Best Crochet Poems

a soul orbits 
looking into space
searching beyond
staring at 
an orange full
cold  moon
rising peacefully
into the sea of tranquility
floating air labored
softly gasping for breath
exploding stars
lights up
the...

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A grove of magnolias perfumes the air
as they sit absorbed in one another's gaze,
she with her crochet and he with his collectibles
uneasy in their pleasure...

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An exuberant falcon she is, isn’t she? 
Being the aviator of my flight of thoughts.  
Cares less she to heed, whenever in adoration, I...

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HOW I LOVE CROCHETING....HOW IT RELAX ME SO....
EVERY TIME I USE MY CROCHET HOOK....
I'M SOMEWHERE ELSE...FAR AWAY I LOOK...
WHETHER I'M DOWN IN WONDERLAND....
WHETHER I'M IN...

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"Heather"

such a tumultuous quiet discourse
crochet hooked and thinking on wheels,
the wrong turns, sometimes thoughts move
to the recalcitrant one, another tumultuous heart,
mixed feelings like heavy storm...

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My mother didn’t cook too well
Although she fed us fine.
Her house was not immaculate,
Much messier than mine.

She didn’t knit, crochet or quilt
But she was great...

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After much reflection and introspection I am making an alphabetical list of the things that make me, me. I'm sure there are more that I...

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THINGS WITH STRINGS

Spider's web, strings of stars,
a weaver's loom, and old guitars.
Balls of yarn, and DNA,
string bikini, and crochet.

Cats cradle, spools of thread,
Tails on kites,...

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She takes her wand a sugar cane long
And waves it in the air singing a song
She likes to make her heroic cape
From collard green leaves...

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delicate lace linked by crochet
labyrinthine stitches a doily a day

counted by repetitious candlelight
motherly hands of preponderant foresight

twisting and surrender of silent threads
tucking each one into...

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Those early days of passion when we went at it like rabbits
 now long since have been replaced by crochet, crosswords and such habits.
A sudden...

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Well is it a wonder
That I like to 
Crochet
And purl
After all I am a writer
and have always enjoyed a good yarn

The rhyming, the rhythm
The soft...

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A grove of magnolias perfumed the air
as they sat absorbed in one another's gaze,
she with her crochet and he with his collectibles
uneasy in their pleasure...

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The candles of the forest brightly lit
to bid adieu the solstice harvest moon
that races through the branches where it fits
much like the sun which flickers...

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Were I adept at shape-shifting
I would avoid shadow-lifting
And eschew re-gifting,
I would spend more time sifting
Through forms more befitting
And most likely give up babysitting!

Were I adept...

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