Patchwork Square
For Poppy's January Prompt
The view from an oval window mounted on the fuselage of an airplane flying through a blue sky peppered with salt-colored clouds
Above little squares framed with trees and white picket fences, with city streets and buildings stretching into the air, all remind the eyes of
A patchwork quilt spread across hills and valleys, across mountains and streams, telling in its contours the stories of the land below.
Age is said, to only be a number, but if you gave each year passing a meaning, they would spread out across a life, like an airplane's quilt.
A landscape of diaries, stitched from days, cobbled from nights, where eyes met the first time, where moments felt like forever, before they were gone.
Where pieces of fabric would keep reminders of pasts swirling, alive with regret and hope, with broken places and palaces.
Happy colors, filled with smiles and laughs, would be reflections of, better times when naive hearts thought the sun would always shine.
Patterns would tell stories of love, over and over, wrapping each word, warm against naked skin, before stripping them away, again.
Images from ghosts would sew themselves, into tattered places, torn inside hurting souls, to close invisible wounds with hidden scars.
Hellos and goodbyes would weave in and out of squares, leaving some whole, and some with deep holes dug into their centers.
Frayed edges would show, where the weight was too much for imperfect hands, where burdens trailed on the ground, behind weary feet.
Tears in the cloth, where everything happening, ripped like bullet holes from a firing gun, would be cautionary tales, of how wrong things can be.
Hand-sewn stitching would mark the quilt's canvas, the way dandelions mark the bleakness of the soil below, with bright yellow blooms.
Cotton filling in between whole cloth and backing would not be enough to warm the cold, lonely thoughts twirling around, in the dark at 2 am.
Borders would keep the light in a child's eyes, the lines marking a face, inside a single shape, the way a Babushka doll nestles smaller ones.
Last hours would pass, the way ships pass in the night, and the quilt would fall to the ground, to be a single patchwork square below an airplane above.
For Poppy's Prompt thingo....
About the Creator
The Invisible Writer
"Poetry is what happens when nothing else can"
Charles Bukowski
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By Mark Gagnon4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (17)
I love the view from an airplane, best patchwork ever. This is gorgeously written, Vocal is getting choked with greatness, where will it spill over to. Because this is great.
It is good to hear such relations of life and its many events. I have seen this view so many times and still love just looking at it.
This was just wonderful. The sewing metaphor is so apt. All the different nuances of life and how they can be patched together.
This is so stunning! I love this take on the prompt!
Outstanding and creative work!!!
Very nice and imaginative!
I love the imagery and how you twisted it into such a significant metaphor. Very well done.
Love how you wrote in the patchwork! Well done!!
I love the creativity in this! 💜
Wonderful entry, very creative. Picture well chosen, too. I saw it and I was like "OH! I know which way this will go!" And it was satisfying to be right, an d yet still have some creative bendy bits in there to make me go "oooOO" 😁
That was so very creative. I love the idea of the ground being a patchwork quilt and our lives also. Excellent entry.
Omg,this is marvelous. Firstly, the actual idea of the view from an airplane being patchwork is just so creative and clever. But secondly, you carried out that idea into writing so masterfully and beautifully. "Age is said, to only be a number, but if you gave each year passing a meaning, they would spread out across a life, like an airplane's quilt. A landscape of diaries, stitched from days, cobbled from nights, where eyes met the first time, where moments felt like forever, before they were gone." Beautiful beautiful beautiful!!! Every line of this, the sentiment behind it and the way you wove the words together is soooo talented. Amazing poem!!
Viewing the patchwork of the farmland below the first time I flew was the one thing that helped keep my mind off the fact that on real planes the wings actually do move up & down! Like stitches through the fabric of time, these are The Patchwork Quilts of Our Lives, only on Peacock this fall! (I can just imagine it, lol.)
"Images from ghosts would sew themselves, into tattered places, torn inside hurting souls, to close invisible wounds with hidden scars." This was my favourite part and this whole thing blew my mind! Just whoaaaa! Also, you used all 5 words from the prompt! So well done!
This is amazingly beautiful! I love its start: "A patchwork quilt spread across hills and valleys, across mountains and streams, telling in its contours the stories of the land below." ... & then how you zero in to more detail of life's stories!
Beautifully done -It really gives a sense of the patchwork, the flitting between the squares, stunning x
I love the zooming in, and out again.