Very subtle. Still it weaves a better story.

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Weaving the stories with the words you left.

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As weavers,
we weave.
As spinners,
we spin.
And somewhere,
in the loom’s blur, 
Our poems begin.

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I don't need you to be my muse..
I can weave my own fairytale!

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Past made her
trust threads so thin
that it was difficult for her
to weave the present cloth...

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A poet is not just a poet--
A writer of his own thoughts,
Or a dreamer, weaving a web
of his beautiful dreams ;
He should also be a
blacksmith's hammer
to shape the world
on the anvil of his ideals.

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The tenderness of your hand
when it holds mine.
The clamour of your chuckles
that fills my void.
The sweetness of your kisses
that aligns my smile.
To everything you do
a new poetry arise,
with the complications
of describing each yarn
you weave around my mind.

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When two souls intertwine,
the universe conspires to weave
the strings of their hearts
into a story.

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Unbeknownst to you
I wove my poetry around your flowers
And the magic began.

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Flaking her out, he poured
lament in his verses left behind.
Hand picking each out from shards
of 'grief' unkind, she weaved
out a broken poetry,
no one could rhyme.


• handloom of life •

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