Knitting pixels

I saw patterns of knit mittens in the past,

The making of which could not have been fast.

Owls and moose or a glorious vista

Or, in modern times, the face of Batista.

I especially liked a feasting crow,

Fish bones at his feet in melting snow.

Perfect genius that warms your hands

While keeping your eye on your long-term plans.

As I looked closer, I noticed a thing,

It’s made of pixels, just with string!

You could make Link jump around on your paw

Or Pikachu and Charizard sleeping in straw.

A Minecraft mountain and a lone creeper,

A Dovahkiin hat, yeah, that’s a keeper.

It’s the same principle just many years apart

Very different people, but almost matching art.

I’m gonna learn how to knit all of these

To make socks so cute they’ll make you sneeze.


I think that if I learn to knit at some point, I will get lost in the world of amazing patterns on the Internet and never get anything done. Just googling pixel art brings up so many beautiful images that it takes strong force of will to not be distracted for the rest of the day, as I did already a couple of times.


Empty eyes

I notice people, when they think about stuff,

If there’s a decision that maybe is tough,

Their eyes become empty, filled with void

As they go somewhere talked much by Freud.

They stare in the distance through all kinds of matter,

Would not notice a brimming chocolate platter.

You can wave your hand in front of their eyes,

Moon them fully, or tell them lies.

They’ll be too busy thinking ‘bout their stress,

It won’t matter even if you confess

You exchanged their pants with ones made of ants,

That fateful day when talking about grants.

This happens more often if they are starving,

Or if they’re tired from too much bone-carving.

The best thing to do in a case like this

Is to snap your fingers or emit a loud hiss.

They will come to and cease their worry,

A really good trick if you’re in a hurry.

Then you can tell them that they spaced out,

Ask them what’s up, what the worry is about.

Maybe give them a hand, if that’s a can-do,

Two heads and so on, might still be too few.

If you still fail despite your double brain,

At least you escaped from the worry-wart domain.

Secret dance

Tapping your toes inside your shoes

Sitting on the bus just listening to blues.

Your secret rhythm, no one else knows,

Hidden in the leg gloves, performed by toes.

Smiling at the hidden dance, quite pure joy,

The shoe acting as the horse of troy.

That on its own is quite a sweet thing,

But, if you happen to notice someone else sing,

Or even do their own little tap,

It’s like noticing someone else take a nap.

You like napping, so do they,

Instant connection kept at bay

Only by the rules we set ourselves,

Us and our silly little shyness elves.

Easter egg hunt 2.0

Easter eggs hidden in every single room,

White ones dressed in a pretty costume,

Chocolate ones layered with heavy metal foil,

Finding them all requires hard toil.

One’s on the coat rack,

One in the shoe,

A tasty little chocolate snack,

And whoops, my stomach grew!

We didn’t find them all, some were lost,

They will wait through short heat and long frost.

Next year, another try with brand new eyes,

The taste of chocolate a postponed prize.

Fear ridiculing

If you have a fear of a werewolf attack,

Or a vampire bite when you turn your back,

I have a tip that just might work,

It’ll show that mean, big, sharp-toothed jerk.

Dracula, for example, is scary and natty,

Quite mysterious and not too chatty,

But imagine him, flying around,

Without any pants, none to be found.

The bare, pale butt just gleaming in the night,

The village cracks up as soon as he takes flight.

No choice for Drac but to go to deep sleep,

Biding his time till the nudism sweep.

The same with the man of hairy variety,

Imagine him shaved, cold and full of anxiety.

Not so scary now, Mr. were-Chihuahua sir,

Go back to your home in the copse of fir.

If you’re afraid, feel free to try this trick,

It’s free and fun and quite the picnic.

Finding the words

This happens quite often with the people from the wordier countries, who think that silences in conversation are a bit like spiders on one’s face and should therefore be shouted away as quickly as possible. They don’t know the secret of silences being a nice way of having a quick little thinking moment in the midst of a conversation in order to enjoy the communication more.

When I’m speaking to a person who,

Doesn’t share my language, my meow and moo,

And I’m speaking theirs as well as I can,

Mixing up grammar like a proper madman,

Forgetting words and mumbling some

Thinking quite long and seeming quite dumb.

It’s quite annoying, and by quite I mean very,

When I need to think, they think it is scary

Keep on talking or repeat what they said,

Which makes my sentence-stub just plain dead.

A moment of silence in that situation,

Is a-ok, not a social damnation.

Let me think and formulate my words,

Otherwise they flutter like very flighty birds.

I will ask if I didn’t understand,

Don’t take my silence as a secret command.

To interject to keep the noise alive,

Just take a small break unlike a beehive.

Wait for a while, think about stuff

Like clouds and let me huff and puff.

I will respond with something I made

Because you managed to break the blockade.

Assuming the worst

I think this could be rectified a lot by stopping to think and seeing the issue from the other person’s point of view. But then again, that would take precious seconds, and who has the time.


I often see, especially online,

People noticing the smallest sign,

Interpreting it just the way they like,

Doing a Mt. Anger extended hike.

Always assuming the worst of someone,

Without any context, off goes the gun,

“I see a typo, you must be Satan!”

Or “He didn’t respond to stop us from debating!”

Maybe, just maybe, an error is an error,

And not meant to frighten, and spread terror.

Maybe, just maybe his connection broke?

It can be disrupted by branches of oak.

Jumping to conclusions to get a power trip,

Feeding one’s anger with a sarcastic quip,

Is not productive, just juvenile,

The lack of comprehension persists for a while.

It’d be better just to try to understand

Instead of shouting “Look at me, I’m grand!”