I poked the cat slightly, only to get it’s attention away from mousie. Mousie was panicked, and if he could make a noise, it would’ve been one of anguish and terror. Sparkles, the cat, spealed as I punctured past his fur and he jumped a foot in the air – his hair sticking out like startled flames.
I have a sewing kick that I use to mend my inner wounds. With the needle I touch up on recent heartbreaks and shortcomings. What’s ironic is that sometimes that short coming is my lack of sewing knowledge. Hence I shall use the needle passively to mend my wounds by learning how to sew. Who knows, perhaps with my new appearance and lack of lost buttons, the needle may mend my wounds after all. But till then, I shall keep my needle pointed downward and upward in equal amounts of time so to not… Ok, I’m sure this has been sixty seconds.
My older sister, Katherine, has a very limited way of looking at the world. She sees things through the eye of a needle. She says she wants to grow up to be a good, happy housewife and be able to sew and make clothes for her family, and help in the war effort. She is is 22 now, and about to mary her long time boyfriend and soldier, Mark Adamson. My mother fully supports her, of course, but I could never. My name is Magdelena and I’m a rebel. My sister says I am the most unladylike person she has ever met in her entire life, but I think I am perfect. So does my boyfriend, Jake. Jake and I prefer to be non-conformists. We listen to rock music, we go to wild parties, and we hate the uniforms at our school. My mother always tells us to be careful not to offend anyone with our radical ideas. We say we hope we do. We know better than to see through the eye of a needle.
a needle is a really sharp object that can be used for many different things. most people use them to sew clothes back together, but my main use of a needle is to paint tiny details on toe nails! they’re very precise and i can use any color i want!
Kate’s grandmother sat in the rocking chair, holding a needle and thread in one hand and a piece of fabric in the other. It never ceased to amaze the five-year-old Kate how a piece of fabric could become a Belle dress in the blink of an eye.
I use my knitting needles to relax my mind and unwind. They are helpful in keeping me from overeating while watching tv and movies. The needles’ downfall is that they keep me from holding hands with my love, and the activity is starting to deteriorate the cartilage in my fingers.
it stings a bit but I try to hold back the tears. I don’t want to seem weak in front of her. I’m all she’s got. I can’t give up now. The needle keeps going in and I can’t stop now. I can’t. she looks up at me and smiles. If only she knew it was all for her. If only.
She picked it up with trembling fingers. It was smooth and cool to the touch, familiar in a way that could either be good or bad. There was something effortless about it, and through the remorse she continued she swore that she would continue, because she owed it to all those promises made that were never kept.
This pricks, it prods. It draws its blood. It sews, it mends. My clothes are in pieces without this thin bit of metal. May I never lose you, you metallic thorn. Sew me up my needle, my tool.
Once my mom ate a needle. It wasn’t a very good experience for her. We had to take her to the hospital and she got an operation. All we know is that she will never eat needles again. When my grandma sews, she gets scared and runs away. She hides for 3 days. I hope she will be okay. She will never be able to finish the scarf she was making me.
I’ve got a needle, don’t be alarmed. I’m just gonna stick you in a thousand places and fill your veins up with colors we can’t see in this spectrum of light. When I’m done, you’d sell your our mother to get my needle back in your arm.
The sewing needle fell from pale fingers, as the princess watched her blood form a perfect circle of rose red on her pinky.
“Finally, I get to sleep. Finally this life is over. Peace at last.”
the needle’s eye. it’s a way if focusing on the minutiae, or discovering the world within a world. its the place i would like to live, out of sight, wonderstruck and able to lose myself. Its the place where patterns become mazes, whole body teasers for wandering.
Needle, it surely rhymes with beetle doesn’t it? A beetle with a needle took the ring from good old smeigle. “My precious!” he cried, and that needle stuck smiegle in his eye.
The needle flew through the fabric like it was the finest of silk instead of a questionable cotton. Susan was stitching a swan into the sleeve, hoping that her designs would detract from the fabric so she could feel like a princess at the dance instead of a kitchen maid with above average sewing skills. She hadn’t been asked by the baker’s boy as she’d hoped but she’d already started to sew the dress in case he had. She would go alone, her dress stiff with the creations that flew from her mind to her fingers. She would dance and she would need no one to hold her hand. Susan finished the swan and smiled. It was almost ready.
needles are painful and yet feel so good. so many people are afraid of them and in a sense i can understand why. it’s the whole idea of something puncturing your skin … its abnormal to see it. Just like spiders.
Needles can be very useful. For instance when mommy needs to fix the button our favorite jacket. They remind me of my grandmother sitting in her rocking chair sewing and humming along. This little tool, though it can hurt, is useful in so many ways.
was i really just another needle in the haystack? my great awakening hurt more than i thought it would. slowly but surely, i was stretching the seams, unable to fit my skin. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t stitch myself back together.
The feeling was bizarre, and I wasn’t entirely sure I approved. But why would I approve? Forced genetic engineering isn’t really something anyone would approve of. Unless they were the engineer. But that’s irrelevant.
Needle in my arm every two weeks. Stealing my blood and confirming the illness, again, and again. A chronic bruise painted yellow and green on the inner crease of my forearm. And I want to be a nurse. Ouch.
The needle is sharp, and pierces through my thoughts. One could describe this as nothing more that a distraction from the bigger picture. wtf i need to stpo thinking. needles are used to sew things together, and repair stuff? yeah im done. ap english and i cant even write about a needle.
needles are sharp. They can be used to give you shots or vaccines. They can be used to sew as well. Some people are afraid of needles. Some find them fascinating.
The needle pierced my skin. At this point, I didn’t even flinch anymore. It was a daily occurrence, and essential part of my lift now, and I could do nothing to change it. After the first time, my life changed–the way I viewed it, what I deemed important–everything. It’s amazing what a simple liquid can do. Heroin was my life now, and my existence on this earth depended solely on it’s existence within my veins.
acupuncture opens my bodymindsoul and i relax in the now. probably time to see Barbara.. don’t know how it works just know that it does. my meridians are real. and now I always have my buffalo, Frisco and blue heron. sometimes i visit angels – like
Rheta or Clara. how long am i supposed to write? and where is this going? this could lead to a needle and thread or a needle in a haystack.. and the move “Beautiful”.
needles can be nasty when they are used to draw blood or administer anesthetics. you are going to feel a little prick now. only the drugs make it all worthwhile. guess i will write and write and let it go where it will…Where does all of “it” go anyway? I am done!
they create but destroy
so many good things can come from them
they put things back together
they mend
they fix
if only they made needles for the heart
There was a needle and thread lying folded on top of the table. She was nowhere to be seen, but she lingered still, the rocking chair and empty and the book left folded open upside down, clinging to remnants of her perfume. Of musty old roses and pearls and some kind of fabric softener that no one buys anymore.
A needle in my arm. What fun. What have I turned into? Edge no more. Call me Sid Vicious and rip off my hardcore badge. Up the punx. I wonder if I look more beautiful with a needle in my arm.
Where’s the thread? Or am I supposed to create that on my own as I weave thoughts together? Connecting, linking, and smushing things together with a duct tape chance in hell.
I poked the cat slightly, only to get it’s attention away from mousie. Mousie was panicked, and if he could make a noise, it would’ve been one of anguish and terror. Sparkles, the cat, spealed as I punctured past his fur and he jumped a foot in the air – his hair sticking out like startled flames.
The world shrank to an eye of a needle as the leaves shuddered and I breathed in silently, waiting for the atom to split.
I have a sewing kick that I use to mend my inner wounds. With the needle I touch up on recent heartbreaks and shortcomings. What’s ironic is that sometimes that short coming is my lack of sewing knowledge. Hence I shall use the needle passively to mend my wounds by learning how to sew. Who knows, perhaps with my new appearance and lack of lost buttons, the needle may mend my wounds after all. But till then, I shall keep my needle pointed downward and upward in equal amounts of time so to not… Ok, I’m sure this has been sixty seconds.
My older sister, Katherine, has a very limited way of looking at the world. She sees things through the eye of a needle. She says she wants to grow up to be a good, happy housewife and be able to sew and make clothes for her family, and help in the war effort. She is is 22 now, and about to mary her long time boyfriend and soldier, Mark Adamson. My mother fully supports her, of course, but I could never. My name is Magdelena and I’m a rebel. My sister says I am the most unladylike person she has ever met in her entire life, but I think I am perfect. So does my boyfriend, Jake. Jake and I prefer to be non-conformists. We listen to rock music, we go to wild parties, and we hate the uniforms at our school. My mother always tells us to be careful not to offend anyone with our radical ideas. We say we hope we do. We know better than to see through the eye of a needle.
a needle is a really sharp object that can be used for many different things. most people use them to sew clothes back together, but my main use of a needle is to paint tiny details on toe nails! they’re very precise and i can use any color i want!
Kate’s grandmother sat in the rocking chair, holding a needle and thread in one hand and a piece of fabric in the other. It never ceased to amaze the five-year-old Kate how a piece of fabric could become a Belle dress in the blink of an eye.
I use my knitting needles to relax my mind and unwind. They are helpful in keeping me from overeating while watching tv and movies. The needles’ downfall is that they keep me from holding hands with my love, and the activity is starting to deteriorate the cartilage in my fingers.
gray.
“Ow!”
Marth gently sucked on his finger, now in pain after attempting to stitch up a tear in Link’s tunic.
“Poked yourself?” the Hylian asked.
The prince nodded, pouting.
Link gave his finger a gentle kiss.
“Better?”
Marth blushed, but nodded.
it stings a bit but I try to hold back the tears. I don’t want to seem weak in front of her. I’m all she’s got. I can’t give up now. The needle keeps going in and I can’t stop now. I can’t. she looks up at me and smiles. If only she knew it was all for her. If only.
I miss my gma.
She picked it up with trembling fingers. It was smooth and cool to the touch, familiar in a way that could either be good or bad. There was something effortless about it, and through the remorse she continued she swore that she would continue, because she owed it to all those promises made that were never kept.
Needle me this needle me that. Joe! Hand me that need…Crap I need a thimble. Needle who are you? Needle? Do you need le? I don’t know.
This pricks, it prods. It draws its blood. It sews, it mends. My clothes are in pieces without this thin bit of metal. May I never lose you, you metallic thorn. Sew me up my needle, my tool.
Once my mom ate a needle. It wasn’t a very good experience for her. We had to take her to the hospital and she got an operation. All we know is that she will never eat needles again. When my grandma sews, she gets scared and runs away. She hides for 3 days. I hope she will be okay. She will never be able to finish the scarf she was making me.
I’ve got a needle, don’t be alarmed. I’m just gonna stick you in a thousand places and fill your veins up with colors we can’t see in this spectrum of light. When I’m done, you’d sell your our mother to get my needle back in your arm.
The sewing needle fell from pale fingers, as the princess watched her blood form a perfect circle of rose red on her pinky.
“Finally, I get to sleep. Finally this life is over. Peace at last.”
the needle’s eye. it’s a way if focusing on the minutiae, or discovering the world within a world. its the place i would like to live, out of sight, wonderstruck and able to lose myself. Its the place where patterns become mazes, whole body teasers for wandering.
Needle, it surely rhymes with beetle doesn’t it? A beetle with a needle took the ring from good old smeigle. “My precious!” he cried, and that needle stuck smiegle in his eye.
Needles mean many things
For thread.
For sewing.
For body parts.
And, depending on the person, all of the above at one time.
Needles are dirty. Dropped in the alley. Grime on the sides. Needles spread disease. HIV.
But needles can give life. Blood. Antibiotics. Life.
The needle flew through the fabric like it was the finest of silk instead of a questionable cotton. Susan was stitching a swan into the sleeve, hoping that her designs would detract from the fabric so she could feel like a princess at the dance instead of a kitchen maid with above average sewing skills. She hadn’t been asked by the baker’s boy as she’d hoped but she’d already started to sew the dress in case he had. She would go alone, her dress stiff with the creations that flew from her mind to her fingers. She would dance and she would need no one to hold her hand. Susan finished the swan and smiled. It was almost ready.
needles are painful and yet feel so good. so many people are afraid of them and in a sense i can understand why. it’s the whole idea of something puncturing your skin … its abnormal to see it. Just like spiders.
Needles can be very useful. For instance when mommy needs to fix the button our favorite jacket. They remind me of my grandmother sitting in her rocking chair sewing and humming along. This little tool, though it can hurt, is useful in so many ways.
was i really just another needle in the haystack? my great awakening hurt more than i thought it would. slowly but surely, i was stretching the seams, unable to fit my skin. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t stitch myself back together.
I have a needle in my heart and my soul on a string. Maybe I can stitch back together the fabric of my life but I’m afraid my threads are all frayed.
Prick. Ouch. Stab. Pull. Tighten. Reverse. Repeat. This is the life of the sewing needle.
stop asking me about the stinking NEEDLE!
The feeling was bizarre, and I wasn’t entirely sure I approved. But why would I approve? Forced genetic engineering isn’t really something anyone would approve of. Unless they were the engineer. But that’s irrelevant.
Needle in my arm every two weeks. Stealing my blood and confirming the illness, again, and again. A chronic bruise painted yellow and green on the inner crease of my forearm. And I want to be a nurse. Ouch.
the needle pierces my flesh.
it was all i could think of
to rid the pain
i hate it with all I am
i cannot shake it
please.
The needle is sharp, and pierces through my thoughts. One could describe this as nothing more that a distraction from the bigger picture. wtf i need to stpo thinking. needles are used to sew things together, and repair stuff? yeah im done. ap english and i cant even write about a needle.
needles are sharp. They can be used to give you shots or vaccines. They can be used to sew as well. Some people are afraid of needles. Some find them fascinating.
Stick, stick, stick
You are sick, sick, sick
Stop your habit
It’s a trick
It’s making you
Sick, sick, sick
A needle
It’s sharp
It’s killing your lonely heart
Is this all that you can do?
You have not a worry in the world
What it will do
Dying, dying, dying
One more time
To stick, stick, stick
And you’re dying, dying, dying
And finally you
Die, die, die
Needle
The needle pierced my skin. At this point, I didn’t even flinch anymore. It was a daily occurrence, and essential part of my lift now, and I could do nothing to change it. After the first time, my life changed–the way I viewed it, what I deemed important–everything. It’s amazing what a simple liquid can do. Heroin was my life now, and my existence on this earth depended solely on it’s existence within my veins.
acupuncture opens my bodymindsoul and i relax in the now. probably time to see Barbara.. don’t know how it works just know that it does. my meridians are real. and now I always have my buffalo, Frisco and blue heron. sometimes i visit angels – like
Rheta or Clara. how long am i supposed to write? and where is this going? this could lead to a needle and thread or a needle in a haystack.. and the move “Beautiful”.
needles can be nasty when they are used to draw blood or administer anesthetics. you are going to feel a little prick now. only the drugs make it all worthwhile. guess i will write and write and let it go where it will…Where does all of “it” go anyway? I am done!
they create but destroy
so many good things can come from them
they put things back together
they mend
they fix
if only they made needles for the heart
There was a needle and thread lying folded on top of the table. She was nowhere to be seen, but she lingered still, the rocking chair and empty and the book left folded open upside down, clinging to remnants of her perfume. Of musty old roses and pearls and some kind of fabric softener that no one buys anymore.
A needle in my arm. What fun. What have I turned into? Edge no more. Call me Sid Vicious and rip off my hardcore badge. Up the punx. I wonder if I look more beautiful with a needle in my arm.
Where’s the thread? Or am I supposed to create that on my own as I weave thoughts together? Connecting, linking, and smushing things together with a duct tape chance in hell.