The old woman’s hands were wrinkled and worn. She worked the reeds in and out in a rhythm that made you think you heard drums beating in the distance. It was her craft. It was her life. It was her song.
twist,laced,braid,long,fabric,entwin,hair,not real,long threds, loop,hair style,fake,not real,hair,color,some one else hair, horse hair,tight ,lose,something peple use when they don’t have hair,get out the store for cheap,not authentic,tied
hair that people (mostly girls) use to make their hair appear longer. Most weave is made of other peoples hair that have to be cut off of another persons hair into wigs or a “track”
as we weave in and out of our automobiles
we make concialltory gestures to door knobs
women live longer than men
they pull less harder
bob with lil wayne, on his album, the carter,
dogmatic businessmen trend to weave against
their car doors, they explore,
their own intellectual worth
the perspective of a dead leaf is worth listening to
though no need to adhere to
“No no no! It’s not pearl one, knit one, it’s pearl one, knit one below, pearl another, knit one. I don’t see what is keeping you from doing this right!”
“Mom, I’m not even sure we’re still weaving…”
“Of course we are! knittinghaven.com is the most used site for learning to weave!”
She made her way through the throngs of people, ducking and weaving, fighting the current. “Only two more blocks. Two more blocks.” The sounds around her were deafening and when she felt someone grab her had, she could tell her scream went unheard. She whipped around and looked dead into Jeremy’s eyes. “Oh.”
She sat down at the loom and started to weave. She had situated the loom so she could look out on to the road and watch the children in the front yard. Sometimes a cow wandered into the yard and she would jump up to shoo it away. Other times, she smiled as she watched the children share their toys or use sticks to act out something from their imagination.
we stole the fates of infinite souls
and used them to weave the moon.
spiders hang themselves in witch-trees.
yet no one sees the threads that connect us all
and doom us all.
Weaving is one of those “deep” words people always try to use metaphorically. The world is “woven” of many strands. He “wove” all the themes together to create a cohesive whole. We love to see profundity in something as boring and mundane as taking a piece of yarn and threading it in and out.
I keep thinking that I should weave my life memories into a lift sketch, on paper, for everyone in the world to read, but fear has got me got. It’s time to let it go so I can soar and win. So I can live. So I can breathe. So I can be the fearless that I am. I am fearless.
“Weavers weaving at the fall of a night
Why do you weave a garment so bright?”
Two lines form the poem ‘Weavers’ written by Sarojini Naidu… I studied this poem as kid in school. I still remember my teacher Sr. Jennifer teaching us this poem with such vigor and delight that the memory is forever weaved in me.
As I go through crowds, I weave in and out of people. Each person unique, living their own lives, going their own places, having their own thoughts wander endlessly through their minds. Each equally significant or insignificant, depending on scale.
Let me weave you a tapestry that has colors you never imagined before. A purple we would not call purple, a blue different from blue. The sunrise on the fabric will warm your room faster than the emerging heat outside. Morning leaves you covered in threads and frayed ends. I’ll pick up a needle and stitch you up if you’re falling apart. And you are falling apart, my love, at the seams.
“Ev’rytime I look over in that there glass winduh, I dun seen a ghose, look jes’ like me, staring at me, I ain’t beat ‘im at no stare contest yet, then Iz get afeered and that ghose jes mocks me and copy ev’rythang I duz. He sho iz quik, and smart, and ril fast tu.”
-Mater (from Cars 1&2)
“First I just stared at it, then I held it, just to get the feel. Pure curiosity, all it was. Then I twirled it around and played with it a little. Finally I put it in my mouth and tasted the tip, just a bit… but I swear… I put it in my mouth but… I… did… not… inhale any marijuana from that joint.”
weave is something that people put IN there that makes it grow
or it can mean dodge and weave which mean your dodgeing and weaving things.
Something you do for entertainment
Something extra that you put in your hair to make it longer
fake hair or when you cut through traffic really quickly
hair horse tail
something that you put in your hair
fake har…weaving a basket…thanksgiving…turkey….horses… ha weave is a funny word
Extinction Hair That Suppose To Look “REAL” cough not cough so fake cough.
When Cars Swerve.
hair
needle
yarn
stitch
hair
horse
snatch
bob
boxing
fists
fighting
sew
forest
When women or girls wear weave to make their hair long.
And to make them look cute.
And to make there hair grow.
The old woman’s hands were wrinkled and worn. She worked the reeds in and out in a rhythm that made you think you heard drums beating in the distance. It was her craft. It was her life. It was her song.
twist,laced,braid,long,fabric,entwin,hair,not real,long threds, loop,hair style,fake,not real,hair,color,some one else hair, horse hair,tight ,lose,something peple use when they don’t have hair,get out the store for cheap,not authentic,tied
hair
is hair product, something that you can braid something girls love, it stinks,comes in packs.
1st Def. Horse hair that goes into girls or boys hair to make they hair look better.
2nd Def. Weave that you can use to weave basket.
black, cant get wet, perm, horse hair
fake hair, girls put it in thhi
fake hair
girls get there hair done with it
horse hair
or real
hair that people (mostly girls) use to make their hair appear longer. Most weave is made of other peoples hair that have to be cut off of another persons hair into wigs or a “track”
Ya
Girls were weave when they dont have enought hair to get a hair style they want also known as horse hair.
something u put in your hair that comes from a horse tail……………
nasty fake hair
baskets
sewing
weave a story–fiber arts–in and out of traffic–hairstyle–I don’t seem to have a story here or the gumption to weave one.
Strands of silk flowing in and out creating a beautiful basket
Lives weaving in and out creating beautiful relationships
Love Joy Kindness weaving in my life with those I love.
as we weave in and out of our automobiles
we make concialltory gestures to door knobs
women live longer than men
they pull less harder
bob with lil wayne, on his album, the carter,
dogmatic businessmen trend to weave against
their car doors, they explore,
their own intellectual worth
the perspective of a dead leaf is worth listening to
though no need to adhere to
“No no no! It’s not pearl one, knit one, it’s pearl one, knit one below, pearl another, knit one. I don’t see what is keeping you from doing this right!”
“Mom, I’m not even sure we’re still weaving…”
“Of course we are! knittinghaven.com is the most used site for learning to weave!”
i wove my fingers through theirs and held on tight, as if that could prevent the strained and desperate bond between us from fraying.
weave the threads back together as best you can. they’re frayed and fragile, but they’re all you have. be gentle.
She made her way through the throngs of people, ducking and weaving, fighting the current. “Only two more blocks. Two more blocks.” The sounds around her were deafening and when she felt someone grab her had, she could tell her scream went unheard. She whipped around and looked dead into Jeremy’s eyes. “Oh.”
“Ok, I will weave you awone,” he said. His nerve hung out of his broken tooth like a loose piece of wicker coming out of a basket.
She sat down at the loom and started to weave. She had situated the loom so she could look out on to the road and watch the children in the front yard. Sometimes a cow wandered into the yard and she would jump up to shoo it away. Other times, she smiled as she watched the children share their toys or use sticks to act out something from their imagination.
we stole the fates of infinite souls
and used them to weave the moon.
spiders hang themselves in witch-trees.
yet no one sees the threads that connect us all
and doom us all.
Weaving is one of those “deep” words people always try to use metaphorically. The world is “woven” of many strands. He “wove” all the themes together to create a cohesive whole. We love to see profundity in something as boring and mundane as taking a piece of yarn and threading it in and out.
I hate the fake-up
on a girl’s face
I hate the false weave
on a girl’s head
I hate fake tits,
set in the real’s place
or push-up bra’s
false cleavage instead
unnatural lift in bust
lifts you with false bravado
trying to take little cherries
and disguise them as avocados
real men love real women
real parts with real shake
small tits and natural hair
over fake, all night I’ll take
[…and are all you bitches the same type of crazy
following an “ol’-trendemic” from the 80s]
I’m referring to the fake blonde
most often used for your hair dyes
and stupid looking glued lashes
over your clown painted eyes
all your damn lousy lies
that bullshit has me want to cry
If I never again saw real girls walk by
I’d rather hand stroke it until I die.
Can I get an Amen?!
I keep thinking that I should weave my life memories into a lift sketch, on paper, for everyone in the world to read, but fear has got me got. It’s time to let it go so I can soar and win. So I can live. So I can breathe. So I can be the fearless that I am. I am fearless.
“Weavers weaving at the fall of a night
Why do you weave a garment so bright?”
Two lines form the poem ‘Weavers’ written by Sarojini Naidu… I studied this poem as kid in school. I still remember my teacher Sr. Jennifer teaching us this poem with such vigor and delight that the memory is forever weaved in me.
As I go through crowds, I weave in and out of people. Each person unique, living their own lives, going their own places, having their own thoughts wander endlessly through their minds. Each equally significant or insignificant, depending on scale.
Let me weave you a tapestry that has colors you never imagined before. A purple we would not call purple, a blue different from blue. The sunrise on the fabric will warm your room faster than the emerging heat outside. Morning leaves you covered in threads and frayed ends. I’ll pick up a needle and stitch you up if you’re falling apart. And you are falling apart, my love, at the seams.
“Ev’rytime I look over in that there glass winduh, I dun seen a ghose, look jes’ like me, staring at me, I ain’t beat ‘im at no stare contest yet, then Iz get afeered and that ghose jes mocks me and copy ev’rythang I duz. He sho iz quik, and smart, and ril fast tu.”
-Mater (from Cars 1&2)
“First I just stared at it, then I held it, just to get the feel. Pure curiosity, all it was. Then I twirled it around and played with it a little. Finally I put it in my mouth and tasted the tip, just a bit… but I swear… I put it in my mouth but… I… did… not… inhale any marijuana from that joint.”
– Then President Bill Clinton