#wayoflife
The age of 12
I made my first Afghan 276 squares.
Grannies taught me their wears
Gave me scraps and skeins
My Love of crochet remains
Crochet a single thread
A blanket Afghan to warm a bed
One of a kind originals custom made
Top grade yarn does not fade
They taught me a single stitch.
50 years later, I have found my niche.
Double crochet I’m on my way
All the other stitches were child’s play
Crochet a single stitch
Learn the tension know the pitch
I can look at any picture and make it
Original item sight unseen
Creative licensure if you know what I mean
Crochet matrix, I see in my dreams
Counting the stitches, blocking the seams
Crochet a single thread and hook
I taught myself how to read a pattern book
The vast Spectrum of colors to the naked eye
The beauty so vibrant it can make me cry
Passion is not skin deep
Much deeper into the psychic crochet creeps
Color dances in the light
Competing colors dual a fight
Those are the colors that don’t seem quite right
The color wheel never lies
Crazy color matches defy
Color never silent, has much to say
Always willing to explore convey
Weather in the light of day
Or in the shadows of mutate Gray
A ball of yarn socks to ****
Crochet A single thread,
From a concepts in your head
Creativity, leaps, and bounds
Every color can be found
A sweater made commercial grade
Pieces measured pattern devised
Errors Correcting stitches revised
Coming together before my eyes
Yarn by color in bins to keep out the dust
sit in the yarn room for inspiration a must
When the colors speak to me
I can set the pattern free
I am the opposite of hidebound
I am willing to try new concepts and ideas
to keep me fresh and relevant
That flexibility is heaven sent
When I can see the finished product in my head
Time to set out the colors on my bed
Littler pieces, a crocheted beanie hat
I make up as I go along.
I can finish a hat in 20 minutes
Approximately four to five country songs
It’s as simple as that
I have 125 finished hats
preparing for the Christmas season
Crocheting I don’t need a reason
But it helps
A lap throw sofa blanket made in three days
The finish pattern will amaze
Im fast and I make a product that will last.
My crocheted items are made with love
because my talent is a gift from up above
BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
August 10
Hidebound
Someone or something described as hidebound is inflexible and unwilling to accept new or different ideas
Inspired songs
Somewhere over the rainbow by Judy Garland
Footnotes
I use crocheting to help alleviate my pain. If I’m hurting, I focus everything on the crochet stitch the line whatever it is. I’m working on finish this row put it all into the crochet preoccupy myself. I’ve done that for many years. That’s why I’m so fast
dealing with the pain is a preoccupation.. If you’re gonna be hurting when you’re sitting down, you might as well be up and walking around preoccupy your time until the pain will let you go.
It really gets me going to have a finish item that I would like to keep for myself. That’s how much I like it then I know I have a good product. It’s really hard for me to finish an item that somebody wants that is really ugly lol but the customer is always right. It’s hard for me to get excited about somebody else’s creation. I keep coming up with something new something fresh something different. It might be the same pattern and different colors but every pattern I have is an original in mine. The trim from this blanket the center of that blanket. I’ve even used modified lace doilies pattern and made them into a blanket. It came out fantastic. A lot of work, but it was worth it. Some blankets are so intricate. I wouldn’t do them again. I like taking baby blankets and making them when you’re watching TV and you don’t need a whole heavy blanket. You just need a lap throw perfect.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 1:46 AM UTC
Being a hero,
still thoroughly despised --
for some bad manners.
Apr 8, 2024
Apr 8, 2024 at 3:43 AM UTC
As you are just get going for a talk,
Few queries I have please do not balk.
Is this important , what do you speak?
People have issues, solutions they seek?
Or you have soapbox, desire to show,
What is inside , you need a window.
To ***** the all , which have been repressed,
For years days nights ,yet to be expressed.
It matters not whether, they make any sense?
Already so clamor , making it intense.
What solace you granting, while making this talk?
Or you need someone, with whom you can walk?
Think just one opinion can make someone fall,
If treated with care it, may shape someone tall.
Not always a weapon which wins a war,
Words can often be lethal and fatal at par.
Wordings are blessings and your asset too,
So use them with wisdom and not just a boo.
You know It is foolish to go for a walk,
Like Jackals in Jungle gather for talk.
Ajay Amitabh Suman: All Rights Reserved
Nov 28, 2021
Nov 28, 2021 at 1:57 AM UTC
Rule 1
If you want
To love
"Pinch the soul"
I repeat
Rule 2
If you wished
To be loved
"Surrender"
Read that again
Rule 3
If you want
Both of it
"Get ready"
You will
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 4:42 AM UTC
And he said
I'm not 9 to 5 person
Sometimes I'm
7 to 9
Sometimes I'm
10 to 7
Sometimes I'm
Round the clock
But while I rest
I just neglect
The **** time
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
***** asked her/him
"What is the thing I need to change?"
All of the sudden
She/He replied
"Obsession"
"Obsession with me"
In silence, ***** thanked
For reminding
A reason
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 5:16 AM UTC
Tell them
Mostly ***** stays silent
Sometime ***** has something to say
And sometime ***** has to behave arrogant
And sometime ***** has to turn the back
To keep distance
***** has to do
All this
Just to keep alive
God in HIM/HER
Tell them
***** is different
Not everyone understands
And, they don't have to
What is going on
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
प्रेम छ कतै, कतै दुःख, आक्रोस, निरासा
दयाको खानि कतै, उत्खनन गरे कतै धोखा
झुटैझुटका कहानीहरु, कतै दुःख निरासा
कुसलताले झिक्न सकिन्छ सम्मानका भाषा
ज्ञानको छत्र चढाउ, अस्त्र बुद्घिको
कतै मुर्खका फणहरु, कतै स्वच्छ राह
कतै सृजनाका झरनाहरु, कतै उर्जा, उत्साह
दुबिधाका रुपहरु, कतै नीरस अन्धकार
लिलै लिलाको देख्छु यो संसार
कतै दानव मान्छेहरु
कतै मानवहरुभित्र इश्वरको वास
कतै मौनता, कतै छ मुस्कराहट
करुणाका कथा कतै, कतै कर्मका रुपहरु
उल्झन आरोप कतै, कतै संर्घष, समस्या
अविश्वास कतै, कतै रुखोपना
कृतज्ञता कतै, कतै प्रसंसै प्रसंसा
कतै संबेदना, कतै सद्गुण
प्रेम, मायाको खानी कतै
कतै निष्ठा, कतै बैराग्य
सत्य, सेवा कतै, कतै सर्मपण
लिलै लिलाको संसारमा
रहश्यै रहश्यको मुहान ।
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
This desert is our life.
From the dry earth we gather roots and melons.
Over the endless sands we hunt the gemsbok and the springbok.
Sometimes the ga roots are shriveled and bitter.
Sometimes men are sick with thirst and hunger.
When there is water we drink and sing and clap our hands.
When there is food we eat and dance and clap our hands.
The eland does not come to us and ask to be eaten --
one must know how to make the arrow and poison it
and where to look and how to hide and shoot. . . .
What man is so foolish as to expect more? To expect
the rain to be always falling, his eggs full of water and
his stomach full of meat?
You have strong animals to carry you.
You have much food and water.
Your digging sticks are hard and sharp.
Your shooting-sticks are like lightning.
You are a powerful man and a good man.
I can see that in your eyes.
But what you offer is a dream.
You can give us water and meat.
You can fill our hands with tobacco and perfect beads.
But you cannot give us happiness.
A man can only drink so much and then he is full.
If a man is always eating honey, he tires of it and becomes sick.
And even if all life were sweet --
what man is not food for lions and dogs?
A man who has tasted in his life no bitterness will find death very bitter.
My mouth longs for sweetness
but sweetness brings bitterness
and in the end they are one.
So I ask you:
Take your digging sticks and your shooting-sticks.
And do not leave them behind.
Go to the green lands you came from.
We shall walk in this desert as we always have.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Ambivert
By default
He is
If He enjoys, He'll
If He have to, He'll
If it keeps harmony, He'll
If it needs fake smile, He'll not
If it disturbs his mind, He'll not
Extrovert 100%
To the closed circle
He is
Introvert 100%
To the rest
He is
Ambivert
By default
He is
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
He stays
Silent
Most of the time
If he have to tell
Something
Elegant
That instant
He prefers
A brief whispers
Too exclusive
Too simple
He is aware of
Bystandar
Believes
It must be
A Poetry
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 2:32 AM UTC
Fires burn all night,
it's been so long,
since we've all seen one another,
As dancing flames lick the air,
pulling an all nighter,
a willing sacrifice,
is offered,
to the heating God,
a Soapstone fireplace,
made locally,
In her lovely sturdy black cast iron,
she's rugged that baby,
cooking everything perfectly,
in the kitchen,
& heating everything else in the house,
to perfection too,
Warmed hearts beat,
A single tear falls,
as we survived the day,
a load off my mind,
some relief from the grind,
Again,
I'm soooo,
satiated,
from my,
middle Eastern dinner,
sharing the love,
& the brilliant composition,
WOW I hear -
A-mazing chef, truly,
Ahhhh t'was nothing really,
but thank ya,
emmm...
roasted root veggies,
prepared,
with a lovely maple glaze,
spicy and sweet,
but really such a filling treat,
A cherry glazed ham,
arugula, herb & green salad,
homemade oat rolls with fresh Vermont butter,
melted,
Yum,
I'm a piece of Vermont,
my capable hands,
handed down to me,
making Wintry
M A G I C
in your kitchen,
cuz' I'm just a guest tonight,
in this house anyway,
The twinkle lights in the room,
look just like dragonflies to me,
gold and orange shining,
so glad they stopped in,
everyone,
all day,
Good people,
good food,
good times,
GREAT memories,
It must be 80 degrees in here,
I'm roasting in this place,
As a lone candle is left flickering,
into a small mountain of wax,
as it is dripping down the side,
permanently changing the mantel,
My alter,
just for you,
is adorned with crystals & stones,
as I hold a crucifix & bones,
I pray another day like this,
folded hands don't lie,
early till late,
finally a reprieve,
I try to believe,
As tired grateful hands and bellies,
my "fandamnly"
are all in jammies,
& tucked in tight,
love you all I say goodnight,
sweeeet dreams sweet poets,
All in flannel and the like
as our boots & mitts dry out,
A busy fire,
is doing so much,
a fan is whirring,
all are,
resting so peacefully,
a mother's true joy,
a lover, & a friend,
on whom you can depend,
I love you all so very much,
I miss you too,
I'm watching that beautiful man sleep,
and snore so low,
watch him breathe again,
I say please don't go,
As the heavy wet snow,
blankets these Green mountains,
covering my world tonight,
it cleans the sins of the day,
& yesterday,
wash us clean,
in that pure white,
Low music,
is playing,
into the still,
it was left on,
I remember it all with you,
& I probably always will,
cheers my love,
wherever you are,
so very very far above,
My head is down on a soft pillow,
warm sheets and blankets,
As I set to see you again,
in my dreams,
Gently closing my eyelids,
you bid me adieu,
again I'm reminded,
reminded of you,
Yup,
pulling an all nighter with your memory again,
As I,
just,
d
r
i
f
t
.
.
.
.
.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
We were travelin' down
a Lost Highway
Down some Dusty Back Wood Road
Way Out in the Sticks
East of Overshoe
West of Bumfuc*
Out in the middle of nowhere
on a Crazy Hot Summer Afternoon
We had the windows down
Just Whistlin' Dixie
feelin' and shooting
the breezy air conditioning
admirin' the lovely green quiltin' of the
lush Green Mountains
We had some smiles on our faces
listenin' to the tunes
playin' on the radio
It must have been our favorite song
because we were really singin'
Enjoying the thoughts
that this music was bringin'
As the world just passed on by
I could see it in your eyes
I'm sure you thought it in mine
"And you're right my friend
can I tell you more about it
just up around this next Bend?"
"Cause you got your life going on
and I got mine
but somehow today our lives are....
well... they seem intertwined
And it's all good."
Rocks and pebbles
keep kicking up from those back tires
of a Shiny Turquoise Blue Ford F150 Flareside Pickup Truck
named Lucy
and "I really love that sound ya know?"
"Ya...I do."
"This place
this whole place
it's like a endless and beautiful
picture show
and I don't want to go
home just yet
If you weren't here... I'd swear that I must dreamin' ".....
"So let's pull over
that looks like a good spot right here
You could have another beer
You know....take a Little Rest Stop
"Turn the engine off
just don't take out the key"
"So what are you thinking there
my Cherie?
What's really on your mind?"
"Well... I don't know
just wondered if you can kiss me?"
"Awwwww.....sure I'll kiss you sweetie"
"You know I'm in this really strange place
Something that time....
just can't seem to erase"
"You don't need to explain
and stop racking your brain girl
..It's all good."
As he slowly slid his strong warm hand around the back of my neck
And pulled me in close
I got lost in the most Beautiful
Moment....
Dreaming while I was Wide Awake.
Cherie Nolan © All rights reserved.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
What is a man, if not a moment of time?
A moment, lived truly alive,
Soul dancing to the hymn of life,
Pure, lucent, the chains forgotten?
What is a man, if not a drop of rain?
Falling into the sea's might,
Together with so many, and yet alone,
Not knowing, or comprehending, yet putting up a fight?
What is a man, if not a child?
At the quest of a treasure, mundane,
Laughing, crying, at a moments rest,
As the waters of his mind rage disdain?
What is a man, if not a childish dream?
A glimpse of the truth.
A picture, divine.
What is a man if not the truth inside?
What is a man, if not his deepest fear?
Monsters which under the veil, hide,
What is a man, who knows not,
The darkness is all but an absence of light?
What is a man, if not a closed fist?
Clutching, hanging on to an illusion, vain,
"To let go would be absurd", he tells himself,
As the other hand wipes tears from the pain.
What is a man, if not a fool, sly?
Calling the truth too fantastic, the song too sweet?
A fish afraid of the sea, a bird fearing the sky,
What is a man, if not his spirit, indeed?
What is a man, if not a writing in dust?
Words, which in the next moment, cease,
What is his life, if not a delusion?
Erased from existence, come the breeze?
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Heed not to the words of the world.
And heed not to the wavering mind.
Heed only to the majestic hand of life,
Kneel only to the solemn love of God.
Love not the glamour of youth.
Adore not the glittering dreams it gives.
Believe in one simplistic life
And make it divine as long as you live.
Live not like the common stock of people.
Live not like the worst of their outcasts.
Live like the ones who run away,
Never to return and never to see again.
-The Silent Poet
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
I start in the ground.
I just lay there without a sound.
For now I am just a little seed. Hopefully when I grow up I am not mistaken for a ****
For now I am just to wait.
To wait for the cold and dry to dissipate.
Soon will come the warmth and water.
That will help me grow tall and strong so that I may not totter.
I will then have the strength and power,
to finally be called a flower.
I will finally be able to feel and chase the sun.
Which is what I do for fun.
I follow it from beginning to end.
This is my daily trend.
When my final days come near.
I'm will be glad that I cannot shed a tear.
I hope to be picked as a child's treasure
and to become a mother's pleasure.
So in the end when I wilt,
I will remember the happiness that I have built.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
I hear the stories my books tell, all the different stories I hear.
Each one carries a new way of life.
Those of witchcraft and wizardry tells stories of magic, spells, and potions. Carrying the many whispers of witches and wizards, warlocks and giants.
Those of angels and demons tell of epic battles and fallen angels. The cries from the battlefield as heaven and hell clash call out to me.
Those of vampires tell of monsters that only come out at night, with cold touches and bloodlust. Of temptation and desolation.
Those of forbidden love tells stories of love lost and found again. Of happily never after's that carries broken promises. And soon the tears from the heart broken begin to match my own.
Those that tell of innocence lost, yearn to be consoled and heard. So that perhaps they're not alone and that their pain is shared. With the possibility of a silver lining.
I hear my books calling for me, I hear them loud and clear.
Each book yearning to unleash its story, welcoming me with into its world with open arms
(a.d)
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC