Bumbling Poetry No.3

To Boston

Thrown into intimacy,

I try not to knock you

With battered knees and satchel.

Sipping, then clocking your book,

I bring out mine.

Taking you in from splayed corners,

I think we must be much alike,

To come here now, to do this

For some peace in the world.

The gurgling guts vortex around

We, at the very eye of life,

Comfortable as kin.

A blink, in wide relief,

I ease away to unwind

my scattering, scrabbling thoughts.

Goodbye, good luck.

I hope you’re happy.

Gracious knits - Birthday edition

I haven't updated for a few days because I've been working on a top secret project.
My friend Nathan is a gent, and not just any gent, he's my brother from another mother and all round good chap. He has a sapling blog too, Thinking and Tea, which is about, well, thinking and tea.
It was his birthday the other day and he was woefully lacking in knitwear and elbow patches so I decided to remedy this.

I used this pattern and knitted it in one block colour instead of stripes, but I liked the contrasting edges so I kept that. If you like elbow patches, and well you should, they are easy to find on ebay. These ones are imitation leather and were surprisingly simple to stitch, I didn't want to use iron-on patches because I just don't trust them to last.

When giving someone something hand-knitted it's a good idea to provide them with a little care pack of some spare yarn, a spare button, and a wrapper from one of the skeins because it has the material care instructions on it.

One month after I started the project, and one very happy and properly attired birthday bro. I'm going to give my wrists a rest for a few days but I'll be back with something bookish promptly.

Bumbling Poetry No.2

Captain

It began with how he came to be here

Steaming tea before him and walking stick behind

One eye, red, white and blue, surveys the room

The other weeps uselessly, for the eighty years gone.

It’s been five years since his wife ‘popped off’,

There’s a dark mass of loss where real terms are kept

In the gaps between, wisping like blood in water.

There’s a daughter, but the company is poor compared

A pat on the back is far from a hand to hold.

He was someone in the navy, proud years full of purpose

Now, he says he doesn’t know why he’s still alive.

He suspects that I understand, looking at him palms up,

Head inclined. Am I lonely here? he asks concerned.

We share a dread for the coming months of chilled spirit

Despair at how to manage with butchered provisions.

I want to tap his hand twice, but instead take his change

And answer yes, sometimes. He nods, hearing always.

(If you are wondering whether there will be some happy prose on here one of these days, the answer is yes, yes there will.)

Gracious knits

Today I completed my first commission job for knitted mug hugs.

The basic patterns can be found in this book and I customised the strawberry one. In the process I discovered that I really enjoy knitting lower case letters, which is an insight into how interesting my life is.

I find little projects like mug hugs are handy because I can make one from scratch in an evening without getting into a frenzy, which keeps my motivation up for the bigger projects.

Bumbling Poetry No.1

I mostly believe that poetry should be presented without comment by the author so all I'll say is, don't worry, I'm alright now, and that goes for anything I've felt up to writing about.

Connection

I question you when I think of it

Was it your first time too?

That look of surprise, against my set jaw

Comes to me at odds.

I wonder what you do for a living,

Do you win bread or steal it?

It doesn’t make a difference to us now

It might shade the grey.

In the bravado before and rallying after

Did you waver inside, hidden deep?

Shouldering your chest into my unturned cheek

A stranger felt between us.

I tell myself that you were a child once,

Does mother know how you are?

The tears and sweat to drag you up kicking

But perhaps not for you.

I want to know most for moving on,

How does it feel to think of me?

Sick shame in your stomach or a wry smile

My thoughts spiral far away.

It doesn’t take my breath like it used to

But I’m still scared of the bite

And proud of the character in my face

Since you left the train.

Hijacked sewing box

For my first post I'm going to share something that combines two of my favourite things, craft and tea. If like me you live in constant fear of your bobbins being pilfered, I have happened across the answer; secret sewing kit! If however you live in terror of your teabags being absconded with, the help you need lies elsewhere.  

This is a tin from the teahouse where I work. We don’t stock them very often because for one, we are all about the large leaves, and for two, tea absorbs aroma really easily, especially if its broken down into fannings, so keeping different types of teabag in the same tin means the aromas mingle and diminish, and we all deserve better than that. 

But look what a good sewing tin it makes! Now I don't spend what feels like half my life looking for my tapestry needle. It was quite cheap and unlike most smallish sewing boxes it didn't come with a sewing kit, which is superfulous to anyone who is an established crafter.

My next post will be about either poetry or books, or something else, let's not lose the mystery at this early stage in our relationship.