She's magnificently lovely
She's like wine;so fine
Her love sweeter like the grapes from the vineyard
Her touch ignites and blazes up like an inferno
She's the mistress and master of affection
She's a doctor;stitches me up when am broken,Injects me with compassion when am depressed and puts me to bed on her bed of roses
She knits gowns of hope and leather jackets of passion
She knits armors of hope for the knights during combat
She chose me,I chose her
Together we'll walk out of the maze of bricks and thorns to the chamber of destiny.
Mother Nature hums a tune and sits.
While her children play, she calmly knits.
As the planets go round and round,
and the eons pass to her gentle sound,
she rocks, everlasting and immutable,
weaving patterns that are beautiful.
She knits ripples on the lakes,
the hexagons on cold snowflakes,
the spirals in sunflowers and the nautilus,
for you and I, and for all of us.
In the desert, under the big sky,
she puts cracks in clay, now dry.
With her leopard, she's so besotted,
she gives him a coat that's spotted.
Here's a game that you can play -
look around, when you're out today.
Find a pattern our mother has made
as she adorns the grand parade.
Sheep Shandra does not have to go to the store
She knits up her own wool, and she always has more
Today she is knitting an afghan for the king and the queen
they said any color will do, so she is making it green
She dyes it too? The listener was amazed by this news.
She is truly remarkable, said her cousin, McGlews.
If I need a bit of wool, I sit with her and do a spin.
Pretty soon I am covered in her wool up to my chin.
When in life, I seek simple things
I experience greater peace and joy.
I have learned from everyday life,
That snobbishness, our cheer and calm, destroy
True grace resides where ego departs.
The humble holds success’s magic keys,
Their quiet strength, the world recognizes.
For love and beauty grows where pretense flees,
Unpretentious hearts move like calm seas
Not disturbed by violent waves or storms
As the world rushes in restless pace,
They pause to enjoy life’s beauteous forms.
I love to look at nature in its plain grace
To listen to songsters singing merry notes
Watch trees with flowers and fruits in their opulence
And lambs grazing by hillside in their woolly coats
For simple things, though small they seem
Are threads that weave a great tapestry
And knits life in diverse shades and designs
Defining relationships’ sweet chemistry
Bear in mind that a simple gesture of warmth
Like a sweet smile or an endearing word
Can work greater wonders in another’s life
Far more potent than any Herculean deed.
There was once was a lady called Ullah
took a trip across to Dimbullah
Why she went there
here's the story she'd share
Hey I'm not gonna fool ya
took part in a dance called a hula
And Peder would follow
he'd tweak his big toe
He didn't take part in this wonderful dance
hung on to his chair by the seat of his pants
Wherever was Ullah, Pedder would go
his admiration is always on show
This beautiful couple the friendship we cherish
Makes no difference if they're speaking their danish
We value their knowledge from the plants that they grow
observation of nature from the seeds that they sow
This information we make sure it wont vanish
Here's a secret I now will reveal they make no claim to be spanish
When Peders at craft he always just sits
clickety clack from needles, it's a hat that he knits
Dying fine wool Peder remains silent, uses the wool a holey sock he must darn
And Ullah ? Total contrast!! She's really quite noisy when spinning some form of a yarn
They often have fabrics, by hand they have dyed with colour galore
from all of the markets they've finally retired they'll sadly be seen there no more
The day arrives blaming no one. The sky wipes its face -
forgets.
Sparrows delight the earth. A feathered serpent
slips through time. Blood spills,
the living rejoice, and hawks sing as they reap.
Under the busy sod, bones grow lighter,
an enriched soil knits more grass.
Owls and mice greet each other between mountains
of mist. Forests shed their dewy tears, then reach
for the salt of the sun.
A lizard flicks its tongue tasting once more
a world just begun.
Her name is Grandma Knit Mouse I was told.
You mean Grandma Titmouse? I asked, big and bold.
No, but you have to see her to understand, I guess.
She was in between sweaters, in a huge yarn mess.
She knits in the morning, she knits through the day
Hat, booties, and layettes, all pastel, purled in a way.
She has made a name for herself and is a millionaire now.
Grandma Knit Mouse impressed me; she was a wow!
WOVEN IN THREADS OF LOVE’S FORGIVENESS
Time-tested love, bruised and battered,
Lay like littered crystals, sprawled out
Over the steel-plated stage of life—
Dismembered and crumbled—
Like stale cookies, whose particles have lost
Their electromagnetic-like attractiveness:-
Ingredients of envious spices,
Try to inhibit any and all adhesiveness,
That tough, threading love has kneaded:-
However, seaming forgiveness, knits
And weaves supreme love together:
Cocooning new soaring beginnings.
Indeed, the most fragile butterfly wings—
Soaring in monarch majesty—have conquered
Time-tested winds of trials and tribulations:-
Yes, “...to err is human…and to forgive, divine.”
May the weaving threads of supreme love, forever
Twine and bind, these blessed hearts of yours and mine:-
Image # 1
My dear grandpop and grandma pop
Took a short vacation
I remember how my mom felt
Full of frustration
Mom depended on them so much
Babysitters were they
Days, nights and weekends were at play
They were supposed to stay
Grandma got so hot and went pop
Lost weight, wore stilettos
She changed from an older grandma
Studied all librettos
We were all surprised that she changed
She wanted a new name
Grand-maman she insisted fit
The children thought it lame
So, they still called her grandma pop
With new friends, it didn't fit
They weeded her out of their group
Now she bakes cake and knits
Also reads stories; does her part
To instill within each child
What is most important for them
To live life undefiled
The sky didn’t open—you did.
That’s what He said.
And suddenly, silence stopped pretending it was empty.
Eyes locked to an alien like it was trendy—
But the alien was memory, dressed in something friendly.
A silent scream’s polka-dotted bow tie is world-endly.
He offered me a mirror wrapped in a question gently.
It read:
“If you’ll let me? Lay still and let me rock your world.”
But I had earthquakes in my chest I never learned to hurl.
I don’t know if he got my letter,
but I sent one back—
Written in breath,
sealed in a panic attack.
It read:
“If I am the curtain…
then who pulled me back?”
Illusory energy, you steal my thunder,
Turned me into static so you’d feel like wonder.
Truth knits a sweater of desire,
But leaves the tag on, tangled in the wire.
Return policy reads:
“No refunds for souls that chose silence over schemes.”
This curtain is yours,
when you return to your dreams.
Just knock twice
on the seam
where the fabric still breathes
Miles past the nightstand
over the plastic water bottle.
the Ambien pill dispenser
and the soul-bruised eye shades.
An arrhythmic clock
knits needles of silence together.
Turning on the lampshade,
its circle of yellow light
attaches itself to my night-blanked face.
a damp mattress
molding heavy thoughts
that struggle to climb
dream-tossed blankets.
On its four arthritic legs,
the nightstand's
tour of duty continues
patrolling
one old man's conflict
with doubt and faith.
"winter knits her forest with frost as the wind chimes . . ."
Quote by _A. Weiland Crosby
winter is a tapestry of wonderous scenes
with all the hues of bare trees and evergreens
consider the tiny sparrow ...
many can rest on winter branches narrow
as snow falls beyond and frost covers their winter forest
gathering together for warmth is this tiny bird modest
Fire burning, keeps me warm
While outside brews a big snowstorm
Now all I need to be complete
Are knitted socks upon my feet
I thought I'd have them on by now
I'd knit my own but don't know how
Will you teach me how someday?
We'll stay in bed and knit away
An afternoon spent spinning yarns
Of different colors into forms
I think the way I'd like to start
Is knitting you a small red heart
A place to put your hot coffee
To rest your mug on comfortably
My first attempt, it may take long
Don't laugh though if I get it wrong
I want to do the things you do
So I can spend more time with you
I'm pretty good at crafting rhymes
But other things? I'm dense at times
Be patient please, I'll come along
It's like the learning of a song
Note by note, chord by chord
Verse by verse, word by word
I'll get it though, it sounds like fun
Teacher-student, one on one
Needles, patterns, knits and purls
My heart knit for a special girl
Matthew McGrory of Westchester, Pennsylvania
has the world’s largest feet.
He stands seven foot six.
His shoe is a twenty-eight and a half.
Converse company makes shoes especially for him.
He cannot buy socks though,
So his mother knits his socks.
Birds
care not
for whom they
sing, as beneath
skies of flickering
flowers and diamond dews~
we follow merlot wine rays..
For between steel dusk and bronze dawn,
where shadows of silent sonnets flow
we are all petals of imperfection
sharing the same sun glazed in honeyed hope~
that floats from purple hued pansies to~
ebony buds, wrapped in lilac
love and wisteria warmth,
like a blue bouquet of,
blissful butterflies
fluttering inked~
poetry
to the
stars
and
soul of
the rose moon,
mirroring his
selfless silhouette
forever calming the
freckled ripples of grieving
seas, tonight my heart knits rhymeless
pleas in saffron syllables, wishing
his gemini garden will glow and thrive…
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