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The heavy quilt lay upon her lap. Her wrinkled hands smoothed it out, carefully. She smiled a toothless smile, remembering the times she had had. She remembered her children, long grown, crawling about her as she scolded them for disrupting her stitching. She grinned and chuckled as she recalled her husbands face the day he spilt his coffee on the newly finished blanket, and how mad she had been. She smiled because this quilt, and those memories, were all she had left. And they were all she really needed. She was content.
By Chickadee URL on 07.18.2014
The baron wore a long, quilted blue coat, so padded that he looked three times bigger from a distance. And, given his height, that meant instead of appearing to be a beanpole, he looked more like block of marble or brick, square and massive, the truth hidden beneath his heavy, bulky clothing. The only thing that stood out more was his nose, which length seemed to compensate for something lower.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 07.18.2014
clouds grayed out. Foam will explode and dry out. Fatness arrives at its place today no cucumber to buy. Sweets sold out cause quilted text is working hard. I don’t know!
By Adrian on 07.18.2014
The quilted toilet paper was the expemnsive kind with the bears shitting in thw woods. They were just one big happt shitting bear family. The kind at her place was tin and rough and had the name of a supermarket or a yellow label on it. It was stupid that premium toilet paper made her feek inferior and self conscious, like she could never have them to her place, because they would at some point need a bathroom and would see the damaged plastic sink and the rust stained tub and the damned cheap toilet paper that tre or your fingers.
By Tonia URL on 07.18.2014
quilted like a blanket or a life together whether you are alone or with many your experiences are quilted together in a memory of time left for you to be comforted by and warmed underneath. Even those which itch at first you will eventually find comfort in the connectivity of it all.
By J on 07.18.2014
I have a quilted blanket on my bed. I don’t use it in the summertime of course, but it feels awfully good in the winter. I wonder if this will shut off at the end of 60 seconds. I don’t think so because I have been going a lot longer than that. I guess I’ll stop and see what happens.
By J. McTaggart URL on 07.18.2014
I’m lying on the bed,
among quilted pillow
and warm sheets,
thinking about you
and what could have been:
if only I was not so keen
on my emotions,
If only you were not
so damn stubborn.
We could have everything
and anything at the same
I’m lying here, on these
empty mattress, whispering
softly inside my own dreams.
I haven’t forgotten you
and while the moon rises
shining pale over the leaves,
here I rest in a pensive mood,
struggling in this summer solitude.
By gargouillis URL on 07.18.2014
thousands of feet
into the unknown
never to go
By katiekieran URL on 07.18.2014
as he quilted his jersey cuff around his wrist the thought of walking home seemed overwhelming. not only did he not remember how he drifted to this spot he knew it wasn’t safe and no where looked familiar. it was obvious that no one knew where he was and the thought of even moving was an effort, but his body wasn’t going to stay balanced on the edge of the sill for long, the wind was quite strong up her on the 17th floor and the idea of flying or drifting down had now coldly abandoned her brave silly self, it was time to leave. the next step was backwards, shuffling and scuffing on the concrete backwards bumping into the crevice beside the window, he could lean back now through to the other side.
By ali marti URL on 07.18.2014
My life was quilted to his life, but I thought I could live without him. I thought I could survive… . I abandoned him, I died… because our lives were quilted to each other… .
By Elena URL on 07.18.2014
I quilted together a string of memories, some that I created from wisps or soulful glances… others that you gave me with an open heart. But they’re all I live off now. Now that you’ve left…
By Alice Walker URL on 07.18.2014
I can’t use QUILTED
For I hate the letter Q
Simply, it won’t do.
Instead could I get
Another letter perhaps
In Front of the U?
– ! Haiku-Man !
By !Haiku-Man! on 07.18.2014
Patchwork fields. Different hues – shades of yellow and green, stitched together with grey stone walls.
By Therese on 07.18.2014
there was a dozen of them,
flourishing the windows,
quilted–with an enamouroming blossom of red, blue–plus orange,
againast the windows they frazzled my sightings,
I sought to see through the colorful panes, and curtains,
down onto the road, where my divergent path awaited me,
was the dirt road with crumbling rocks without a lane,
I knew my destination was there,
awating me, quilting my mind to a compression of distrust!
By Milad URL on 07.18.2014
something that made by quilting. a technique of sew by sewing some little fabrics into one–a lot of blankets is quilted.
By Khairina F Hidayati URL on 07.18.2014
she stared down at the quilted blanket she was covered in. god. her head hurt insanely bad – like there was someone starting to bash at her skull from the inside and breaking out. she couldn’t remember what she’d been doing the night before. certainly she should’ve been able to figre out something – she knew she could remember it. it would just hurt.
By Nova Lee Adamson URL on 07.18.2014
My grandmother was a seamstress and this lady at church didn’t want me to be in the quilting group. She had told me, “It’s not like sewing clothes.” I didn’t feel really anything bad about it. I just didn’t think I had to audition to do something at church.
By Sarah Michelle URL on 07.18.2014
my mother came home from work and told me she stopped by a small shop. she had found a quilted blanket. she had told me her mother gave her one just like it as a child. it made me a tad bit sad considering she has past a few years back. i took it and gave her a hug. ill treasure it forever.
By serena this was terrible URL on 07.18.2014
Ohara was led into Makita’s office, and sat down on the sofa; a quilted one he had brought from home, not the usual furnishing one would see in a Tokyo police detective’s office. “What’s with all the extra hands!” he asked. Makita clicked his teeth; “We’ve got some bigshot coming, so I would really appreciate it if you don’t ask me a favour right now!”
By tonykeyesjapan URL on 07.18.2014
Padded squares of antiquity
grid of color and remnants
scraps no longer
product of economy
protection against what is on my mind
days gone by
ways of old
circle of ladies
social work of labor
By Protean on 07.18.2014
My aunt makes quilts. So many that you could shroud her entire home in quilts. Her son once told her if she didnt stop making quilts for him, he would scream and never accept any more. I wonder why she makes so many quilts, perhaps she is bored or not content with life. Maybe she just likes it.
Despite her pastime of putting scraps of fabric together to create a beautiful tapestry, she sure has a knack for tearing our family apart with her sarcasm and bitting words.
By Kjersten on 07.18.2014
My aunt spends most of her time quilting, patching together scraps of fabric to create a beautiful tapestry. Yet she spends her other free time ripping the seams of our family apart with her biting words and her lies.
By KSwivel URL on 07.18.2014
The soft blanket lay sprawled across my bed, untouched. My friend had dared to touch it the other day only to get yelled at as a response. A precious heirloom was exactly what it was. Sure the quilt was raggedy and barely sewn together but she had made it. The one who was gone now. A blanket quilted with love.
By Justice URL on 07.18.2014
I sat with my grandma on her old musty house. She stayed quiet as she pulled the needle rythimacally through each square to make a quilt. adding on and on until the end. I smiled at the constant rhythm that almost matched my heart beat
By Leahbayah URL on 07.18.2014
stitch each pattern together like you did to my heart.
we’ll be under that quilt to night looking at the stars.
Having time is all it would take. I could have a quilted version of my dreams wrapped in words, punctuation and pithy with meaning that I could plump up, lift from the corners and shake at the world. Where are the minutes, the seconds, the hours I would need?
By Meredyth URL on 07.18.2014
I quilted a baby quilt in yellows, pinks, blues and white. Stitches that ran together in little hearts turned this way and that. putting my heart into it for the one who taught me what a heart is for. my precious baby, my firstborn, my boy.
By Karen on 07.18.2014
I have this blanket; it’s awful. I picked it up at a thrift store when I was poorer than I am now, but I suppose I was happier then. I must have been, because then, then I thought it was exquisite. This red and gold quilted thing with a cotton lining, cotton that must have been expensive when it was purchased, before it landed in my bedroom.
By Angela Denk on 07.18.2014
It was 2010 and the styles had change so much yet Samantha still wore her hand made quilted jacket. The kids in school laughed, because that style had gone out in the 70’s. Sam did not let it bother her, she felt close to her grandmother when she wore the jacket.
By Bethany Herrington URL on 07.18.2014
My grandmother always gave us to them hand made. Birthdays, christmas. It was always the same. She’d spend all year working on them for these special events and whilst we wouldn’t appreciate them at the time, they were the greatest comforts. In hard times like this there was little else we could cling onto.
By Annique on 07.18.2014
Joe looked down upon his work. He saw a baby, wrapped in his mothers quilted scarf. He smiled down at his son and thanked god for the gift he sent upon him. Joe knew his life couldn’t get better than having his son in his mothers quilted scarf.
By Skye on 07.18.2014
The blanket covering her, thick and quilted, didn’t resemble anything she’d ever seen, not in person, at least. Her brother and she had never had much occasion to be wrapped up in thick wool, warm from head to foot, with bellies full and bodies clean; the price of being an orphan in the wealthiest city in the empire.
By S.C. Lovelace URL on 07.18.2014
(( Same word? Oh, okay. ))
Eren snuggled into Levi’s jacket while he was scrolling through Tumblr. He hated that his lover had to be gone, but he was glad that he left his jacket so he had a piece of him to keep with him while he was away.
By Duffy URL on 07.18.2014
the world was very much like a quilt – all cut up into individual pieces, like forest or desert or tundra, but beyond that, into similar biomes of emotion, such as anger or happiness or sadness, or, worst, heartbreak. Some of the patterns used in that quilt were very much ugly, she thought.
By a terrible poet URL on 07.18.2014
Quilted blankets were a common thing in my house. It was always tradition for the family to meet up and make one together. Anyone who could come, did. Even though we didn’t always enjoy it, everyone was supposed to participate. Boys, girls, gender didn’t matter. It was some sort of family bonding exercise, I suppose. Once a year we’d just all get together to start on it. People brought all kinds of food and drinks, but it usually only lasted a day. It was our own kind of family reunion, ensuring that we’d see each other at least once a year.
By Mickey on 07.18.2014
she pulled the sheets over her face, he laughed at her antics..
“you’re a quilt!” he chuckled, she arose throwing it over his face..
“Now you’re a quilt, you’ve been quilted!”
By ellena on 07.18.2014
I have no clue what this is
By Lauryn on 07.18.2014
I’m on a quilted dream right now. No idea what is coming but I am ready and willing to tie it all together into one big patchwork life. I mean, it already is i guess, it’s just starting to really take shape and even though I don’t know certain aspects of it, ones I thought were some of the most important before it started coming together, I am liking what I can envision and have full faith that it will make a fine image in the end. Also, there will be skipped stitches and fires and too much fluff in spots and I’m running out of quilt metaphors, having never actually quilted in my life, but you get the idea. It’ll get shit on, but I’m thinking it’ll still be quite beautiful. I need for it to be beautiful, above all other adjectives, and I will make it so.
By Laurel on 07.19.2014
We are quilted together, tiny squares in the blanket that warms our hearts. The shirt I bought at the first concert we went to together. The blanket from when I lost my virginity in the woods at age 16. A piece of the dress she refused to take off when she was three years old.
By Violet Glass URL on 07.19.2014
There is a quilted life in front of me.
There is a quilted life behind.
Just the now ist now. A patch that’s gonna fit perfectly between the before and after.
By LotteZwo URL on 07.19.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.