Ode to my Clapotis
I THINK that I shall never see
A Clapotis Number 3.
Number one was a version in Blues and Browns
Knitted so long it hung on the ground
Rox decided it suited her too a tee
And so it went off to live across the sea
Number two was a whole new story
I finished her in all her hand spun glory
Softest hues of palest green
Flecks of silk to enhance it’s sheen
In my crazy quest to finish
One that saw her beauty diminish
I forgot to drop that important stitch
A small error, a tiny glitch
A design feature to be sure
I just didn’t love her anymore
I planned her quest just to see
Who would love her more than me
Then woe, woe, woe a crazy scheme
I plopped her in the washing machine
I blame it all on a recent sickness
It obviously hampered my mental quickness
Remembering this in the black early morning
An example of My Inner Knitter calling
With heavy heart I slowly trod
I looked in and gave her a prod
I stretched her out as best I could
But it was too late, it did no good
And so now I have a matted Clap
I bet that you’d have trouble topping that.
Poems are made by fools like me,
And you will never see Clap number 3.
EDITED TO ADD Cindy’s Brilliant response
I feel your awful Knitting Pain,
I hope no angst does still remain.
I don’t know how you could not bear
To have a jolly good old swear.
It seems that it may just not be:
For you to have a Clapoteeeeee!!!!
But there’s no call for saving face:
I think your forte might be …Lace!!!
Cindy2paw
A second amendment – I gifted this to a little red hen who “finished” the ode…..
A third amendment – I did make a Clapotis Number Three….you seeeeeee….
oh no!!! Brenda Dayne cut hers up and sewed it into a laptop bag/cosy after she accidentally felted hers. So you’re in good company (but still, oh NO!!).
x
h
I feel your awful Knitting Pain,
I hope no angst does still remain.
I don’t know how you could not bear
To have a jolly good old swear.
It seems that it may just not be:
For you to have a Clapoteeeeee!!!!
But there’s no call for saving face:
I think your forte might be …Lace!!!
Oh, that’s terrible but it made a great poem!
My grandmother used to say “Better to laugh than to cry dear”. Bad washing machine – it obviously went hoovering round the house looking for victims!
So do you think that is fate that you are not destined to have a Clap-3 or are you sick of the damed thought of making another?
oh shit.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
(although I do quite like the look of the felted one…would possibly make a good bag?). And I love love love the poetry – both on your part and Cindy’s!!! Except for the fact that it involved a knitting disaster, it totally brightened my day!
There are no words – except to say that you and Cindy are BRILLIANT!
PS: There’s a Flickr group for knitting disasters – you must add your Clap!
It’s contagious!!
I thought that I would never see
a poem on a Clapotis
Yet now I find there’s two (or more!)
Delighting hearts and minds for sure
And while your Clap-lessness is sad
Don’t despair: it’s not so bad
Felted scarves are all the crack;
Fling it on and don’t look back!!
No, no, no! Poor felted Clapotis – but a great poem.
oh dear…it does look cool, though. Just sayin’ ;o)
Thanks for entering my contest!
)
Brilliant poem!! Sad circumstance! Way to make lemonade out of such lemons!!
Am I allowed to laugh at the poem? It is funny and cleverly written, yet obviously of a tragic nature. I feel your pain. I accidently felted a favorite sweater once. Stiff as a board. Still a perfect fit, though. (if you didn’t mind that your arms stuck straight out. lol.)
My heart swelled oh so mournfully
When hearing of your clapotis
I must point out your poem however
is very sharp and very clever
And promise you when time is free
I’ll make my friend clap number three.
(I think there’s a clap curse. I accidentally felted one too a while back too.)
Fab poem, sad sad Clap.
Mine however, is beautiful and loved……
Great poems! Such a pity about that clap.
awww. It still is very pretty, I’m just sure you can find a use for it. It is very admirable that you can write amusing poetry about it. I hate it when I do something like this.
One summer my Dad had heart surgery, so I went down to help out. When he was feeling better we decided to build an oak chest. It was almost completely done, and I woke up at three AM and realized that the top would be 1.5 inches too short, because I had forgotten to allow for the extra thickness of the end joints.
I feel your pain, I live this sort of thing everyday. In fact this week it took three trips to the store to manage to get toilet paper. Luckily we didn’t run out, but it was a close thing.
Oh no – now it’s a crapotee! (not really actually, but such a shame!)
I so admire people who can write poetry like that. Very clever, though I feel bad about the failed Clapotis. Sometimes there are patterns we are just not meant to knit.
I love your poem! Wonderful.
I love your poem and any of the poetic responces. But I actually love the felted clapotis too! What did you do with it in the end?