Woodillac

My shed is equipped with tools and power,

My secret, personal hickory tower.

I’m there more than unconscious in bed,

Creating with my hands is my mental bread.

Converting branches into spatulas and spoons,

Stumps into chairs with inlays of moons.

I listen to the wood, it tells me what to do,

Or at least gives me an opaque, grainy clue.

Sometimes simple, like a spatula from birch,

Or a bit harder, an oaken observatory perch.

This last project, though, it got me confused,

When racking my brain, I think it got bruised.

A car you can drive? Excuse me P. O. Wood?

Shouldn’t it be metal? I think it should.

But it couldn’t hurt, and I like the work,

Now I have a car but I’m going berserk.

I have to decide on how to name the bloody thing.

Woodillac? R.M.S. Teak-tanic. The Oax-wing?

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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.