Two Roads Diverged - Kelly

Well, it is finally done. 

I did two sessions of painted shibori to make the woods. The cut out the two roads diverging.  The "leaves" and "branches" were made with a brayer wrapped with a rubber band.  I did some additional painting to creat the undergrowth by the road.  The black marks on the aspen trees were done with a Pigma pen.

"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost is my favorite poem and my life story all rolled into one.  It is short so I want to share it after the photo.

Two Roads Diverged - Kelly Hendrickson

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Survivors

My apologies for the bleak subject this time. 

I was looking around the internet for copyright-free poems when I stumbled across this one. It drew such compelling images in my head that I just had to try and get something down.

The words are by Siegfried Sassoon:

Survivors

No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain

Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.

Of course they're 'longing to go out again,' —

These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk.

They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed

Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,—

Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud

Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride...

Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;

Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

Craiglockhart.

October, 1917.

The words drew such a strong reaction from me since I had, some days earlier been listening to a radio broadcast detailing the mental health of today's soldiers. Some things just do not change. 

The words and image are printed onto silk fabric, the background uses the chance-dyed dye catchers I have collected over the years. Lastly, the whole is overlaid with some sheer fabric, and hand stitched.

Poem ..... or no poem

I have to confess that I have not found a poem which I can use for a quilt. Actually I have not even found a poet :-(.  To be honest I can not even recall when I read a poem. I read a lot, but no poetry. So unless you can give me a good clue, I will not be able to show a quilt by the end of the coming week.