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Journey To The Centre Of The Loom (Ode) by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. Born of oil, wrought in flame,
A beast inside a wooden frame.
Braced with steel, wrapped in mesh,
An edifice of woven flesh.
And in its looming shadow strode
The men who marched the woollen road.
Vats of dye, reels of thread,
Cascading from its silhouette.
Smoking pyres, a beating drum,
Black against the blood-red sun.
And through its gaping trumpets strode
The men who marched the woollen road.
Swollen balls, a severed hand,
Dolloped from its weaving gland.
Droppings here, droppings there,
Basking in the brownly air.
And through this wicker squalor strode
The men who marched the woollen road.
Branding irons, a bitter cry,
An extra lash for every lie.
Made to harvest, made to reap,
Made to sew, then made to weep.
And trapped inside this silken womb,
The dead return to tend the Loom.
Up the ladder:
A Schizophrenic
Down the ladder:
Three Bears
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.3333335
Posted: November 26, 2006 12:53 PM PST; Last modified: November 26, 2006 12:53 PM PSTWeighted score: 5.3585887 Overall Rank: 3346 Comments:
[9]
Dovina @ 12.72.37.46
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26-Nov-06/6:04 PM
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Reply
Mystically sullen. Kudos for complicity.
I eagerly await 'Around the Loom in Eighty Days'
Twenty Thousand Looms Under the Sea
What the loom needs now is love, sweet love.
Are you trying to hit on Darkie now? My god woman, have you no DECENCY?? ;P
"The Loom the Witch and the Wardrobe" wasn't as spiritually fulfiling as the David Attenborough documentary "Planet Loom".
Bram Stoker's Draculoom is another classic.
As someone who is new to this site it is good to see a poem that is in a different style from what appears to be the favoured Free style.
Many years ago i visited a working loom, albeit a preserved one but a very interesting experience. The clouds of cotton dust that choked you as you walked around, the noise of the machine the complex simplicity of the machine and the flying wheels cogs and loom that ended in this beautiful creation of silk at the far end, all of which you have captured in this ode, which is a creative piece on a part of most countries history, but certainly from my own country england the social history involved with these machines created a new way of thinking and reaction that led to many social changes that are still relevant today. Very enjoyable piece that i will read again and again.
It's interesting that Looms had a profound social impact on your country. In much of my work I try to capture the relevance of Looms to the modern world, and in a way, this poeme isn't so much about an actual Loom, as it is about the Loom that's inside all of us. It's the Loom of our hopes, our fears, our desires. At times, it is a terrible, wretched Loom. But it is not without passages of textile beauty. And ultimately, the impression is that of the dignity of the human spirit when pitted against impossible odds. I thank you for your -8-.
The Loom is second rate rubbish when compared to the spinning jenny.
Yes, yes you are right. But the Spinning Jenny pales in comparison to a Power Loom fitted with a Horrocks Variable Speed Batton. Checkmate, I believe.
That of course puts me in luddite purgatory, however, the use of the "re-vamped" spinning mule gambit outflanks the power loom in any of its formats and that, I believe, places me one station closer to Mornington Crescent.
Ugh, a stop away from Camden; just about the most deplorable place in Hades.
Ranger, as lovely a person as you are it appears to me that you do like blundering around like a dunce in a sack besmirching gentleman's conversations about various weaving and warping machines and the Radio 4 triumph I'm sorry I haven't a clue. Anyone with any sense knows that Camden is an offside move owing to the "Edgeware Branch" convention of 1957.
You are right, of course. Intellect and niceness rarely sit well together; a fact belied by my lopsided, foppish grin. I shall keep my mumblings contained within my sack next time.
By the way, on Salisbury station the other day I saw a gentleman with a face like a slightly overweight triangle and brogues which had been buffed to the point of actually generating their own light (not by his own hands, they were spotless). He was waiting for the London train with the relaxed demeanour of one who knows that it doesn't matter when he arrives at the Gentleman's Club, because there will always be a fresh plate of sandwiches and a steaming Spotted Dick in the kitchens. Was he your dad?
Wiltshire, splendid county, the best by gad! Lots of top rectory's inhabited by old colonels in maroon cords who wander around marshalling their wifes lap dogs and barking with a face like a Christmas ham fully loving the fact they are a walking anachronism. I have property interests in Wiltshire, or at least my in-laws own a substantial plot. However chances of my Father leaving the shires to "go-to-town" are less than nil during the season. He takes a house in London during the Summer like all other excellent people belonging to society. I refer of course to the real me not the me that is portrayed as Stephen Robins. His parents are tremendously poor and live in a prefabricated box in Hampshire. The real me has an excellent face without any hint of a triangle â my jawline is simply awesome, I also own more land that a golly prince in Lesotho.
Never a truer word spoken. Wiltshire is beautiful, except - or so I hear - for Warminster and Trowbridge. And it's not just Stonehenge which has the attraction. Some years ago my best friend's family decided to walk the Ridgeway; I joined them for the last six miles (ending just outside East Kennet) and it was wonderful. I am a Hampshire lad though - anyone living in such accommodation must live either on one of the military bases or in Popley.
No in LyMINGton, which is a jolly ice place which makes the fact they live in a shed even more remarkable. Swindon doesn't have much to recommend it other than the M4 as a means of escape.
Please remember this is poemeranker, therefore the correct spelling is 'Loomington'.
"A dobby loom is an alternative to a treadle loom. Each of them is a floor loom in which every warp thread on the loom is attached to a single shaft using a device called a heddle. A shaft is sometimes known as a harness, but this terminology is becoming obsolete among active weavers."
3rd stanza is somewhat weak but overall this is very good..... "return to tend the gloom"
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