Knitting-Themed Poems, Quotes & Legends
ODA A LOS CALCETINES
por Pablo Neruda
Me trajo Mara Mori
un par de calcetines
que tejió con sus manos de pastora,
dos calcetines suaves como liebres.
En ellos metí los pies
como en dos estuches
tejidos con hebras del
crepúsculo y pellejos de ovejas.
Violentos calcetines,
mis pies fueron dos pescados de lana,
dos largos tiburones
de azul ultramarino
atravesados por una trenza de oro,
dos gigantescos mirlos,
dos cañones:
mis pies fueron honrados de este modo
por estos celestiales calcetines.
Eran tan hermosos que por primera vez
mis pies parecieron inaceptables,
como dos decrépitos bomberos,
bomberos indignos de aquel fuego bordado,
de aquellos luminosos calcetines.
Sin embargo, resistí la tentación
aguda de guardarlos como los colegiales preservan sus luciérnagas,
como los eruditos coleccionan
documentos sagrados,
resistí el impulso furioso de ponerlos
en una jaula de oro y darles cada
dia alpiste y pulpa de melón rosado.
Como descubridores que en la selva
entregan el rarísimo venado verde
al asador y se lo comen con remordimiento,
estiré los pies y me enfundé
los bellos calcetines y luego los zapatos.
Y es esta la moral de mi Oda:
Dos veces es belleza la belleza,
y lo que es bueno es doblemente bueno,
cuando se trata de dos calcetines
de lana en el invierno.
Nuevas odas elementales , 1956
ODE TO MY SOCKS
(Translated by Robert Bly)
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as though into two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin.
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp tempation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty,
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
"In the rhythm of the needles,
there is music for the soul."
--- from an old sampler
Winding Wool
by Robert Service
She'd bring to me a skein of wool
And beg me to hold out my hands;
so on my pipe I cease to pull
And watch her twine the shining strands
Into a ball so snug and neat,
Perchance a pair of socks to knit
To comfort my unworthy feet,
Or pullover my girth to fit.
As to the winding I would sway,
A poem in my head would sing,
And I would watch in dreamy way
The bright yarn swiftly slendering.
The best I liked were coloured strands
I let my pensive pipe grow cool . . .
Two active and two passive hands,
So busy winding shining wool.
Alas! Two of those hands are cold,
And in these days of wrath and wrong,
I am so wearyful and old,
I wonder if I've lived too long.
So in my loneliness I sit
And dream of sweet domestic rule . . .
When gentle women used to knit,
And men were happy winding wool.
Time by Minnie Gertz
Time -- such a precious
Gift is it
To work, to read, and
Yes, to knit.
Time to listen to the
Birds sing;
To watch flowers
Appear in spring.
Time to dream of
Good future days
While our peaceful
Living stays.
Mrs. Moon by Roger McGough
Mrs. Moon
sitting up in the sky
little old lady
rock-a-bye
with a ball of fading light
and silvery needles
knitting the night.
My Vision by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Wherever my feet may wander
Wherever I chance to be,
There comes, with the coming of even' time
A vision sweet to me.
I see my mother sitting
In the old familiar place,
And she rocks to the tune her needles sing,
And thinks of an absent face.
I can hear the roar of the city
About me now as I write;
But over an hundred miles of snow
My thought-steeds fly tonight,
To the dear little cozy cottage,
And the room where mother sits,
And slowly rocks in her easy chair
And thinks of me as she knits.
Sometimes with the merry dancers
When my feet are keeping time,
And my heart beats high, as young hearts will,
To the music's rhythmic chime.
My spirit slips over the distance
Over the glitter and whirl,
To my mother who sits, and rocks, and knits,
And thinks of her "little girl."
And when I listen to voices that flatter,
And smile, as women do,
To whispered words that may be sweet,
But are not always true;
I think of the sweet, quaint picture
Afar in quiet ways,
And I know one smile of my mother's eyes
Is better than all their praise.
And I know I can never wander
Far from the path of right,
Though snares are set for a woman's feet
In places that seem most bright.
For the vision is with me always,
Wherever I chance to be,
Of mother sitting, rocking, and knitting,
Thinking and praying for me.
Tapestry by Ann Creer
In the needled clicking over mind
she knits with wool soft thoughts of yesterday
and weaves his wrinkled laughter
through her broken brow
slippered feet, rocker worn, retrace
remembered Sunday seams into the
sunstretched smooth of summers carpeted vows
she nods, replacing fraying fears
of loneliness with satin sounds of a
wedding gown and dream of his
Hand in quilted warmth upon her Heart
she purls the borders of their ribbed
separation, and gently kissing
casted lots upon the finished corners
Folds it over the Earth.
Mother by Prabha Raj
Watch her, as she
Sits and knits.
As pair of needles
Criss cross,
I see her thoughts
Setting her wrinkles
To play.
The moment she completes
The picking of stitches,
Her wrinkles
Erase out.
I call it
The juxtaposition of
Mind and sentiment.
"Knit your hearts
with an unslipping knot."
-- Antony and Cleopatra
by William Shakespeare
Click on the above to go to beautiful knitting-themed Japanese haiku poems .
Note: This quotation is available as a rubber stamp from www.kaspareks.biz . Click on Cleopatra to view the stamp. Chants for Children on Learning to Knit
In through the front door,
Once around the back.
Peek through the window
And off jumps Jack! (knit stitch)
Up through the hole,
Around the tree,
See you right back! (casting-on)
Thanks to Susan Kranz, creative children's knitting teacher and Spanish teacher
May every stitch you knit bring you a little closer
to that calm, clear space in the center of your soul.
Love, happiness, peace, knitting.
Legend says that a shepherd, on whose farm a Green Pigeon lives in the barn rafters, will have luscious green pastures in which to graze his flock, a prosperous wool crop and healthy, strong newborn lambs. The cooing of the Green Pigeon helps the young lambs stay calm should they stray from the rest of the flock. With wing beating and rafter pacing, they lead the lambs back to the security of the barn area and their mothers.
10 Principles of Knitting
1. It's all about the awesome yarn choices. Simple stitches & patterns create gorgeous pieces.
2. Strive to relax and have fun.
Do not strive for perfection.
3. Be clever & daring. Take a risk!
4. Every mistake can be fixed.
5. Swatch, swatch, swatch.
6. Set goals, not deadlines.
7. Never stop learning.
8. Share the legacy,
teach someone to knit.
9. Put your signature on each gift.
10. Knit with love.
"Knit on, with confidence and hope, through all crises."
Elizabeth Zimmermann, 1910-1999
Read a poem about knitting a stocking, circa 1885 at this webpage from Heavenly Creations .
