Search
  • Neuro Logical

Weaving - Aida Bode

My mother spoke loom!

Yes, she did.

She moved her feet-

the loom would

crack,

and shift

 

making a new line,

a new beginning,

a new design.

 

Colors and patterns

would spill out of her hands

like rainbow that spills out of clouds

but this one, you could touch

take it from one room to another,

even wash it

and the colors would still be bright

the pattern would still be there.

 

She spoke loom,

sweat and sleeplessness,

she spoke many languages

till the late hours of night

and I remember regretting

that she didn’t speak

lullabies.



Bio:

Aida Bode is a poet and writer, whose works have been published in a variety of online and print magazines including, Dime Show Review, Prelude, 34th Parallel, Allegro, Transcendent Zero Press, West Texas Literary Review, Three Line Poetry, Boston Poetry Magazine, The Raven's Perch, Vayavya, and more.


She’s the author of the well-received novel David and Bathsheba, two poetry volumes, Rated and True Cheese, and a quotes collection, A Commuter’s Eye View. Her writing is characterized by a lyrical philosophy that explores both, the simple and complicated nature of human condition. Aida holds a MA in English and Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. 

In 2017 Aida was nominated by West Texas Literary Review as a Pushcart nominee. 

105 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All

Hungry Tiger - James Hanna

My wife, Mary, and I are celebrating our thirtieth anniversary. We sit at our dining room table and eat by candlelight. We dine on fries and baby back ribs, which I fetched from an Outback Steakhouse.

Zopilote above the Hotel - Tim MacGabhann

For Chris Kitson Long airborne when I spotted her, a little cinder-nib drawing zeroes neater than the grooves in vinyl. Listen, wait, obey, I’ve read it said. Don’t lose that crucial element of drift

Toons - Fabrice Poussin

Another one has ended, it is gone; but Disney lives, for sure, in all his fantasy, like mom did staring at the screen with little boy, and he never asked. Decades beyond the time of the little guy, be