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Poetry Magnum Opus

YarnSpinner

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About YarnSpinner

  • Birthday 05/26/1933

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Michigan
  • Interests
    With 26 years already behind me, I enjoy being retired.

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  1. YarnSpinner

    The Box

    Tinker: You have described it perfectly. In the past 3 years she "The Box" (Angel) dance by my wife's bedside many...many times. YarnSpinner
  2. YarnSpinner

    White Powder Sugar

    I see you rolling your eyes. Would you like to read an example? YarnSpinner
  3. YarnSpinner

    Daily Poem Challenge

    See "Whatzit" YarnSpinner
  4. YarnSpinner

    Daily Poem Challenge

    I should say my timing is too late, but instead, I'll just say the bus has already come and gone. I'll just catch the next one, it's going in the same direction. Many readers will consider this poem the work of a Prophet Of Doom; Humorless Cynic, or Pessimist. Well, they could be right. It should be noted, there are alarmists, warning the World of misuse of our natural resources. We could be headed into an abyss, that we may never recover from? Not Recyclable, No deposit, No return From outer space, came one and all, To study a planet near a sun named Sol. To learn of mishap and despair, How a planet died, from lack of care. Its atmosphere is dismal and black. Nothing now could change it back. Thousand of years still drifting down, Pollution settles onto lifeless ground. Deep beneath its soil below, Water lays silent, no place to go. It became corrupt...multitudes were cursed. Filters were useless, they perished from thirst, It must have been a dreadful fear... Alarming, yet they seemed not to hear. Many things they could have done, Yet chose instead, to do little or none Earth was once a beautiful place, Populated by the Human Race They ravaged it; gave nothing in return, Their planet changed, scorched, then burned Visitors grieve this place called Earth. It lacks essence of happiness or mirth. Forever it will remain for all to see, Waste and greed has a harsh penalty. Yarnspinner
  5. YarnSpinner

    Daily Poem Challenge

    There is some truth to Edgar Allen Poe's statement. However It might be said, and he did not mention...there are a writers who have trained themselves to waken during these moments of dreaming at night, and jot down highlights of said dreams in order to recall them the following day, There are times I still do that. Pen and post ems by the bedside. Make note though...even though these thoughts come to you while dreaming, the brain also says is it noteworthy? If not sleep on . YarnSpinner
  6. YarnSpinner

    White Powder Sugar

    Believe me Tinker, unless you have at one time or other swallowed Cornstarch by choice or by accident, You have one H--- of a time drawing even a short breath. Not only did I get a severe warning about not listening to my parents, my guardian angel decided it was time to step in. He did just enough , but remained in control of the procedure. Do I have a guardian angel. You can bet on it. I do not profess to be a christian, but I made a list of instances that indicate I should not be discussing this subject now, if it were not for him/her/it. YarnSpinner
  7. YarnSpinner

    lack of activity

    Tinker: One should never feel guilty about what they have not accomplished in life. Life is like picking flowers. We like what we see, thinking to ourselves...I'll choose that one. Thus we pick only the avenues (flowers of life) we prefer, and stay on a path which is favorable for us to accomplish. As far as comparing illness and hardships...we all have stumbling blocks. Some are more of a hindrance to our accomplishment than others. We learn from these stumbling blocks as you are well aware of. If our desire remains strong enough, we can still say "I'm satisfied with what I did do with my life." YarnSpinner
  8. YarnSpinner

    Answers to Unasked Questions

    Many questions I have wanted to ask and instead of going to Administrators, I have been reading the back log of old posts. It is time consuming, but I have enjoyed reading the thoughts, feelings, and words of comfort not concerning myself, but to other writers whose lives have had as many, if not more, "ups and downs" than an elevator. I'll poke my nose in wherever and make comments... even though many years have since past. I realize by doing so, these old posts come to the forefront again. There are a few writers now gone from this site, I would like to have known. Hopefully, if I'm around here long enough, I will say I made friends of others still active. I do want to start an Archive section of my poetry long since posted starting in 2015. I realize there may be some redundancy of what I am posting currently. I will also state, I have a habit of reworking poetry as far back as when I started writing in 1998. Bare with me if you come across some of them. YarnSpinner
  9. YarnSpinner

     My Feline Friend

    My Feline Friend Sitting outside on my window sill, peering at me from the night; His form is barely visible, yet, golden eyes glow from my light. His pink mouth opens, teeth flash white, a silent meow he emits; I blinked my eyes...he's suddenly gone, on the sill he no longer sits. I turn off the light, letting darkness rule, and retreat to my soft, warm bed; While I lay waiting for sleep to come, these thoughts passed through my head. "Where do you go my feline friend, during the night, on soft padded feet? I know you will return by morning light, to my door step...for me to greet.” Inside...you will be off to the kitchen, to a bowl of milk by the sink; Tasting it lightly, you will hunch down, and settle to a thirst-quenching drink. When the bowl is empty, you will stretch, then tip toe across the floor, To an oval rug by the big bay window, to perform your fur cleaning chore. For the rest of the day you’ll cat nap, in the warmth of Autumn sun glow. When night time shrouds the house again,out the door you will go. Where do you go my feline friend, during the night when everyone's asleep? Where in the nether world of darkness, on soft padded feet do you creep?" YarnSpinner
  10. YarnSpinner

    Daily Poem Challenge

    it's too long for here Tinker: see White Powder Sugar in Memory Poetry (Overflow) YarnSpinner
  11. YarnSpinner

    White Powder Sugar

    Having made it to adulthood, I’ve come to realize, corrective punishment can have a lasting effect, without a parent ever laying a hand on the child. It can be applied so quickly, and is much more efficient, than a spanking could be. White Powder Sugar When I was about four years old, my sweet tooth came alive. I craved 4XXXX Powder Sugar in many ways I could contrive. I would heap it on bread with butter, on pancakes with syrup no less, But the way I enjoyed it most of all, was heaped in a spoon I confess. Mom would scold me; best I give up my careless bliss. If I didn’t stop eating sugar, no good could come of this. I was hooked, I admit it, powder sugar tasted good. The yellow box was like a magnet; I ate much more than I should. I’d fill my craving mouth, with that delicious stuff, And tap lightly on my cheeks to create a cloud-like puff. It’s liquid sweetness trickled down, into my waiting throat, Barely reach my stomach, ‘ere I’d give it another coat. Mom decided it was best for me, to put the box up high, Above the sink, on a cupboard shelf, away from my searching eyes. When time enough had passed, she allowed me another treat. I would fill my mouth one more time, with sugar delicious and sweet. My brother who was older; and having more self control. Would fill a teaspoon just for me, and that’s all he would dole. No matter how I whined or begged, for another spoon of that stuff, He’d ignored me by saying, “You’ve already had enough.” But, he’d take a tablespoon, and fill it with heaping care, Maybe I was only four, but I knew that wasn’t fair. I complained, “that’s not right,” he’d said, “it’s ‘cause I’m bigger.” I said, “it’s ‘cause you’re just a pig, that’s the way I figure.” He put the box back on the shelf, and closed the cupboard door; As soon as he left the kitchen, my greedy mouth wanted more. I got myself a tablespoon; pushed a chair to the sink. If punishment could come from this, I didn’t take time to think. Scrambling up I opened the door; there were boxes on the shelf galore. I couldn’t read the names you know, after all I was only four. My thoughts were on powdered sugar, white powder I liked to eat. I took a yellow box from the shelf, envisioning a tasty treat. Scooping deeply with a tablespoon, careful not to spill one bit, I leaned over; crammed my mouth, encompassing the whole of it. My eyes bulged, my mouth went dry, I got what was coming for sure. That mouthful of white powder, was more than I bargained for. It swelled in there, glued to my tongue, this powder as white as snow. I tried hard to get rid of the stuff, it took a frightening time to go, Punishment occurs in mysterious ways; it certainly happened to me It wasn’t 4XXXX Powder Sugar; it was Cornstarch by ARGO, you see. YarnSpinner
  12. YarnSpinner

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Can't help it Tinker: Written many years ago. Bless You Cat crouched Mouse sneezed Cat pounced Appetite pleased. It’s Gone Our cat’s on the table by the gold fish bowl, Looking unconcerned as can be. How can he look so angelic I wonder. . . There’s no fish in the bowl...I can see. YarnSpinner
  13. YarnSpinner

    Time to Write a Poem

    I agree with you in your statement: "And yet,some still denyit ever happened. A very close family member came to this country as a deported person from Germany, in the 50s... and a survivor of WWll. Though old enough to have known of the atrocities that were carried out during the holocaust... To this day he refuses to believe it. In my mind, I have to believe that possibly this is a door he has locked in his mind, and threw away the key. I do not dwell upon it; all wounds have to heal. YarnSpinner
  14. YarnSpinner

    lack of activity

    YarnSpinner here... Judging from the last posts here...2016, much has slowed down. I for one have been a victim of, or maybe I should say I was caught up in the slow down of input to PMO. I enjoyed contacts with others. I believe the ability to write is one of the greatest freedoms a person can have. It cannot be totally eradicated by force... other than death. I think Tinker in April 1, 2016 was closer to the reason for a slow down period, with her statement; I quote; “Because some of us are getting older,” unquote. Yes...and getting older comes the scourge of illness that goes hand-in- glove, with age. I do not readily discuss my thoughts, or divulge my problems with others, but I will admit illness in this household has been a major factor, for my absence. Into this family of just my wife and I, has come a series of surgeries; a mastectomy and other painful disabilities that did not require surgery, but did prevent mobility. The necessary work load requiring two people has become the extra burden of one. This work load had another unexpected burden added when a family member came home to be with his mother, while she was in the process of recovery. Unknown by this child, a twin, nearly 60 years old; he was bringing with him a burden he did not know he was force to deal with....CANCER. What was a misfortune of two, became one more in a family of three. During nearly a three year period that he has been here, he had radiation treatments, chemo treatments, and finally, when it looked like it could be surgically slowed down, he had surgery. A colectomy...(portion of bowel with large polyp,) an adrenal gland removed (cancer contained within) and a Gallbladder with its many contents, was removed also. All were taken during the same surgery of six and one half hours. Come this May he should be considered “Clean” of CANCER. It wasn’t too long now since I learned my bout with Prostate Cancer which was surgically removed in 2002, was now on the move again. This time it only shows in the PSA blood work up, but cannot be located where it is active. It’s halfway up the scale of 10. Well I’ve blabbed enough...I can only say I have too many items on my plate to go without a fight. At Eighty-five I do not look for sympathy. I have sympathy only for those who have the ability to do something with their lives and/or express themselves in one form or other, but refuse to try. (1) A collectors guide book of Daisy Air Rifles and other manufactured air guns dating back to 1880s, which were researched and started in 2002. Over 300 plus air guns illustrated by drawings I created on my computers. I’ve worn out 7 already. (2) To print self copies of a book of antique and Classics autos, which I’ve drawn as illustrations. I’ve even begun to have several embossed on coffee mugs to sell at auto shows (3) I enjoy pyrography, and carving in Plaster-of-Paris. I started a plaque just before the Step-son came home and after nearly (3) years, it is now just a WIP (work in progress.) (4) I started an Epic Ballad in 1989, shortly after I joined a Writing Club. It has Twenty-five chapters, and requires much research to make it a document-fiction ballad. (5) Last of all I enjoy writing. Right now it is the only art form I can work at, on computer, and still be close enough to Momma, when she is in need of my service. I’ll try to find something to contribute to POM. It may not be on par with what is of the norm, but it’s still poetry to me. YarnSpinner
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