readers & writers, hello & welcome!
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as the weather grows colder i'm noticing a tendency to draw closer to things, for warmth maybe. today's photo prompt is a close up of denim fabric. writers, if you're up for a writing warm up, join me! poem, short story or creative non-fiction - submit it below by clicking on comments. readers, comments are open to you as well. thanks to all for stopping by, and have a great monday.
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5. 7. 5. (x2)
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sad "blue jean baby"
heavy-hearted, rent, alone
torn apart, lost, dark
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in wisdom she seeks
women friends to knit her strong
soon now, whole again
You knitted me together in my mothers womb
ReplyDeleteWorsted yarn, wrapped round needles
infinitesimal intestinal winding and wiggling
I cannot recall what it felt like to be made
But in my own hands I've started and restarted
project after project
I can recall what is feel like to be unmade
cast on, cast off, yarn over, knit together
cast on, cast off, yarn over, knit together
shit
what was i thinking
I'm glad you made me and I didn't make myself
I try to remember that when I drop a stitch
You knit me together in my mother's womb
Love your double haiku. :)
ReplyDeleteHow about I add a limerick?
There once was a lady from Queens
Who had trouble zipping her jeans.
So she laid on a plank
And gave it a yank--
Now she's coming apart at the seams.
FOUND ON THE TABLE TOP
ReplyDeleteMy brand new pre-washed jeggings fit perfectly, hugging my legs, showing everyone how "today and with it" I really was. It had been one of those warm days in early December when the very popular Popover's bakery and eatery still had tables outside and many people were taking advantage of one of the last times to eat alfresco. I simply slouched in a chair, nursing a large mug of Kopi Luwak, stretching my legs out, very obviously not in anyone's way, but also very obviously noticeable. I noticed a small spot, a kind of flaw in the material as it clung to the top of my left leg, and absent mindedly picked at it with a fingernail for moment, as my attention was diverted to the beautiful babe who sat two tables away. Then my mind alerted me something strange was going on at my finger tip. I glanced down, thinking I shouldn't even be attending to it with much more interesting things to occupy my mind, but saw that my finger had poked through the material and there was a hole about half an inch in diameter below it. The hole led to nothing. I could look into the hole but there was nothing there. Frustrated, I dug at it a bit more, but it only opened further into infinite empty space. I, of course, thought I must be having a nightmare, or there had been some hallucinogenic slipped into the Kopi Luwak, or the damned cat-shit coffee itself had this fantastic affect on my senses, but, insanely, my finger kept gouging at it and in practically no time the hole was as big as my hand, and my hand was reaching inside, feeling around in the nothingness just beyond the obviously palpable body that was myself clothed in my brand new jeggings. I can not imagine what made me decide to rip the pants completely down to shoes, but I did that and the hole into nothingness simply followed. My fingers untied the knot of my Saucony ProGrid Stabil CS, and pulled off my sock. I now was a human being with a hole into utter space from mid thigh of left leg down. I could still move what had been the leg, but instead it was the hole did the moving. Suddenly, without my being aware it would happen, my right hand joined my left hand where the fabric ended and together they began to rip the material upward, in fact when the great rent reached my waist it simply continued up the rest of body, my right hand just had enough time to scribble in my notebook this account of
krowles1981 - lovely, true and lovely. thanks for writing with me!
ReplyDeleteLinda G. - thank you, I pride myself on double haikus :) and i love your limericks, here and on your website ( http://lindagrimes.blogspot.com/ ) ! thanks for writing with me!
Chuck Galle ( http://www.chuckgalle.com/blog/ ) - VERY cool sci fi piece with an unexpected twist. thanks for writing with
Who'd ever thought that slipping on an old pair of jeans to notice they are now baggy would not be cause for celebration? At least for a woman. Each day, I pull on a new pair of pants. Sometimes tumbled in the dryer a bit longer than necessary. Yep. More wiggle room. Ought I be glad about this? My husband remarks about my slender body. I resent it. I don't mind when I'm round around the edges. Ought that not be the measure of loveliness? Never owned scales. Never will. Don't care. My gauge is happiness, not bagginess.
ReplyDelete