Quilt Poems
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Quilt Poems
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Quilt Poems

Quilt Sayings, Dedications and Poems

submitted by members of Quiltersbee

Click here for Christmas Poems

Click here for Quilt Dedications


  To Stash or not to Stash....is that the question?

by Juanita K Bard   (With apologies to Shakespeare's HAMLET)

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous mis-organization
Or to take arms against a sea of clutter
And by opposing end it? To organize?
To give away? To sew not more?

Nay...To sew I must..perchance a new patchwork
Or try a new paper piece pattern
For who can bear the whips and scorns of
The ever present 1/2 price sale ads
That makes a calamity of our credit cards..

To file or not to file my patterns
To group by pastels and darks
And by organization to say we end
The heartache of rummaging around
For just that right piece of fabric

That our sewing is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd..to organize,
To conceal in boxes...and boxes galore
In plastic containers that overflow on the floor
To organize, perchance to achieve it....ay, there's the rub;

For in that great organization of fabric what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal unorganization
Must give us pause there's the respect
That makes calamity of so organized a sewing room;
For who can bear to whittle down her Stash...

The pangs of that separation of fabric
To grunt and sweat under the strain
Of not seeing forever the beloved Stash...
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd boxes...from who boundary

No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And make us rather think we have
To give to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make swappers of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution

Gives way to the pale thought and enterprises
Of that great moment with this regard
To our current Stash...Organize...give away!!!!
And lose the name of clutter... Soft you now!
Oh, fair quilters... in they orisons
Be all my Stash remember'd.....

ODE TO A QUILTER’S HUSBAND by Cindy Thury Smith 1983

The husband of this quilter is a very special, patient guy—
Who doesn’t complain about how much fabric his wife may buy. 
Through the years he’s picked up a lot of quilting lore—
Because on this subject his wife can get to be quite a bore.
 He’s learned better than to throw away any old odd shaped scrap—
Because it’s likely that’s the one she’ll need to fill her design gap.
 He know if he enters the quilting room his feet will get pins in—
And he’s learned there’s not just red, but brick, rust, scarlet and crimson. 
He knows how she snorts when she sees an ordinary bedspread—
Cuz in HER house there’s only personally designed quilts instead. 
He knows when she meets another quilter there’ll be fast and furious talkin’—
And at a quilt show there’ll be lots of scribbling and gawkin’. 
He thinks of quilt-mania as a kind of creative affliction—
That can only be controlled by regular doses of stitchin’. 
He knows she quilts for enjoyment, not for money,
Cuz she does quilts that are traditional, modern and some just plain funny! 
And though all my cutting, designing, sewing and quilting through the years—
He’s always been interested, supportive, patient, and very, very dear. Thanks, honey.

THE FRANKENSTEIN QUILT by Cindy Thury Smith 1985

I started out with a simple block design—
And thought I’d add just one or two more lines—
To come up with a quilt that’d be all mine. 
Then I started playing with complex borders and sashing—

And through my mind new ideas kept flashing—
Until now my hopes have gone a-dashing!
 I’ve created an impossible pattern, a monster—

Anyone who’d try it would be a fanatical quilter—
Who’d probably end up cussing out the designer! 
Since I created it I’d better give it a try—
As I ripped out stitches I kept asking myself why—

If I ever get it done I’ll take this one with me
when I die! Now it’s finally done and lies displayed on our bed—
Hundreds of hours, yards of fabric, and miles of thread—
One of those, “It’ll never work” ideas that just popped into my head.


by Cindy Thury Smith 1986

 First I lost my thimble and stuck the needle into my thumb—
Then I figured the yardages wrong, so I’m short, how dumb!
 And I can’t understand this piecing diagram ‘cuzmy brain’s gone numb—
Sometimes quilting just doesn’t pay. 

Now the tension’s goofed up on my sewing machine—
The four yards I bought aren’t the right shade of green—
And how am I to get Grandmother’s unfinished quilt top clean? 
Sometimes quilting just doesn’t pay.

 I’ve pressed under bias until my fingers are all burnt—
Can’t quite remember that finishing tip I thought I’d learnt—
Tried to do an edge in scallops, but they weren’t—
Sometimes quilting just doesn’t pay. 

I’ve sewed on this quilt for what seems like a hundred weeks— 
Bringing my quilting skills to a new sewing peak—
And, surprisingly, getting pretty close to the design I seek—
Well, maybe quilting’s not so bad. 

Hey, I’ve finally got it on the quilting frame—
As I bend over and stitch my back will never be the same—
In the corner I’ll label it with the date and my name—
Well, maybe quilting’s not so bad. 

Now it’s proudly displayed in all its pomp and glory—
Conveniently forgotten is how its construction was slightly hoary—
Currently I’m telling the “masterpiece of needleart” story—
Yeah, I guess quilting’s not so bad.


by Cindy Thury Smith 

Happy birthday to you, 
Happy birthday to you, 
Have you finished that quilt yet? 
Happy birthday to you! 

How old is your stash? 
How old is your stash? 
Did you pay plastic or cash?
 How old is your stash? 

Did you see the new Hoffman? 
Did you see the new Hoffman? 
Did the price make you cough, man! 
Did you see the new Hoffman? 

Have you bought the new book? 
Have you bought the new book? 
So many UFOs, shouldn’t even look! 
Have you bought the new book? 

Will you make the show deadline? 
Will you make the show deadline? 
One hour left, plenty of time!
 I can make the show deadline!


by CindyThury Smith 1999

For our Great-Great Grandmothers,
 in quilting times past— 
A frugal quilter had to scrimp, make every scrap last—
 Today wasting fabric is not such a crime— 
Today what’s scarce is a quilter’s TIME. 
Patterns used to travel with pioneers going west—
Now we swap and share instantly on the Internet—
Once templates were traced, fabric carefully scissored—
Now we slice multiple layers, we’re all Olfa wizards. 
At one time a two fabric quilt was a sign of status—

Now Watercolor quilts have hundreds of prints comin’ at us—

Quilters used to gather at small local quilting bees—

Now we congregate at conferences, national teachers to see. Like our Great-Great Grandmothers our lives are busy, we’re stressed—

But with the beauty of our quilts, we feel we are blessed—

As with Great-Great Grandmother, our quilting serves many goals—

To give warmth, grace our homes, and feed our souls. The following 10 rules for quilt teachers were the result of various discussions on the Quilt Teachers list. We were discussing proper attitude.


by Cindy Thury Smith 1999

1. Thou shalt not ridicule a student’s choice of fabrics nor their colors; a student’s taste should be reflected in their work.

2. Thou shalt not require excessive expenditures for a class; thou dost not know a student’s financial situation.

3. Thou shalt provide students with clearly written and illustrated handouts. Thou shalt be able to explain a construction step with more than one method (written, verbal, visual).

4. Thou shalt provide value for their money; at least one other variation of the quilt in addition to the standard design.

5. Thou shalt be on time, start on time and provide time for questions.

6. Thou shalt circulate amongst the students, checking progress, even if thy feet dost hurt.

7. Thou shalt find something positive to say about each student’s work. Thou shalt not have a “My way or the highway” frame of mind; creativity comes in many forms.

8. When a student makes a good suggestion, thou will announce it to the class and give credit where due.

9. Thou shalt allow some time after class to help anyone who sews at a more leisurely pace.

10. Thou shalt show numerous samples; and if thou dost not have numerous samples done, make suggestions for other applications of the pattern.



            Gullibility Virus Spreading over the Internet!

WASHINGTON, D.C.--The Institute for the Investigation of Irregular Internet Phenomena announced today that many Internet users are becoming infected by a new virus that causes them to believe without question every groundless story, legend, and dire warning that shows up in their inbox or on their browser.  The Gullibility Virus, as it is called, apparently makes people believe and forward copies of silly hoaxes relating to cookie recipes, email viruses, taxes on modems, and get-rich-quick schemes.   "These are not just readers of tabloids or people who buy lottery tickets based on fortune cookie numbers", a spokesman said.  "Most are otherwise normal people, who would laugh at the same stories if told to them by a stranger on a street corner".  However, once these same people become infected with the Gullibility Virus, they believe anything they read on the Internet.

"My immunity to tall tales and bizarre claims is all gone", reported one weeping victim.  "I believe every warning message and sick child story my friends forward to me, even though most of the messages are anonymous."  Another victim, now in remission, added, "When I first heard about Good Times, I just accepted it without question. After all, there were dozens of other recipients on the mail header, so I thought the virus must be true".  It was a long time, the victim said, before she could stand up at a Hoaxes Anonymous meeting and state, "My name is Jane, and I've been hoaxed".  Now, however, she is spreading the word. "Challenge and check whatever you read," she says.

Internet users are urged to examine themselves for symptoms of the virus, which include the following:

1. The willingness to believe improbable stories without thinking.

2. The urge to forward multiple copies of such stories to others.

3. A lack of desire to take three minutes to check to see if a story is true.

T. C. is an example of someone recently infected. He told one reporter, "I read on the Net that the major ingredient in almost all shampoos makes your hair fall out, so I've stopped using shampoo".  When told about the Gullibility Virus, T. C. said he would stop reading email, so that he would not become infected.

Anyone with symptoms like these is urged to seek help immediately. Experts recommend that at the first feelings of gullibility, Internet users rush to their favorite search engine and look up the item tempting them to thoughtless credence.  Most hoaxes, legends, and tall tales have been widely discussed and exposed by the Internet community.

As a public service, Internet users can help stamp out the Gullibility Virus by sending copies of this following message to anyone who forwards them a hoax.


This message is so important, we're sending it anonymously! Forward it to all your friends right away!  Don't think about it!  This is not a chain letter!  This story is true! Don't check it out!  This story is so timely, there is no date on it!  This story is so important, we're using lots of exclamation points!  Lots!!  For every message you forward to some unsuspecting person, the Home for the Hopelessly Gullible will donate ten cents to itself.  (If you wonder how the Home will know you are forwarding these messages all over creation, you're obviously thinking too much.)


Where can I store more fabric? 
My sewing room shelves are crammed! 
There's no more space beneath my bed 
And the guest room closet is jammed. 
I have a friend with an attic 
Who would let me store some there,
But such separation from my treasures 
Would be more than I could bear. 
Meanwhile there are three bags full 
From the big sale I went to today 
And I can't think where to put them -- 
Or what my dear husband will say!

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse


Many are the quilts I have begun, 
Far fewer those I've finished. 
The UFO collection just keeps growing -- 
It needs to be diminished! 
I could send them to be quilted by machine 
But that would take money I lack. 
I could let someone else quilt them for me, 
But would I really get them back?
Not starting quilts would, of course, 
Be a sure UFO preventive, 
But not having the will power that requires, 
I must rely on some deadline incentive.

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse


Many things are discussed on our list, 
And quilting is only one. 
With friends we've made we want to talk 
About everything under the sun. 
So it's not just our quilts we write about 
But the rest of our world as well -- 
Our families, big things that happen, 
Little things that are fun to tell. 
Here's a place to let off a little steam 
About things that have not gone right, 
To celebrate our triumphs, 
To sympathize with another's plight. 
Oh sure -- the quilt topics are important -- 
Information and explanations abound, 
But it's the feeling of belonging and friendship 
That keeps us all coming round.


We come from many backgrounds 
With different points of view, 
All important to their holders 
Who stick to them like glue. 
But leave a little leeway 
For those who don't agree
 With your dearly held opinions -- 
Starting in with me!

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse



"The closing confines of my chair -- 
More tush here and more tush there.
So I rise and move around; 
Jumping jacks and bouncy-bounce. 
Tushy wiggle seems to slow. 
Soon that fanny starts to go.
But I find to my chagrin 
Fewer hours to quilt in.
Back to quilting I must go. 
Fanny's just one big yo-yo.
1999 Andi M. Reynolds



There are so many quilt patterns to choose from, 
Some are easy, but many are not: 
Bias edges, sharp points and set-in seams 
Can put you squarely on the spot! 
You can avoid these problems, of course, 
With blocks made of just strips and squares, 
And very pretty they can be too, 
Drawing admiring stares. 
But do you want to make Log Cabins forever? 
Are Nine Patches becoming ho-hum? 
Time to branch out to the more complicated -- 
With practice expertise will come!

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse

Is your fabric addiction a serious case?
Can you pass a quilt shop without stopping?
For the fabrics you buy, do you have enough 
Is your life devoted to shopping?
If quilting is a new passion
Exposure to quilt shops and the fabrics therein
Is a thing the susceptible should ration.
Be sensible, strong and limit your visits
To these dens of textilean seduction.
Say 'No' now and then just to show that you can.
Claim you are practising safe stash reduction.
It may well not help -- once you have been hooked
On the thrill of the fabric chase,
Nothing can quite compare to the feeling you get
When your acquisitions are home and in place.

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse


The Big Foot works well for both free motion and for stitching with the feed dogs engaged. You just have to move the lever that goes over the bar on the presser foot holder off Free motion for free motion. I have a generic walking foot that did not work well with my old machine (haven't tried it with the new one...)  and inspired:

This foot was made for walking.
But not on my machine!
It turns out the weirdest quilting
That I have ever seen!
It sews along quilte nicely,
I stop holding my breath,
Then it does a little dance step
And scares me half tio death!
I see a section of stitches
Too small for ripping out,
Then a leap and then a skip --
What is this all about?
A seam on top? The batting?
Am I doing something wrong?
I didn't dream that machine quilting
Would ever take this long.
The answer's out there somewhere,
I'll seek till I understand,
But until I get it sorted out
I just must quilt by hand!

Jacquie Scuitto. aka The Muse

Ode to My Wife the Quilter

She learned to quilt on Monday.
Her stitches all were very fine.
She forgot to thaw out dinner.
so we went out to dine.
She quilted miniatures on Tuesday.
she says they are a must.
They really were quite lovely.
But she forgot to dust.
On Wednesdays it was a sampler.
She says stipling's fun.
What highlights! What Shadows!
But the laundry wasn't done.
Her patches were on Thursday -
Green, yellow, blue and red.
I guess she was really engrossed;
She never made the bed.  It was wall hangings on Friday,
In colors she adores.I  t never bothered her at all,
The crumbs on 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  - if YOU know, please tell us so we can properly attribute this poem



Every evening
As I'm laying here in bed
This tiny little prayer
Keeps running through my head

God bless my mom and dad
And bless my little pup
And look out for my brother
When things aren't looking up

And God, there's one more thing
I wish that you could do
Hope you don't mind me asking
But please bless my computer too?

Now I know that's not normal
To bless a mother board
But just listen a second
While I explain to you 'My Lord'

You see, that little metal box
Holds more to me than odds & ends
Inside those small compartments
Rest a hundred of my 'BEST FRIENDS'

Some it's true I've never seen
And most I've never met
We've never exchanged hugs
Or shared a meal as yet....

I know for sure they like me
By the kindness that they give
And this little scrap of metal
Is how I travel to where they live

By faith is how I know them
Much the same as you
I share in what life brings them
From that our friendship grew

"PLEASE" Take an extra minute
From your duties up above
To bless this scrap of metal
That's filled with so much love!

  A computer was something on TV
  From a science fiction show of note
  A window was something you hated to clean
  And ram was the cousin of a goat
  Meg was the name of my girlfriend
  And gig was a job for the nights
  Now they all mean different things
  And that really mega bytes
  An application was for employment
  A program was a TV show
  A cursor used profanity
  A keyboard was a piano
  Memory was something that you lost with age.
  A CD was a bank account,
  And if you had a 3-in. floppy
  You hoped nobody found out.
  Compress was something you did to the garbage,
  Not something you did to a file,
  And if you unzipped anything in public
  You'd be in jail for awhile.
  Log on was adding wood to the fire.
  Hard drive was a long trip on the road.
  A mouse pad was where a mouse lived,
  And a backup happened to your commode.
  Cut you did with a pocket knife.
  Paste you did with glue.
  A web was a spider's home,
  And a virus was the flu.
  I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper,
  And the memory in my head.
  I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash,
  But when it happens they wish they were dead.

Author Unknown  - if YOU know, please tell us so we can properly attribute this poem