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

Christy