Sunday, April 21, 2013

Largest Knitted Poem


Do you remember the wool shop of your youth?  Growing up in a village in England, this pretty much looked like the one my mum would buy wool at.  As you opened the door the bell would ring out, and the lady would step out through the doorway from the darkness.

The World's Biggest Knitted Poem here


In My Craft or Sullen Art


In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.


Dylan Thomas


1 comment:

  1. Yes we had one of those shops in our village, Kings Langley, 30 years ago. I think it's a take-away now! It's virtually impossible to buy wool here unless you go to the huge Hobby-craft shop and take out a mortgage to buy their wool. I like the poem.


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