Long Skeins Poems
Long Skeins Poems. Below are the most popular long Skeins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Skeins poems by poem length and keyword.
Alone, where winds had smoothed the cobblestone,
a young novice sat, solemn and austere,
brooding over mistakes made, seeds past sown.
Entering the abbey; a fate severe,
she wept with sadness when dismay had grown.
Praying, she cried, "In Your Word I abide."
Her soul ached; tears were silently falling.
"Strengthen my faith, Father. Be at my side.
Forgive my despair. This is my calling.
I know from You there's nothing I can hide."
Stark loneliness grew; hope quickly dwindled.
In solitude her days would reach their end.
Then came enlightenment. Faith rekindled
in whispers to her as angels descend.
She dropped skeins of yarn, carefully spindled.
Down on penitent knees she bent and bowed.
"Forgive my apathy. I've been a fool
to hesitate, Father, for I have vowed
my humble life to serve beneath Your rule."
With an overjoyed heart, she spoke aloud.
I’m the Seller of Rainbows
Purveyor of such Delights
Adding joy and pleasure to
So many Rituals and Rites.
Sliding through the portals
In connected webs of space
Physically always staying
In the very same place.
Just changing perceptions
Of the merged multiverse
Carrying skeins of Rainbows
In states many and diverse.
Never truly certain which
Would be the preferred form
In this current version
Of any perceived norm.
Aurals and Orals, Tangibles,
And the latest sensory flows
All to be added to traditional
Seven coloured visual shows
Keeping all the Workshops
Working at a breakneck speed
To fulfil the mass of orders that
Help to meet the constant need
For the Rainbows of Nirvana
That bring delight and pleasure
To the many forms of beings
To their many forms of leisure.
The Workshops of Nirvana
In such a convenient place
At the Centre of the Universe,
Confluence of Time and Space.
Grandma Lulu loved to knit.
She was the knitting queen.
She has been doing this for ninety years.
Click. Click. Click. Click.Click.
She lived in a house full of yarns.
Baby yarns, skinny yarns, fluffy yarns, shiny yarns.
Yarns of many colors, light yarns, dark yarns, balls and skeins.
Knit purl purl knit; knit purl, purl, knit.
For Christmas we relatives got slippers.
Blue, yellow, orange, red, green, gray slippers.
Our babies got knitted layette sets.
Click. Click. Click. Click.Click.
She also created knitted Christmas ornaments.
Penguins, socks, or ruffled candy canes.
If you visited her, she never looked up.
You heard the constant click of her knitting needles.
The first thing we noticed after her funeral
Was the sad silence of her house; no longer a home.
'Tis often said that the best things in life are free.
Open your eyes and keen those ears and I think you would agree!
When Old Sol gilds the eastern skies then settles in the west,
We're awed by the Master's Artistry and we are truly blessed!
Note the magnificence of a rainbow arching across the sky;
In the ebon universe, the celestial bodies silently passing by.
The sight of skeins of geese winging their way to points unknown;
The sound of soughing winds through the pines so stately grown!
Dew drops on crimson roses at dawn that grace a pristine lawn;
The gamboling nigh yon copse of a graceful doe and her fawn.
Hear the laughter of little children cavorting in the park,
And the cheery song in the lea of a very contented meadow lark!
Sounds of water playing its hymn rushing o'er stones in a stream;
The sight of a majestic eagle soaring high and its clarion scream!
Mountains reaching for the sky are a magnificent sight to behold;
In the autumn, the trees all cloaked in crimson, yellow and gold!
Herds of buffalo and sleek antelope grazing on the rolling plain;
Awesome displays of lightning to be seen during a pouring rain.
There are so many things that are free, too many to really measure,
That don't cost a cent if we'd only take the time for them to treasure!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
The autumn winds are rattlin' the leaves of corn stalks in the fields.
The corn has been harvested and the farmers are calculatin' their yields.
Golden, yellow and crimson leaves are strewn along the country lane.
Autumn! What a glorious season! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Mornin' frosts spread a coat of icin' atop every corpulent punkin'.
Jolly kiddies gather at parties for an old-fashioned apple-dunkin'!
Skeins of geese are wingin' south with their cousins the Whoopin' Crane.
Autumn! What a resplendent season! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
The branches of apple trees bend low bearing luscious apples galore,
Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Rome Beauty and so many more,
Waitin' to be plucked from California's shore to the rocky coast of Maine!
Autumn! What magnificent splendor! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Ah! To lounge by the fire and enjoy popcorn and cider when the snow flies,
And at Thanksgiving to gather with family to savor Grandma's apple pies!
Jars of apple sauce and apple butter line larder shelves, the winter to sustain!
Autumn! The most delightful season of all! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Alas, I won't be pickin' apples from my one and only apple tree this fall!
Sneaky worms, hordes of squirrels and birds have eaten them one and all!
The way those varmints robbed me of my apple crop is a downright crime!
But despite it all, I still cherish autumn 'cause its apple pickin' time!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
(Not for the contest)
silken threads bind
the tree of life,
skeins of hope
tying all
deep into the soul
of the earth
but,
the dirt trembles and shakes
big minds wander
the lost halls of learning
they go where others
dare not tread,
risking all
with each step
tremendous machines
chew through the skin
of the planet
ripping and shredding
the life out of Gaia,
she is dying
a day at a time
Great leaders in denial
lead their people
towards a precipice,
all the time
their eyes are closed
hoping like fools
their delusions
aren't their downfall
like lemmings
a blinded society
technologically
numbed
are blinkered,
the mountains
begin to tumble
as the rivers
ease their flow
the grass browns
as the days burn hot
killing the elderly
sickening the child,
the air burns throats
and lungs
as industry
churns out poison
waters run with blood
buildings fall
into the chasm
all the while the answer
lies within
a seed of hope
is carried in the atoms
that hold us all together,
wind the silken thread
around this pearl
saving all that ever was
Autumn approached about a week ago as stealthily as a fox!
The corn has been shucked and the golden fodder stands in shocks.
Luscious apples have been plucked from every supple bough.
Sweet-scented alfalfa for the cattle has been stowed in the mow.
In yon woods the trees wear robes of brilliant yellows and reds.
Excited children have been burnishing the runners on their sleds!
The rasp of crosscut saws resounds from yonder oak tree grove,
As many cords of wood are sawn for the parlor heating stove!
Skeins of majestic geese grace the sky in their southward wing.
We'll miss their haunting cries but they'll return again come spring.
Cellar bins bulge with onions, punkins and sweet pertaters.
Shelves groan 'neath jars of corn, beans and beefsteak termaters!
Tom Turkey is being fattened up completely oblivious of his fate.
Unbeknownst to that strutting dude, he has a portentous dinner date!
Squirrels scurry about collecting nuts with vigorous animation,
Hiding them hither and yon about my lawn for later exhumation!
Wafting leaves weave a carpet of gold and scarlet upon the lawn.
The rising sun tinted the first snow on the mountain's crest at dawn.
Vagabond zephyrs that now gently shove the lifeless leaves around,
Anon, will become shrieking gales piling drifts of snow upon the ground!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A brilliant moon casts its mellow glow,
O'er fields covered with glistening snow!
Skeins of geese fly on high silhouetted 'gainst the moon;
The scene is all set for a sleigh ride, so very opportune!
The sleigh has been shed of a years build-up of dust,
And its runners have been waxed, a requisite must!
Dashing Dan was harnessed with jingly bells of course;
For generations he's drawn the sleigh, this gentle and faithful horse!
Mom, Dad and the kids snuggle 'neath quilts warm and snug;
"Giddy up" says Dad and Dan leaps forward with a gentle tug!
They sing 'Jingle Bells' and other Yuletide tunes with joy;
Dad reminisces about sleigh rides with his Grandpa as a boy!
They sip mugs of warm cider and coffee to ward off the chill,
Hailing others with 'Merry Christmas', wishing them goodwill!
Arriving home and after Dan was stabled and the sleigh was stowed,
They sip cocoa nigh the hearth to warm up from the cold!
Precious memories were met this night for future family lore,
As they anticipate next year's moonlight sleigh ride once more.
Entry for Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - Write A Christmas Poem" Contest
25 November 2022
I like to watch skeins of geese flying in the autumn sky,
And I like the smell of frying bacon and luscious cherry pie!
I like to see the sun tinting Pikes Peak's crown in the early morn,
And the glorious Colorado sky as the sun ends its daily bourne!
I like to feel the tug of a rainbow trout on my fishing line,
And graceful garlands of snow adorning a ponderosa pine!
I like quiet evenings with my spouse nigh a warm and glowing fire,
Where we reminisce and dream of things for which we would aspire!
I like family reunions with my kids, grandkids, uncles and aunts,
And this may sound curious, but I like sharp creases in my pants!
I like to sit on the patio to muse and watch the squirrels at play,
And I like to go to church for inspiration, fellowship and to pray!
I like to listen to classical music or bury my nose in fascinating book,
And take leisurely evening strolls along a rushing mountain brook!
I like ice cream, tater chips, meatloaf, Brussels sprouts and chicken fried,
And I like the American flag that I shall always salute with pride!
I like it when the Denver Broncos and the Colorado Rockies win!
(But, alas, neither team is doing that well, much to my chagrin!)
I like to hear the rolling thunder and rain gently falling on my roof,
And the rhythmic clip-clop upon the pavement of a horse's hoof!
I like barbeques and fireworks in the park on Independence Day,
And the mulitude of stars winking at me from the Milky Way!
I like the smell of roses and the rejuvenation of April showers,
And I like work - I can sit and watch it for hours and hours!
I like the charm and beauty of a little child's beguiling grin.
I like Laurel and Hardy and Jack Benny with his squawking violin!
I like to socialize with folks with can-do attitudes and high ambitions!
(I like most everything I reckon, 'cept sloven schmucks and politicians!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
my finest moments are littered
with broken pieces of twilight,
and Crucifixion silenced
my hall of soul and light
but as the first moment
after the chaos of a storm,
light returned to filigree
and bewitch me every morn
my illumination came
with skeins of pain and pride,
and yonder on the windowsill
my hide is tanned and dyed
Ive wandered off the path
and traveled terrain for goats,
I waded through the mud
and around a castles moats
my walkabouts have taken me
to places far and wide,
but deep within my being
each cell is wattle lined
my ills and pains are eased
when I look just out the door,
and gum trees stay a swaying
and leaves do dance the floor
and endeavoring to fill
the hole that scars in part,
I bend and pick up red dust
its the essence of my heart