Bolso conejito, con una mola, mi sobrina armó este bolso y le puso una borla de hilo de colores.
Las molas, provenientes de la cultura Kuna que comparte el territorio de Colombia y Panamá, son confecciones decorativas de telas, trabajadas al revés con la técnica del llamado bordado aplicado, elaboradas con vistosos textiles de diferentes colores.
Las molas, trabajadas tradicionalmente por las mujeres de la comunidad Kuna, no solamente son prendas diferentes e irrepetibles. Las molas son toda una filosofía, una tradición conservada. En ellas, las mujeres se visten toda la vida y con ellas se hunden en la tierra, cuando llega la muerte.
“Miércoles Mudo” es un carnaval de blogs o blog hop iniciado por Maybelline de Naturalmente Mamá
¡Feliz Miércoles!
| Visita los blogs que participan en el Miércoles Mudo haciendo | click aquí |
les quedó muy gracioso!! feliz mm
ResponderEliminarGracias por decierlo, Marietta, mi sobrina es muy cuidadosa y hace las cosas muy bien y bonitas. Un gusto recibir tu visita.
EliminarLove
EliminarSoft and warm
Sealed with care
Sweet and kind
Will ever share
Brave and strong
Yet so fair
That is her
She's always there
Sensitive
to despair
Harkens to
others welfare
Delicate
she's elsewhere
Beautiful
beyond compare
If you meet her
Best Beware
She'll steal your heart
unaware
Her name is Love
This I swear
There's none like her
anywhere
Precioso conejito, me encanta esa composición con espirales!
ResponderEliminarSi las molas son hermosas, las diseñan las mujeres de la cultura Kuna y lo hacen con la fauna y flora de su entorno. También aplicándole mucha imaginación.
EliminarEl tema que se suele repetir en la mayoría de las molas, es la imagen del laberinto. Los indios Kuna creen que el hombre, la exuberante vegetación tropical y los animales son constantemente reunidos a través de caminos complejos.
EliminarWhat you mean to me
EliminarMy mind is longing for love,
A love my heart just found.
Words will not describe!
The emotions I feel inside.
When we are together,
I need to hold you close.
Heart to mind, or lips to lips.
I love your smile,
your sexy charm,
Your valiant walk,
your long flowing hair,
All these things sets alarm.
To each day I walk alone,
No one can fill my heart… your home.
I think about you all damn day,
But mostly when I lie awake.
I never dreamt much in the past,
Now I do and it's for you.
I will stand by your side,
Through thick and all,
To see that gorgeous smile,
That always makes me fall.
When you think you have nothing left,
I SWEAR to you, I'll be left.
Your gentle lips and your beautiful glow,
An angel I have, from head to toe.
I know these words,
my heart has shown,
To you I vow these words alone.
Love,
Me
¡¡Qué bolso tan original!! No conocía este tipo de artesanía. ¿Dices que se llama Mola? Es muy original y colorido. Gracias por compartirlo.
ResponderEliminarUn placer conocerte. Feliz MM. Un saludo.
El tema que se suele repetir en la mayoría de las molas, es la imagen del laberinto. Los indios Kuna creen que el hombre, la exuberante vegetación tropical y los animales son constantemente reunidos a través de caminos complejos.
EliminarLas hacen las mujeres de la cultura Kuna.
Las MOLAS se tejen manualmente en telas de algodón de formas cuadradas o rectangulares y de variados colores, telas que al ser perforadas y superpuestas dan como resultado un producto de significado especial y simbólico.
Lost Love
EliminarVoid, empty, hollow inside
My dreams have fled, my hopes have died
Existence has no reason
Life's just passing with each season
She was my life, my hope, my love
All is gone, passed by thereof
The hurt is such no one should bear
What's to life, why should I care?
I weep all night for my love gone
My heart is sick, for death I long
Mine eyes well tears for love that's lost
I'll mourn always for the great cost
But in each day Lord give me hope
Strengthen me so I may cope
Grant me wisdom to help me see
Thy great way and not just me.
No conocía lo de las molas, es muy bonito
ResponderEliminar.
Besos
Raquel
.
Si mi sobrina tiene mucho cuidado con las obras manuales.
ResponderEliminarMuy bonito!
ResponderEliminarMaybellini, agradezco tu visita y mucho más tu idea del Miércoles Mudo. Estoy encantada.
EliminarAna María -Penélope
The Revenge Of Love
EliminarOh! Rukmoni, are you listening?
How can you listen!
As you are living in a far away land
By chance if you listen this poem
In the sky or air, take it for granted
That it has been written
For you and if you have time to spare
Go to the silent bank of the river
Or listen to it closed door ever.
Oh! Rukmoni,
I have taken the revenge
Not against you
But against me,
The job why I had not got
In the proper time why I had not.
So when I was breaking the steps
Of the heart of yours
And the houses and the doors.
The steps were trembling
The stars of the sky were whirling
In a fear as if the things might go in a wrong way
Your parents would come out and say
That it would not be possible for them to keep the promise at all
Though to me they would be extremely polite humble.
Suddenly all the hopes would get their wings
Flying like a thread less kite all the dreams.
The job I have got today
And beg to you to pardon me
Why in the proper time I did not!
So you are away from me …apart
Still I feel you in the corner of my heart
And in my every dropp of blood red
And in the every soft touch of the wind.
Just remembering the name of you
I get an immense pleasure in the world of dream
Like a white cloud floating in the paradise
When I am in the ocean of sorrow of my life.
So many brides I have seen
So many brides I have been shown
I have rejected them all
Saying ‘'I am very well alone''
They will not feel the stone
They will not feel the feather
Of my heart and soul
Which I feel lying alone
Looking at the doors of my dream
Tearing down of all the bondage
My love is coming….!
Even though living in the reality
I don't understand why
This is not a truth, it's a lie.
In the multitudes
I am alone and bitterly lonely
With a delirium mind and a heart full of pangs and agony
The eyes are in the sky, I walk down the road
And in my imagination I draw your face in the cloud
Who are sometimes laughing!
Who are sometimes crying!
What is that to me?
Even you are away from me
I got you in the clouds of imagination
In every pose and in every position
Just like that, come to me
And sit down to say sweet or sad story
I promise, I shall not end the journey.
To make me forget your memories
The virtual road ends in my house
I could not do anything but to stand up
In the wall of your picture to draw up
Which sometimes crying!
Which sometimes laughing!
Playing the flute of the dolorous
The nectar of my heart glorious
She talks with me like a mad woman
And saying that I became a mad man.
Qué hermoso trabajo manual. Admiro mucho a las personas que saben hacer esa cosas. Yo solo sé firmar... jajajaj
ResponderEliminarSaludos desde Aruba
M.M.