weaving a basket. Something people have done throughout the centuries in ancient cultures, but people still do it today? is it really that great or are they uncultured or uncivilized? What made some cultures ahead of others? People pay millions of dollars for hand woven stuff so they might actually be ahead of us all.
Elizabeth B
weave your fingers, in and out of mine
this world is ours
just yours and mine.
we can be like this
forever stuck in time.
it is only ours
just yours and mine.
Ellie Schwetz
Take me back to that place, she said. The place where the wind wrapped its grey glaze around every grain of brown earth and every seed of the oak tree, in search of fyesterdays people. Take me back to that place so it can weave its whisper through my hair and down the deep canal of my ear, I yearn for what it needs to teach me. Take me back to that place because even the breeze is wiser then the holiest of priest here. Let my naked body swim inside the the sea where all life began and all life now fees.
jessie
Baskets and blankets woven from human hair; stronger and more sinister than regular hempen product. The bazaar was full of the things, and it was enough to make more scrupulous westerners cringer. All the same, once stripped off the dead,the hair was more valuable as a woven product than detritus to collect in the gutters.
Devlin
In order to make this friendship bracelet you must weave the strands together. In a way it is like how your lives weave in with those of your friends. Never to be seperated unless you want to make a giant, tangled mess.
weave me in and out of your heart. Of your life. Weave me in and out of your thoughts, and let me die in a small corner you designate for me. Weave me in and out, and never give me any more than I deserve.
Thomas
Black girls put weave in their hair to make it longer then it really is. This is because their normal hair will not grow to the length they desire. In fights, they pull at each others weave, usually pulling it out.
Miranda
When I lived in Sri Lanka, my stomach caved inwards, and my ribs became more prominent, but my fingers became stronger. I would sit with the thread twisting around my hands. Each fabric thread was to be woven to become a blanket for the fat Americans. When I was younger, I would pretend I was an American wrapped in the bright red blanket I was weaving, and would make believe I was eating something delicioius like cake or cookies.
The little girl was sitting there as her mother tried to explain the process of weaving the basket to her. She was trying her hardest to remain focussed but no matter how hard she tried she just could not remain seated for the amount of time needed to finish her project. Although she tried her hardest to sit still to please her mother, her best efforts just did not seem good enough.
Meredith
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
Jillyn Miller
I wove a tapestry of great delight. It was to my fright that I later found that In it I saw my life, and as I wove and as I weaved I saw the majesty of my life, thread by needle through cloth of colors. That I knew that life could be measured so simply so quickly so easily. Yet at the end I found, the future could not be set to cloth, for it was not yet come, and i was not yet done.
Luis Machado
The colors of our fate lines weave and intertwine
Threaded in the veins running through my skin
Come, breathe me in
Exhale
Gaby
Weave…..
The loom was old and massive and beautiful. Caci sat and stared up at it in total awe. She’d never wanted to do something more than she wanted to weave something on that loom.
mackedee
She often found herlself weaving thorugh her thoughts like a mad women in searh of sanity but she never knew here to start. to muhch was going on and the coards of her thoughts were so interwined and woven together
jessie
The best thing you can get, but if your black and have it people ask why . If you are not black everyone thinks its yours. Pretty messed up when you think about it.
shiri
weaving wild dreams and
roses into her auburn
hair, delicately
i just joined a basket-weaving class. It’s not as fun as i thought it would be. It’s a very competitive atmosphere. The class list said beginner, but i think some of these people are intermediate, at least. It’s just ridiculous. My cat thinks it’s outrageous, and i agree.
Cait
she weaved wool. it was a rare kind of wool. one that breaks into soft strands once it is pulled with a gentle force. she knitted them and weaved them in a silent stupor, as if completely startled by the way her whole life was entangled in the soft, feathery strands.
tinker
I really want to learn how to weave. I saw a tapestry in Europe and I thought that it would be really cool to make one. They are so colorful and beautiful, weaving is a lost art. I don’t know why they don’t teach many weaving classes, what if technology fails us and we have to revert back to pre-machine days? That’s a scary thought.
Lindsay
Weave, in and out, Like the skies clouds through the fingertips, unearthing some fine undesire. Subconscious, below the surface of the lake, smooth thought trailing rough patches. Grey and brown, songs in picture form. The weaving, of the soul. Through some soft fabrics soft souls rapture.
Hab
The loom resided in the corner of the room, unnoticed by most. But the little redheaded girl tiptoed over to it while the others listened to the old woman tell of her meeting with the infamous Katie “Lawless” Cambrick. For some reason, the little girl felt drawn to the loom, were strands of green, blue and gold were half woven into a blanket.
There’s a story about a Greek goddess who out of anger transformed a woman and all of her descendants into spiders- the very first spiders on earth. The goddess was upset because the woman, Areachne, was rumored to be a better weaver than the goddess, who was the goddess of weaving (among other things). So the goddess held a competition to determine who was better, and when Areachne won, she took her revenge. Therefore, spies only exist because of a goddesses pride and jealousy.
Mel
Her hands seemed to weave through each other, in an instant, she had the string in a complicated pattern. Some cat’s cradle or other.
“Teach me.”
“Aren’t you the algebraic topologist?” she asked, “Didn’t you just write a paper on knot theory?”
He looked at the Theoretical Math building reaching up into the clouds. That’s why he needed her, he thought to himself as she looped the string around his fingers. So he could have one foot on solid ground.
Ohhh totally reminds me of the Circle of Magic Series by Tamora Pierce. I love her character Sandry, who has magical weaving powers and can connect her own and serveral others’ thoughts through her weaving. Wonderful book, wonderful series :)
The weave was beautiful. It flowed. The colors shone in the sun under Lana’s fingers. The threads lay smooth and flat, they followed her strong brown hands like the never would
Bethany Rush
“iI weaving, Im lost i don’t know were i am, i need help please somebody” and those were the last words before i seen him…
Ryan
blue, minimal incredible and great design, natural and very impact see the will shark come to me and bit
eli
The island beach bartender will weave braids and beads into your hair when business is slow.
I have always wanted to learn how to use a loom. As a kid I use to get those kits that you could weave rugs with and it was fun. Creating something colorful and useful made me feel good about what I could do.
Becki Horness
She sat in front of the fire, her auburn hair shining with it’s light. Her fingers danced through the web of her loom.
Jade L
I LOVE TO WEAVE THINGS TOGETHER, WEAVING IS AN EXTENSION OF CREATIVITY AND CAN BE USED TO EXPRESSION ONESELF WITH FIGURES AND SHAPES. iT IS ALSO A FORM OF ART THAT CAN BE SO BEAUTIFUL AND CREATIVE
weave through and fro lastly without sorrow
so these are the day
the weeks
the years
friends had been harder to follow
lead me
believe me
be me
alextemple
Weaving a silken thread into webs of love and peace and magic was her favorite job. She worked hard all day just to bring a smile on someone’s face by her weaving business.
Asmita
Fuck you! I was finally able to wield my hair as a weapon. the way my ancestors meant my hair to work. It was a proud moment that boomed of desperation.
The weave in her hair was delicate and golden. Falling beyond her shoulders, the whisps of the loose ends flashing delicately in the sunset. Her hair was on fire, twinkling in colours of orange and yellow, entrancing the boy who kept her company.
Tonia
The womans hands flitted back and forth across the loom, creating a magnificent piece of cloth, as soft as a newborn’s skin. Her ancient, gnarled hands were more graceful than any swan and her eyes, though small and wrinkled, saw more than any child’s. The villages always marveled over old Celina’s work, but payed her little attention as they passed her cottage where she sat weaving on her rocking chair day and night. Still, she would continue her work and sell her makings to the villagers. Little did they know however, that her woven blankets held not only protection from winter chills, but also protection from things far more dangerous…
Antonia
why the plain weave tumbles into a beautiful woven? it colors the cloth. It makes you think one simple weave… weave. what is weave? is it one that makes the cloth? The clothe that we wear? a Weave is a rather simple life.
Butter Salleh
Woven througH the end of time through all the sadness. Giving life givin hope be ease of this basket. Basket falls basket breaks now what to do. Nothing else but to keep holding your hand.
weaving a basket. Something people have done throughout the centuries in ancient cultures, but people still do it today? is it really that great or are they uncultured or uncivilized? What made some cultures ahead of others? People pay millions of dollars for hand woven stuff so they might actually be ahead of us all.
weave your fingers, in and out of mine
this world is ours
just yours and mine.
we can be like this
forever stuck in time.
it is only ours
just yours and mine.
Take me back to that place, she said. The place where the wind wrapped its grey glaze around every grain of brown earth and every seed of the oak tree, in search of fyesterdays people. Take me back to that place so it can weave its whisper through my hair and down the deep canal of my ear, I yearn for what it needs to teach me. Take me back to that place because even the breeze is wiser then the holiest of priest here. Let my naked body swim inside the the sea where all life began and all life now fees.
Baskets and blankets woven from human hair; stronger and more sinister than regular hempen product. The bazaar was full of the things, and it was enough to make more scrupulous westerners cringer. All the same, once stripped off the dead,the hair was more valuable as a woven product than detritus to collect in the gutters.
In order to make this friendship bracelet you must weave the strands together. In a way it is like how your lives weave in with those of your friends. Never to be seperated unless you want to make a giant, tangled mess.
weave me in and out of your heart. Of your life. Weave me in and out of your thoughts, and let me die in a small corner you designate for me. Weave me in and out, and never give me any more than I deserve.
Black girls put weave in their hair to make it longer then it really is. This is because their normal hair will not grow to the length they desire. In fights, they pull at each others weave, usually pulling it out.
When I lived in Sri Lanka, my stomach caved inwards, and my ribs became more prominent, but my fingers became stronger. I would sit with the thread twisting around my hands. Each fabric thread was to be woven to become a blanket for the fat Americans. When I was younger, I would pretend I was an American wrapped in the bright red blanket I was weaving, and would make believe I was eating something delicioius like cake or cookies.
The little girl was sitting there as her mother tried to explain the process of weaving the basket to her. She was trying her hardest to remain focussed but no matter how hard she tried she just could not remain seated for the amount of time needed to finish her project. Although she tried her hardest to sit still to please her mother, her best efforts just did not seem good enough.
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
I wove a tapestry of great delight. It was to my fright that I later found that In it I saw my life, and as I wove and as I weaved I saw the majesty of my life, thread by needle through cloth of colors. That I knew that life could be measured so simply so quickly so easily. Yet at the end I found, the future could not be set to cloth, for it was not yet come, and i was not yet done.
The colors of our fate lines weave and intertwine
Threaded in the veins running through my skin
Come, breathe me in
Exhale
Weave…..
The loom was old and massive and beautiful. Caci sat and stared up at it in total awe. She’d never wanted to do something more than she wanted to weave something on that loom.
She often found herlself weaving thorugh her thoughts like a mad women in searh of sanity but she never knew here to start. to muhch was going on and the coards of her thoughts were so interwined and woven together
The best thing you can get, but if your black and have it people ask why . If you are not black everyone thinks its yours. Pretty messed up when you think about it.
weaving wild dreams and
roses into her auburn
hair, delicately
weave is fun. i don’t know what weave means.
i just joined a basket-weaving class. It’s not as fun as i thought it would be. It’s a very competitive atmosphere. The class list said beginner, but i think some of these people are intermediate, at least. It’s just ridiculous. My cat thinks it’s outrageous, and i agree.
she weaved wool. it was a rare kind of wool. one that breaks into soft strands once it is pulled with a gentle force. she knitted them and weaved them in a silent stupor, as if completely startled by the way her whole life was entangled in the soft, feathery strands.
I really want to learn how to weave. I saw a tapestry in Europe and I thought that it would be really cool to make one. They are so colorful and beautiful, weaving is a lost art. I don’t know why they don’t teach many weaving classes, what if technology fails us and we have to revert back to pre-machine days? That’s a scary thought.
Weave, in and out, Like the skies clouds through the fingertips, unearthing some fine undesire. Subconscious, below the surface of the lake, smooth thought trailing rough patches. Grey and brown, songs in picture form. The weaving, of the soul. Through some soft fabrics soft souls rapture.
The loom resided in the corner of the room, unnoticed by most. But the little redheaded girl tiptoed over to it while the others listened to the old woman tell of her meeting with the infamous Katie “Lawless” Cambrick. For some reason, the little girl felt drawn to the loom, were strands of green, blue and gold were half woven into a blanket.
There’s a story about a Greek goddess who out of anger transformed a woman and all of her descendants into spiders- the very first spiders on earth. The goddess was upset because the woman, Areachne, was rumored to be a better weaver than the goddess, who was the goddess of weaving (among other things). So the goddess held a competition to determine who was better, and when Areachne won, she took her revenge. Therefore, spies only exist because of a goddesses pride and jealousy.
Her hands seemed to weave through each other, in an instant, she had the string in a complicated pattern. Some cat’s cradle or other.
“Teach me.”
“Aren’t you the algebraic topologist?” she asked, “Didn’t you just write a paper on knot theory?”
He looked at the Theoretical Math building reaching up into the clouds. That’s why he needed her, he thought to himself as she looped the string around his fingers. So he could have one foot on solid ground.
Ohhh totally reminds me of the Circle of Magic Series by Tamora Pierce. I love her character Sandry, who has magical weaving powers and can connect her own and serveral others’ thoughts through her weaving. Wonderful book, wonderful series :)
The weave was beautiful. It flowed. The colors shone in the sun under Lana’s fingers. The threads lay smooth and flat, they followed her strong brown hands like the never would
“iI weaving, Im lost i don’t know were i am, i need help please somebody” and those were the last words before i seen him…
blue, minimal incredible and great design, natural and very impact see the will shark come to me and bit
The island beach bartender will weave braids and beads into your hair when business is slow.
I have always wanted to learn how to use a loom. As a kid I use to get those kits that you could weave rugs with and it was fun. Creating something colorful and useful made me feel good about what I could do.
She sat in front of the fire, her auburn hair shining with it’s light. Her fingers danced through the web of her loom.
I LOVE TO WEAVE THINGS TOGETHER, WEAVING IS AN EXTENSION OF CREATIVITY AND CAN BE USED TO EXPRESSION ONESELF WITH FIGURES AND SHAPES. iT IS ALSO A FORM OF ART THAT CAN BE SO BEAUTIFUL AND CREATIVE
sea, sky, people, summer, cake, jacket, umbrella, sun cream, cake, children, sand
weave through and fro lastly without sorrow
so these are the day
the weeks
the years
friends had been harder to follow
lead me
believe me
be me
Weaving a silken thread into webs of love and peace and magic was her favorite job. She worked hard all day just to bring a smile on someone’s face by her weaving business.
Fuck you! I was finally able to wield my hair as a weapon. the way my ancestors meant my hair to work. It was a proud moment that boomed of desperation.
The weave in her hair was delicate and golden. Falling beyond her shoulders, the whisps of the loose ends flashing delicately in the sunset. Her hair was on fire, twinkling in colours of orange and yellow, entrancing the boy who kept her company.
The womans hands flitted back and forth across the loom, creating a magnificent piece of cloth, as soft as a newborn’s skin. Her ancient, gnarled hands were more graceful than any swan and her eyes, though small and wrinkled, saw more than any child’s. The villages always marveled over old Celina’s work, but payed her little attention as they passed her cottage where she sat weaving on her rocking chair day and night. Still, she would continue her work and sell her makings to the villagers. Little did they know however, that her woven blankets held not only protection from winter chills, but also protection from things far more dangerous…
why the plain weave tumbles into a beautiful woven? it colors the cloth. It makes you think one simple weave… weave. what is weave? is it one that makes the cloth? The clothe that we wear? a Weave is a rather simple life.
Woven througH the end of time through all the sadness. Giving life givin hope be ease of this basket. Basket falls basket breaks now what to do. Nothing else but to keep holding your hand.