sowing. that’s what I think about when i see thread. and all the clothes my mom made for me. Which brings me to the point where I get mad. because they all complain about my clothes but put me to a store in which everything’s expensive but the store i wanna shop at is goodwill which is cheap. but they don’t wanna shop there cause they don’t like the clothes i wear. I wish i could sow, and buy all the clothes i want just to spite them.
i like thread and i sew all day everyday so maybe since im gonna be a marine biologist on the california coast i can use thread to create a better enviornment for the sea creatures so there
needle because you are sewing something and its stupid and your writing dumb things on pillows because you have no life and your cat just died so you are making a pillow that says something like “he loves yarn” for him to sleep on in his grave. Hes really fat though so he doesnt fit in the coffin because you never exercise so neither does he,
The needle lay alone on the table, with a small bit of thread protruding from it’s eye. White thread. Who had been sewing and what had they been sewing? The questions rush through my mind. Were they making something special or just doing repairs?
He lost the thread of the conversation, Evans blatting on, like Charlie Brown’s teacher, his words nonsense sounds. His mind returned to the restaurant, that girl, those sultry eyes that banked a fire he’d like to stand close to.
Needles, And making sweaters. I don’t know it makes me think of sewing, and then the Do Re Mi song in the sound of music, because of sew. And when I have the loose thread in my shirt or something. Or how in cartoons little doll people can have one loose thread and get unravleed and die.
I look up from my paper and there’s a thread in my eye. It fell off the new hat I bought at Nordstrom rack the other day. I have never been so scared in my life.
the thread is so thin between my fingers and all i have to do is pull and it breaks. it breaks so easily like a moth’s wing if you crush it between your fingertips. the thread is blue. blue like my heart.
while i first thought about my sweater and how I am desperate to start wearing them again, my mind went to my thread, how my decisions and my love is going to connect people throughout my life. and i’m sad.
What is the thread that holds your life together? The thread that holds yourself together? For me I think it’s my family. If I didn’t have mine, I’d be torn apart.
i already wrote about this but the computer deleted it so i guess ill try my best to write this again. well, like i said, i dont really sew much but my grandma does. her name is concetta. i love her so much. if i ever need anything to be sewed sh will happliy do it. i save all my buttons from clothes i buy just in case a button falls off and needs to be sewed back on. i must have like over 30 buttons. sewing seems very difficult and required a lot of thinking and concetration. i dont think i could be very successful in sewing because i am not interested and i dont think it would be fun. well sewing is basically what i think of when i see thread. i dont often use thread. well, there it is folks.
I suppose this is just a theme because I didn’t submit the other writing that said, “thread” on it. I suppose many times people are very reluctant to put out there very first thoughts because they are so often messed up to them, but the first thoughts are what truly makes the person. Or perhaps the actions are.
threading through the sky every single night in my blue jet plane keeps my sort of sane…. You see, I am partially insulted at the fact that people don’t understand why I want to leave this world so bad. Are they too ignorant, are they too caught up in what luxuries they have? It makes me mad. I’m so glad to be gone from here.
It lay across my lap, but I did not move it.
It had not been touched in a number of years. I had never decided to begin to weave my tale.
The pages were open, but they were empty. I had not written a word, not spun the thread. I needed to start again.
The words could be pouring from my heart. They used to. I had to finish it. I had to pour my heart out. I had to keep weaving the thread in and out of the fabric of the world in which I had created.
we are pulled through life like a needle pulling thread. One day at a time, one more stitch in time. Is it really like a needle pulling us though? Like God, or time, or some mythical power is guiding us to our fate in the universe? Or is it more like we are the needle pulling the thread across our past?
threads
delicate and fine
swing down from a broken spiderweb
and grasp with surprising strength at your fingertips
you may have broken these bonds
but they hang on always
the thread that ties us together…
blue, thick like yarn and so long that it can stretch across the tempestuous atlantic from my heart to yours.
nothing can cut it but you.
why would you cut it? two parts is not always better than one whole
There is an invisible thread that connects me to you. It’s thin, fragile and delicate. And it is prone decay. If time allows, our bond will last, otherwise, it will break.
Sometimes I get caught in them, in my dreams. I struggle and struggle to find an opening, a way out. I finally do and I feel a sort of balance, but it’s only momentarily. Being caught in threads is an awful place to be. The threads are usually white and there’s often a light so it’s difficult to see which way to go.
its funny.. the “one wrod” that came to my mind first is Love… but that is that one thing i do not know if i have or not. currently i am waiting on someone that i do not know if she feels the same way.. its been 2 years, and you have to wonder.. is this really love i feel?
Everytime i think if her i smile, i feel a warm, my heart starts beating faster… just by thinking of her.. crazy isn’t it? what is even more crazy, is that we really were only together one day.. then she had to move to a different country.. but my feelings never went a way, they never changed..
i wonder how she feels? right now we are not together because she said that she does not think she is worth waiting… she should have known (or she probably does) that she is worth everything to me..
well, the one word was love for me… i think i went too far in what i was saying… but oh wells
if you had a thread of decency you would not be commenting on my facebook.are you trying to punish me?i love you-would rather be with you than anyone.but that is my cross to bear.i don’t want to be another trophy on your wall.your one hundred and second facebook friend.never once have you told me you love me..yet alone that you want or desire me.you never even call me your friend.please dont destroy me
Thread joins things. It holds fabric together and comes in many colours. Just like friends and love. Holds life together and brings spice. Also keeps in what not ought to be seen and lets out when it’s had enough. Thread is useful. Thread is crucial.
the old sewing needles rusted in my palms like redemption
and broken promises
they held me beautiful to the night as though there were nothing left
but tragedies to hold me
and I wake, still holding them like children in the bossom of broken
I found this “thread” through stumbleupon, and I have no idea whether I like this website or not. I don’t work well under pressure, so this is perhaps the worst submission to the website.
Ohhh my dog is now on the keyboard, any way, you know anyone could just completely change what they wrote during the “finish up your last sentence” stage…. lol
frodo once said, “how do you pick up the threads of an old life?” I have come to a crossroads where I begin to ask myself the same question. This person is back in my life and the thread is hanging in front of me.
A thread could be anything.A thread of letters or messages.A thread of strings.A thread to hold stuff together anything.Threads are interesting and annoying too.I cant cuut threads using my teeth.I always need a scissor.
“Ouch!” I yelped as the pointy needle pricked my finger. I threaded the tiny piece of thread through the thin slit on the needle and began to sew. All I could think about was trying to fix the hole ripped in my stuffed bear.
It is weak. It is usually made out of cotton. It is used to weave clothes and stuff. It is stored in a small boxes and with a wide range of colors. If something is torn, you can use thread to stitch it up.
it runs around the fabric of time hiding yet jabbing its way through unexpected corners,now all up in knots it fights its fate just to be severed by the need of a greedy dress
sowing. that’s what I think about when i see thread. and all the clothes my mom made for me. Which brings me to the point where I get mad. because they all complain about my clothes but put me to a store in which everything’s expensive but the store i wanna shop at is goodwill which is cheap. but they don’t wanna shop there cause they don’t like the clothes i wear. I wish i could sow, and buy all the clothes i want just to spite them.
i like thread and i sew all day everyday so maybe since im gonna be a marine biologist on the california coast i can use thread to create a better enviornment for the sea creatures so there
needle because you are sewing something and its stupid and your writing dumb things on pillows because you have no life and your cat just died so you are making a pillow that says something like “he loves yarn” for him to sleep on in his grave. Hes really fat though so he doesnt fit in the coffin because you never exercise so neither does he,
The needle lay alone on the table, with a small bit of thread protruding from it’s eye. White thread. Who had been sewing and what had they been sewing? The questions rush through my mind. Were they making something special or just doing repairs?
yarn, long, tangled, follow it, catch it up in your fingers and wind it neatly into a skein…..weave it, knit it, make it into a thing with purpose
Threaten the dress with thread.
He lost the thread of the conversation, Evans blatting on, like Charlie Brown’s teacher, his words nonsense sounds. His mind returned to the restaurant, that girl, those sultry eyes that banked a fire he’d like to stand close to.
Needles, And making sweaters. I don’t know it makes me think of sewing, and then the Do Re Mi song in the sound of music, because of sew. And when I have the loose thread in my shirt or something. Or how in cartoons little doll people can have one loose thread and get unravleed and die.
I look up from my paper and there’s a thread in my eye. It fell off the new hat I bought at Nordstrom rack the other day. I have never been so scared in my life.
My heart has 3 threads attached to it…one end connects to God, one end connects to my family, and one thread connects to my friends.
the thread is so thin between my fingers and all i have to do is pull and it breaks. it breaks so easily like a moth’s wing if you crush it between your fingertips. the thread is blue. blue like my heart.
while i first thought about my sweater and how I am desperate to start wearing them again, my mind went to my thread, how my decisions and my love is going to connect people throughout my life. and i’m sad.
What is the thread that holds your life together? The thread that holds yourself together? For me I think it’s my family. If I didn’t have mine, I’d be torn apart.
Fitting a thread through a needle
takes so much time.
But the result that can come from it
could be a beautiful dress
or a repair for a rip.
i already wrote about this but the computer deleted it so i guess ill try my best to write this again. well, like i said, i dont really sew much but my grandma does. her name is concetta. i love her so much. if i ever need anything to be sewed sh will happliy do it. i save all my buttons from clothes i buy just in case a button falls off and needs to be sewed back on. i must have like over 30 buttons. sewing seems very difficult and required a lot of thinking and concetration. i dont think i could be very successful in sewing because i am not interested and i dont think it would be fun. well sewing is basically what i think of when i see thread. i dont often use thread. well, there it is folks.
a thread takes you between 2 places, or it can be on your clothes. it is also an anagram for ‘the rad’
ewd
I suppose this is just a theme because I didn’t submit the other writing that said, “thread” on it. I suppose many times people are very reluctant to put out there very first thoughts because they are so often messed up to them, but the first thoughts are what truly makes the person. Or perhaps the actions are.
love hate blind mom dad forgivness amore rightous
threading through the sky every single night in my blue jet plane keeps my sort of sane…. You see, I am partially insulted at the fact that people don’t understand why I want to leave this world so bad. Are they too ignorant, are they too caught up in what luxuries they have? It makes me mad. I’m so glad to be gone from here.
Love connects us all by a thin thread. Some loves strengthen their threads, but others are tattered, frayed, or broken through cruel acts.
It lay across my lap, but I did not move it.
It had not been touched in a number of years. I had never decided to begin to weave my tale.
The pages were open, but they were empty. I had not written a word, not spun the thread. I needed to start again.
The words could be pouring from my heart. They used to. I had to finish it. I had to pour my heart out. I had to keep weaving the thread in and out of the fabric of the world in which I had created.
I already wrote about thread. thread is something we are all hanging by…..life.
the lineage of life, the web of existence. Holding together every one thing with every other thing. The road to understanding
we are pulled through life like a needle pulling thread. One day at a time, one more stitch in time. Is it really like a needle pulling us though? Like God, or time, or some mythical power is guiding us to our fate in the universe? Or is it more like we are the needle pulling the thread across our past?
threads
delicate and fine
swing down from a broken spiderweb
and grasp with surprising strength at your fingertips
you may have broken these bonds
but they hang on always
hanging, barely,
she waits for one word
one word
and she’s cut free
a thread from a sweater,
liberated.
the thread that ties us together…
blue, thick like yarn and so long that it can stretch across the tempestuous atlantic from my heart to yours.
nothing can cut it but you.
why would you cut it? two parts is not always better than one whole
There is an invisible thread that connects me to you. It’s thin, fragile and delicate. And it is prone decay. If time allows, our bond will last, otherwise, it will break.
Sometimes I get caught in them, in my dreams. I struggle and struggle to find an opening, a way out. I finally do and I feel a sort of balance, but it’s only momentarily. Being caught in threads is an awful place to be. The threads are usually white and there’s often a light so it’s difficult to see which way to go.
its funny.. the “one wrod” that came to my mind first is Love… but that is that one thing i do not know if i have or not. currently i am waiting on someone that i do not know if she feels the same way.. its been 2 years, and you have to wonder.. is this really love i feel?
Everytime i think if her i smile, i feel a warm, my heart starts beating faster… just by thinking of her.. crazy isn’t it? what is even more crazy, is that we really were only together one day.. then she had to move to a different country.. but my feelings never went a way, they never changed..
i wonder how she feels? right now we are not together because she said that she does not think she is worth waiting… she should have known (or she probably does) that she is worth everything to me..
well, the one word was love for me… i think i went too far in what i was saying… but oh wells
if you had a thread of decency you would not be commenting on my facebook.are you trying to punish me?i love you-would rather be with you than anyone.but that is my cross to bear.i don’t want to be another trophy on your wall.your one hundred and second facebook friend.never once have you told me you love me..yet alone that you want or desire me.you never even call me your friend.please dont destroy me
Thread joins things. It holds fabric together and comes in many colours. Just like friends and love. Holds life together and brings spice. Also keeps in what not ought to be seen and lets out when it’s had enough. Thread is useful. Thread is crucial.
the old sewing needles rusted in my palms like redemption
and broken promises
they held me beautiful to the night as though there were nothing left
but tragedies to hold me
and I wake, still holding them like children in the bossom of broken
I found this “thread” through stumbleupon, and I have no idea whether I like this website or not. I don’t work well under pressure, so this is perhaps the worst submission to the website.
Ohhh my dog is now on the keyboard, any way, you know anyone could just completely change what they wrote during the “finish up your last sentence” stage…. lol
frodo once said, “how do you pick up the threads of an old life?” I have come to a crossroads where I begin to ask myself the same question. This person is back in my life and the thread is hanging in front of me.
A thread could be anything.A thread of letters or messages.A thread of strings.A thread to hold stuff together anything.Threads are interesting and annoying too.I cant cuut threads using my teeth.I always need a scissor.
“Ouch!” I yelped as the pointy needle pricked my finger. I threaded the tiny piece of thread through the thin slit on the needle and began to sew. All I could think about was trying to fix the hole ripped in my stuffed bear.
It is weak. It is usually made out of cotton. It is used to weave clothes and stuff. It is stored in a small boxes and with a wide range of colors. If something is torn, you can use thread to stitch it up.
it runs around the fabric of time hiding yet jabbing its way through unexpected corners,now all up in knots it fights its fate just to be severed by the need of a greedy dress