weave a basket, a poem , a thought
weave paterns in the minds eye, in the sky
weave thoughts to fruition
jayanthi
Today, I was weaving a quilt.
I used many colors.
It was like a rainbow had formed on my quilt.
Sometimes I wish I could sit on a rainbow.
So I sat on my quilt.
Michelle
In and out of the people she weaved, attempting to get to her gate. The airport was so alive, with people with stories and purposes and other with no purpose but to wait for a while, all intertwining like fabric.
Life is a tapestry that one can weave of many things. Bright colored clouds and laughter as well as the dark storms that come. However life comes to you, weave it in beauty whenever you can, that you will have a beautiful memory, woven from the threads that make it yours alone. ~linda marie pharaoh-carlson
Linda Carlson
I love to weave with beads… beadweaving! My sister has woven fabric crafts on a loom, but now she wants to sell her loom because it’s so big.
The threads wrap around me, twist about my body like a snakes. I had thought I could control them, thought I was strong enough. But I wasn’t. My arrogance would prove to be my death, a death drowning under a thousand grasping threads.
weave a basket, a poem , a thought
weave paterns in the minds eye, in the sky
weave thoughts to fruition
Today, I was weaving a quilt.
I used many colors.
It was like a rainbow had formed on my quilt.
Sometimes I wish I could sit on a rainbow.
So I sat on my quilt.
In and out of the people she weaved, attempting to get to her gate. The airport was so alive, with people with stories and purposes and other with no purpose but to wait for a while, all intertwining like fabric.
Life is a tapestry that one can weave of many things. Bright colored clouds and laughter as well as the dark storms that come. However life comes to you, weave it in beauty whenever you can, that you will have a beautiful memory, woven from the threads that make it yours alone. ~linda marie pharaoh-carlson
I love to weave with beads… beadweaving! My sister has woven fabric crafts on a loom, but now she wants to sell her loom because it’s so big.
The threads wrap around me, twist about my body like a snakes. I had thought I could control them, thought I was strong enough. But I wasn’t. My arrogance would prove to be my death, a death drowning under a thousand grasping threads.