charm quilt was on Thursday,
Green patches, blue and red.
I guess she really was engrossed;
She never made the bed.
 

It was wallhangings on Friday,
In colors she adores,
But she never seemed to notice
The crumbs on all the floors.
 

I found a maid on Saturday!
My week is now complete.
My wife can quilt the hours away;
The house will still be neat.
 

Well, it's already Sunday.
I think I'm about to wilt.
I cursed, I raved, I ranted--
The MAID has learned to Quilt!!
 

                                                             Author: unknown