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chembarathi.bsky.social
Chembu🌺🧶
@chembarathi.bsky.social
1.1K followers 210 following 5.4K posts
AuDHD, CPTSD (she/they) ~Bangalore,India ~
Maker of beautiful things 🧶
Bedbound by #MECFS and
Appreciate any kind of Support through
https://chembarathicrafts.dm2buy.com/
https://ko-fi.com/chembarathi
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chembarathi.bsky.social
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do. - Naomi Shihab Nye
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Famous BY NAOMI SHIHAB NYE The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom. The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors. The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who is pictured. I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets, sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back. I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do.
November 15, 2025 at 9:04 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧶 Crocheted a scarf after a long time as per a request. Love the pure merino and the horizontal waves. #crochetsky
A Crocheted scarf with pink and blue horizontal stripes
November 14, 2025 at 10:53 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
There is a window that, once opened,
can never be shut again
no matter how many good people who love you fill up the room,
try blocking it from view;
no matter how long you go without glancing in its direction-
(years, sometimes, forgetting that tempting)
- Megan Williams
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
On Ideation Megan Williams There is a window that, once opened, can never be shut again no matter how many good people who love you fill up the room, try blocking it from view; no matter how long you go without glancing in its direction-(years, sometimes, forgetting that tempting portal)-no matter the carousel of contractors you hire, their toolbelts jingling, strong arms failing to squeeze the window to its sill. Some blue mornings you wake to frosted-over glass and a draft so strong your body sways forward, that hungry view cooing: Still here.
November 14, 2025 at 8:59 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
The anthology of love poems I bought for a quarter is brittle, anyway, and comes apart when I read it.

One at a time, I throw pages on the fire and watch smoke make its way up and out.

I'm almost to the index when I hear a murmuring in the street. - Ron Koertge
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Burning the Book BY RON KOERTGE The anthology of love poems I bought for a quarter is brittle, anyway, and comes apart when I read it. One at a time, I throw pages on the fire and watch smoke make its way up and out. I'm almost to the index when I hear a murmuring in the street. My neighbors are watching it snow. I put on my blue jacket and join them. The children stand with their mouths open. I can see nouns-longing, rapture, bliss-land on every tongue, then disappear.
November 13, 2025 at 8:57 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
When grief comes to you as a purple gorilla you must count yourself lucky.

You must offer her what's left
of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish
you must put aside
and make her a place to sit at the foot of your bed,
-MATTHEW DICKMAN
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Grief BY MATTHEW DICKMAN When grief comes to you as a purple gorilla you must count yourself lucky. You must offer her what's left of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish you must put aside and make her a place to sit at the foot of your bed, her eyes moving from the clock to the television and back again. I am not afraid. She has been here before and now I can recognize her gait as she approaches the house. Some nights, when I know she's coming, I unlock the door, lie down on my back, and count her steps from the street to the porch. Tonight she brings a pencil and a ream of paper, tells me to write down everyone I have ever known, and we separate them between the living and the dead so she can pick each name at random. I play her favorite Willie Nelson album because she misses Texas but I don't ask why. She hums a little, the way my brother does when he gardens. We sit for an hour while she tells me how unreasonable I've been, crying in the check-out line, refusing to eat, refusing to shower, all the smoking and all the drinking.
November 12, 2025 at 9:04 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
I severed a leaf from its tree
And a water-drop in the green flagon Cupped a hunted bit of your smile. All things about me were steeped in your remembrance
And shivering as they tried to tell me of it.
- To One Dead

Maxwell Bodenheim
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
To One Dead Maxwell Bodenheim I walked upon a hill And the wind, made solemnly drunk with your presence, Reeled against me. I stooped to question a flower, And you floated between my fingers and the petals, Tying them together. I severed a leaf from its tree And a water-drop in the green flagon Cupped a hunted bit of your smile. All things about me were steeped in your remembrance And shivering as they tried to tell me of it.
November 11, 2025 at 8:49 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧶🧦 16 of 2025 - Raindrops on Roses by @stoneknits.bsky.social
from the Charming Colourwork Socks Book.
Second day of not touching hooks and needles because guess who overdid sock knitting? 😭
#knitsky
This is for the person who loves cotton socks, but I had the complete creative freedom.
A pair of handknitted socks in blue with pink roses motif. The heel and toe also are knitted in pink.
November 10, 2025 at 10:31 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Wave of sorrow,

Do not drown me now:

I see the island

Still ahead somehow.

I see the island

And its sands are fair:

Wave of sorrow,

Take me there. - Langston Hughes
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Island Langston Hughes 1901 - 1967 Wave of sorrow, Do not drown me now: I see the island Still ahead somehow. I see the island And its sands are fair: Wave of sorrow, Take me there.
November 10, 2025 at 9:08 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.
- Rashani Réa
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
THE UNBROKEN by Rashani Réa There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken, a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy and a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being. There is a cry deeper than all sound whose serrated edges cut the heart as we break open to the place inside which is unbreakable and whole while learning to sing. HEALINGBRAVE.COM
November 9, 2025 at 8:50 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
The lightest touch
if it is gently giv-

en can yield as much
affection as a deep

embrace soft as a
glance swift as a

drop of rain light
as a leaf I give

you these again. - James Laughlin
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Lines To Be Put Into Latin - James Laughlin The lightest touch if it is gently giv- en can yield as much affection as a deep embrace soft as a glance swift as a drop of rain light as a leaf I give you these again.
November 8, 2025 at 8:54 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Often a sweetness comes as if on loan, stays just long enough

to make sense of what it means to be alive, then returns to its dark source. As for me, I don't care

where it's been, or what bitter road it's traveled to come so far, to taste so good.
-
Stephen Dunn
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
SWEETNESS Just when it has seemed I couldn't bear one more friend waking with a tumor, one more maniac with a perfect reason, often a sweetness has come and changed nothing in the world except the way I stumbled through it, for a while lost in the ignorance of loving someone or something, the world shrunk to mouth-size, hand-size, and never seeming small. I acknowledge there is no sweetness that doesn't leave a stain, no sweetness that's ever sufficiently sweet. Tonight a friend called to say his lover was killed in a car he was driving. His voice was low and guttural, he repeated what he needed to repeat, and I repeated the one or two words we have for such grief until we were speaking only in tones. Often a sweetness comes as if on loan, stays just long enough to make sense of what it means to be alive, then returns to its dark source. As for me, I don't care where it's been, or what bitter road it's traveled to come so far, to taste so good. Stephen Dunn Reference: New and Selected Poems 1974-1994, W.W. Norton, 1994.
November 7, 2025 at 8:54 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
So close to the end of my childbearing life without children

- if I could remember a day when I was utterly a girl and not yet a woman-

but I don't think there was a day like that for me. - Marie Howe
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
The Girl So close to the end of my childbearing life without children - if I could remember a day when I was utterly a girl and not yet a woman- but I don't think there was a day like that for me. When I look at the girl I was, dripping in her bathing suit, or riding her bike, pumping hard down the newly paved street, she wears a furtive look- and even if I could go back in time to her as me, the age I am now she would never come into my arms without believing that I wanted something.
November 6, 2025 at 9:00 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
When I die, I will see the lining of the world.
The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.
The true meaning, ready to be decoded.
What never added up will add Up,
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended.
- And if there is no lining to the world?
- Czeslaw Milosz
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Meaning < When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset. The true meaning, ready to be decoded. What never added up will add Up, What was incomprehensible will be comprehended. - And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is not a sign, But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day Make no sense following each other? And on this earth there is nothing except this earth? -Even if that is so, there will remain A word wakened by lips that perish, A tireless messenger who runs and runs Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies And calls out, protests, screams. Czeslaw Milosz
November 5, 2025 at 9:08 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Thank you for doing this! ,I am a late diagnosed autistic person suffering with mecfs and I make many things using crochet and knitting.
For the Indian users my shop is here - chembarathicrafts.dm2buy.com
Outside India Ko-Fi Shop link
ko-fi.com/chembarathi/...
A golden coloured knitted scarf with Celtic cables A pink knitted hat with rounded ridges all over
November 4, 2025 at 10:37 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧶 I was informed that this one, the Royal Begum, didn't have any trouble in adjusting to her new comfy place. She instantly claimed it as hers and started resting. 😂 Made my day and so I am going to curl up like this and let the day pass. 🥰 #crochetsky
November 4, 2025 at 9:32 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
WHAT SPACE FAITH CAN OCCUPY

I believe that witness is a magnitude of vulnerability.
That when I say love what I mean is not a feeling
nor promise of a feeling. I believe in attention.
My love for you is a monolith of try.
- TC Tolbert
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
WHAT SPACE FAITH CAN OCCUPY TC Tolbert I believe that witness is a magnitude of vulnerability. That when I say love what I mean is not a feeling nor promise of a feeling. I believe in attention. My love for you is a monolith of try. The woman I love pays an inordinate amount of attention to large and small objects. She is not described by anything. Because I could not mean anything else, she knows exactly what I mean. Once upon a time a line saw itself clear to its end. I have seen the shape of happiness. (y=mx+b) I am holding it. It is your hand.
November 4, 2025 at 9:00 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
I've Been Thinking about Love Again

Those who live to have it and those who live to give it
Of course there are those for whom both are true, but never in the same measure
Those who have it to give are like cardinals in the snow. So easy and beautifully lit-VIEVEE FRANCIS
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
VIEVEE FRANCIS I've Been Thinking about Love Again Those who live to have it and those who live to give it. Of course there are those for whom both are true, but never in the same measure. Those who have it to give are like cardinals in the snow. So easy and beautifully lit. Some are rabbits. Hard to see except for those who would prey upon them: all that softness and quaking and blood. Those who want it cannot be satisfied. Eagle-eyed and such talons, any furred thing will do. So easy to rip out a heart when it is throbbing so hard. I wander out into the winter. I know what I am.
November 3, 2025 at 8:52 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
There you are
this cold day
boiling the water on the stove pouring the herbs into the pot
hawthorn, rose;
....
holding
your heart in your hands at the table saying please, please to nobody else here in the kitchen with you.
How hard, how heavy this all is.
-Victoria Adukwei Bulley
#Poetry 💙📚👀
There You Are Victoria Adukwei Bulley There you are this cold day hawthorn, rose; boiling the water on the stove pouring the herbs into the pot buying the tulips & looking at them, holding your heart in your hands at the table saying please, please to nobody else here in the kitchen with you. How hard, how heavy this all is. How beautiful, these things you do, in case they help, these things you do which, although you haven't said it yet, say that you want to live.
November 2, 2025 at 8:41 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Last year when I set up the store , she was part of the first few orders. This time also the same thing happened. Brings me so much joy everytime and I hope others get to experience it too. 🥰 Sent this one off to an old Twitter acquaintance today.
#crochet #amigurumi
A Crocheted cactus with pink flowers on a yellow pot.
November 1, 2025 at 10:12 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. - Joy Harjo
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
Remember Joy Harjo Remember the sky that you were born under, know each of the star's stories. Remember the moon, know who she is. Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the strongest point of time. Remember sundown and the giving away to night. Remember your birth, how your mother struggled to give you form and breath. You are evidence of her life, and her mother's, and hers. Remember your father. He is your life, also. Remember the earth whose skin you are: red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth brown earth, we are earth. Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them, listen to them. They are alive poems. Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the origin of this universe. Remember you are all people and all people are you. Remember you are this universe and this universe is you. Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you. Remember language comes from this. Remember the dance language is, that life is. Remember.
November 1, 2025 at 8:57 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
Even this late it happens:

the coming of love, the coming of light.

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
- Mark Strand
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
The Coming of Light Mark Strand, 1934-2014 Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.
October 31, 2025 at 8:41 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧦🧶 A little bit too much in love with this and not able to take it off. Second sock, here I come!!
#knitsky

This is Ilana Socks in Ravelry and I just tried to recreate it.
A handknitted grey socks with intricate cables on my foot
October 30, 2025 at 11:18 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
I need
more of the night before I open
eyes and heart
to illumination. I must still
grow in the dark like a root
not ready, not ready at all.

-Denise Levertov
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawns day after day, eager to be shared. Black silk, shelter me. I need more of the night before I open eyes and heart to illumination. I must still grow in the dark like a root not ready, not ready at all. -Denise Levertov
October 30, 2025 at 8:48 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧶🧦 Sending out socks to others have been making me really anxious about the fit. So when I get feedback like this i am over the moon 🥰
#knitsky
A pair of handknitted socks with cable design on feet
October 29, 2025 at 10:51 AM
chembarathi.bsky.social
🧶 This one was mostly about my arm strength rather than my #crochet skill. But have tried to make it as comfy for the fur baby as possible. Hope she likes it 🤞 Scheduling the pick up for tomorrow!🥰
A Crocheted cat bed in the round using green blanket yarn
October 29, 2025 at 9:18 AM