New knitting, new poem....
It's been a really long time, but I finally have the inclination to post...
New knitting first. The red, blue and yellow yarn is from Oaxaca. I was there on an Elderhostel trip in May, 2004. We experienced a teachers' strike during our visit, but it was so very different from the strike I've been following in the news for the past several months. When we were there the strikers were peaceful, friendly, determined but nonviolent. I had the opportunity to talk to few of them (using my very rudimentary Spanish!) and they won our sympathy even though the demonstrations forced us to change a few plans.
One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to an amazing weaver. His rugs and wall hangings are museum-quality works of art. In fact, some of his creations are in museums. I bought a small rug that now hangs on the wall in my living room, and I also bought three skeins of yarn -- yellow, blue and red.
The green yarn in the sweater has a story of its own. A little over a year ago my cousin died in California after a long and courageous battle with malignant melanoma. She left behind a daughter, a son and a husband, all devastated by the loss. She was buried in Israel and after her family left for the funeral one of her friends and I were charged with the task of packing away her belongings. Among them was a partly finished sweater. Since neither her friend nor her daughter is a knitter, I took the yarn. I couldn't decide how to use it until I came up with this design.
As for the poem part of today's entry -- I wrote this recently and it seems appropriate for this particular blog, since I suspect that maybe four or five people in the world might read it, probably by accident.
Suppose I wrote a poem and no one read it.
Would images wither on the line,
rhymes and rhythms fade and blow away?
Would similes shed their similarities,
like roadside dandelions
metaphors mulch into cliché?
Would the seeds of my inspiration
drift to some other fertile mind
and grow into a better-tended bit of poesy?
New knitting first. The red, blue and yellow yarn is from Oaxaca. I was there on an Elderhostel trip in May, 2004. We experienced a teachers' strike during our visit, but it was so very different from the strike I've been following in the news for the past several months. When we were there the strikers were peaceful, friendly, determined but nonviolent. I had the opportunity to talk to few of them (using my very rudimentary Spanish!) and they won our sympathy even though the demonstrations forced us to change a few plans.
One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to an amazing weaver. His rugs and wall hangings are museum-quality works of art. In fact, some of his creations are in museums. I bought a small rug that now hangs on the wall in my living room, and I also bought three skeins of yarn -- yellow, blue and red.
The green yarn in the sweater has a story of its own. A little over a year ago my cousin died in California after a long and courageous battle with malignant melanoma. She left behind a daughter, a son and a husband, all devastated by the loss. She was buried in Israel and after her family left for the funeral one of her friends and I were charged with the task of packing away her belongings. Among them was a partly finished sweater. Since neither her friend nor her daughter is a knitter, I took the yarn. I couldn't decide how to use it until I came up with this design.
As for the poem part of today's entry -- I wrote this recently and it seems appropriate for this particular blog, since I suspect that maybe four or five people in the world might read it, probably by accident.
Suppose I wrote a poem and no one read it.
Would images wither on the line,
rhymes and rhythms fade and blow away?
Would similes shed their similarities,
like roadside dandelions
metaphors mulch into cliché?
Would the seeds of my inspiration
drift to some other fertile mind
and grow into a better-tended bit of poesy?
posted by Knit Me A Poem at 9:52 AM
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