JIM'S LITTLE PHOTO AND POEM PLACE

My Trips

. . .

Vertical Traveler; Satellite Machine

" I traversed the world

From top to bottom

Then bottom to top

Beautiful scenery

Different every trip

Over and over

Circles round the world

The world circled too

Bulge in my belly

Camera through the hole

They send the photos

Back to headquarters

Big time spy am I "

. . .

- I'm writing for the poetry blog named "What's Going on". Here is the prompt: "For this prompt, write about things or ideas that remain the same despite life's events. We live in a world where even positive values seem to be temporary and time specific. But what is unchanging, what can we count on, or what do we hope is timeless or everlasting?"

Linked to

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

"Time of Covid"

"Ten situations for "Friday Writings"

associated with the COVID

1. Bad

2. Long COVID

3. A killer

4. Quarantine

5. Masks

6. Smell sense loss

7. Taste sense loss

8. Congestion

9. Medication

10. Contagious

(My poem is next below)

Time of COVID

Mrs J wasn't feeling well

That fateful day we're on our cruise

Seeking medicine she called in

The infirmary's man came

Thermometer and a test pouch

Temperature fine, blood pressure too

But the test pouch said COVID big

Grabbed her things she was whisked away

Next thing she knew room of her own

Quarentine and flu medicine

I, her husband, tested each day

Day five was told go to your room

Pack your things join your wife, COVID

Ten days it was then, lesser now

Cruise over landed South Hampton

Hotel room we'd finish our time

What now is on my mind? Let's see

Lost my taste, smell, some memory

Congestion still, won't go away

My wifey did better better than I

There is another man we talked

Talked with him before quarentined

He was sitting close to the stairs

We were close, did he get COVID??

. . .

- I am linked with Mary at "What's Going on " here: https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I am also linked with Friday Writings #200

where the "optional prompt will invite you to write something about, or including, the number 10. And/or write a 10-line poem or story". Rosemary Nissen-Wade is hosting at

https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2025/10/time-of-covid.html?m=1

And I linked with Lillian at dVerse,

. . . https://dversepoets.com/2025/10/23/open-link-night-and-dverse-live-from-boston/

...

Van Gogh's Grove

Van Gogh's Busy Grove

Asleep in Van Gogh's calm retreat

I was awakened by a course

and whisky pitted noise from tongue

'Twas making song recognized not

Children dancing to the burly

I wouldn't call it a dance song

A bed of fallen grapes beneath

Beneath it all their blanket spread

The grapes and rotted fallen leaves

Old newspapers soaked with brown mud

Tripping the children right and left

They blend with the leaves, mud, and goo

Up on the hill it was Van Gogh

Source of the music's horrid songs

Smiling as he played, children laughed

Dancing up the hill, song unknown

Gogh joined their fun, kid's song picked up

They didn't know he was famous

Then not the muddy kids painted

Easy, their mothers did complain

. . .

-

- We had an optional prompt but I am in the hospital as a patient so time did not allow me to write a new poem for here. I hope you like this rather new one instead.

- I am linked with Sumana Roy at "What's Going on" at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 who wanted us to showuse an artwork of your choice for your inspiration.

- I am also am linked with Rommy at "Friday Writings" 199 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

- The bottom Grove photo is the actual Grove as it looked for our visit in 2006.

. . .

October Month

.

October month I claim

Dibs on big the letter "O"

Precious month I was born

Little Sister as well

Years many years ago

They're more than some can count

Happy Halloween kids

Ninety-two Eighty-seven

We're glad to be alive

. . .

- I am linked with Magaly at https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2025/10/october-month.html?m=1 "Friday Writings" 198 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

My Little Sister

Our prompt for this week: " . . . we'll be asking you to write about your siblings … or the lack of them. Or about sisterhood or brotherhood in general."

My Little Sister

This is picture of my only sister, Lois. No brothers. Lois and her husband live in Iowa, we were visiting from Texas. We both grew up at our parent's farm home in Nebraska.

Lois is five years younger than me; we both are very old. Our health is about as good as very old folk can have, i.e. so-so.

I was the teasing brother, but we got along very well. She never teased me and mine of her were not mean, just a little bit ornery.

She has always so very nice to me. I remember when we didn't have indoor plumbing she would hold the flashlight for me getting to the outhouse which was out behind the chicken house.

My biggest trick and really fun for me was when Lois turned 65, I had hacked into her Yahoo e-mail account and sent (from her) everyone on her mailing list a notice and sob story that she wouldn't get very many cards for this momentous birth anniversary.

I don't have her password or the addresses anymore so this will have to do.

And her quit smoking tale has me involved. We were playing down by at our deep tree lined creek. I pulled out a cigarette, lighted it, took a puff and blew some smoke screens.

That sight of me enjoying it induced her to ask for one. I lighted it and handed it to her. She must have inhaled because she coughed, choked, and puked.

Her story now is that she has quit smoking the same day that she started. Then tells her experience.

. . .

- 263 words -- I am linked with Rosemary at "Friday Writings" 197 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Weary Days

Weary days, they induce

Induce restful night sleep

Sleep like a baby does

Head under the covers

Only nose and mouth out

Weary days, they are hard

Legs and feet pay a price

But appetites may grow

Dinner table looks great

Sit and rest those tired feet

Weary days not stopping

Stop when the whistle blows

Warm water wash those feet

Soak them a little while

Lift them high easy chair

Weary days get better

Rest has come to you, but

Gotta get back up now

Cook supper, tired hands

Though hungry mouths to feed

End of day pillow waits

Play with kids, watch TV

. . .

- I am linked with Susan at "What's Going on " here: https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Autumn, First School Week

Prompt of the week: "we’ll invite you to write poetry or prose inspired by Autumn (rituals, foods, colors, celebrations… or anything that makes autumn memorable and/or special)."

. . .

First Week of School

Autumn, first week of school

First of my school learning

First week with girls up close

All dressed up pretty like

I liked her, she liked me

Her daddy liked me too

My parents held me back

Back so that she'd have me

Me to make two students

Two students in her class

Come third grade she's not there

Daddy had pulled her out

A private school for her

. . .

- I am linked with Rommy at "Friday Writings" 196 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Note: This was my school, I am the boy in back, a 4th grader. My sister was the little girl in front near our teacher, she was a 1st grader, we did not have kindergarten. Four of us were cousins.

We lived a mile from the school and generally walked to and from school. The teacher borded with a farm couple living within walking distance, we had school regardless of the weather. On bad weather my father would have me unter a tarp in a trailer pulled by two horses.

. . .

Sunny Open Road

Open roads in the sunshine

Top-down carrier's ready

Ready for its sunlit ride

Tall green trees along the way

They wave at the passing cars

Happy to see passengers

Waving back and smiling wide

Thinking of sunburns tonight

. . .

- I am linked with "What's Going on " at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 -- This poem was to be written in the vein of Imagist Poetry. Short, eight lines encouraged and to be pointed.

- I tried. "to write a minimalist, small space poem focusing on a vivid, concrete and specific image that might convey a complex idea or emotion in a single moment. We need a direct language to describe this. It would be perfect if the poem stays within eight lines. "

Note: The car belongs to me, a registered Texas Antique Auto. It is a1998 Ford Mustang GT 4.6 Convertible that I bought as a retirement present for me from myself. I retired in 2001.

. . .

Petals on the Floor

Petals on the floor

Everywhere you looked

One was picked up not

a petal at all

'Twas papers were dropped

At the courthouse were

Papers place of rest

Like petals fallen

Fallen from their tree

Never used again

Petals making mulch

Papers mice nests

. . .

- I am linked with dVerse to write a 44 word poem, plus the title if there is one

Time is Scary

Reposted from my "me, old blogs never read, and . . . " blog

I'm a saver, meaning I don't throw things away. I just put stuff in boxes or sacks until I might want it again. That's what this site is all about. Disclaimer: Much here is not my original writing, a lot is humorous email I've been sent. I don't copy any jokes here from magazines or books. Please let me know if you know or are the original author by leaving a comment as such. I will check it out and delete the suspect article or give you credit if I can verify your claim. It's your call.

I wrote thils poem and it then to be posted. But then I didn't like it and didn't post. Saturday, June 26, 2021-- some of you will remember this one.

My (Our) Heading

Seeing another time is scary

Are we looking ahead or behind

Or to the left or to the right

Perhaps upwards or woefully down

I (we) see with the eyes and with the mind

What's with the eyes is generally real

But with my mind I cannot trust

There enters fear and emotions

Flavored by the other senses

Is it real or do I imagine

Life is complicated we must cope

Sleep and day dreams will give relief

Thinking of all this and more is too much

I'm giving in and will float with time

Doing that is hard if one must think

A third parameter enters in

My body's needs must be sustained

Here desires too play a part

These two are life's rudders and paddles

Stay on my pad of ice there's no brake

When the ice melts things will fastly change

Am I the dog who can swim to shore

Or the cat who hasn't learned to swim

Can there be a miracle to come

Surely one is needed else I die

_ _ _

- This is not a finished writing and I do not intend to finish. Somewhere in the process I lost track of my ending and then I couldn't get back to it fast or efficiently.

I have its replacement here,

https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2021/06/sunday-muse.html?m=1

It may not be much better.

. . .

- Photo prompt posted by Carrie Van Horn with The Sunday Muse #166, at http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/06/sunday-muse-166.html?m=1

- - . . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 195 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 -- We are to dig out an old poem we wrote. Didn't say it had to be posted

. . .

Labels: Animals, Poem, Sunday Muse, Syllabic Form

Written by Jim at 6/26/2021 01:54:00 PM

Snows not on the Windshield

. . .

Our drive to Missouri should should have been

unadventual in the back seat

Father was driving our Chevrolet

a 1934 black two door

Dad and Mom up front, two kids in back,

we were pulling a two wheel trailer

empty but would be full coming back

Dad would fill it with cedar fence posts.

The ride was fun for sister and me

She was two years old and I was six

But trouble came soon in Missouri

Rain started and it leaked through the roof

Sister climbed up front to be with Mom

but there was no place for me to go

A blanket got soaked and I was too

We were glad when Grandma's house got near

My grandparents were glad to see us

With five grandkids I was Grandma's fave

The other three lived in Oregon

Grandma had three kids of her own there

She took us to a fish hatchery

We had hamburgers to eat that trip

Jack, her son who was my age and I

Played mostly outside, toy trucks and cars

One time I was very peeved with Jack

He told his mom on me, "naughty me"

Told her I was playing with "my self"

She told him shame, don't be Tattletale

Going home, fence posts and all went well

I have never heard from my mother

Grandma's good 'bout telling our secret

(Note: We lived on a small share crop farm north of Omaha, Nebraska. My parents are buried there but I have moved to Texas now.)

. . .

- I am linked with "What's Going on " at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 -- This poem is posted for my experience of a road trip.. Go there to read others about cars and trips.

. . .

- Notes:

a. The "snow" here is related to our writing instructions for this week that involved cars and road trips.

b. My poem for today is true. My mother wasn't hard on me and may not have wanted to bring this up. Like she did when she found my cigarettes, took the cigarettes and left a note in my jeans pocket.

c. Grandmother here was just a few years older than my Mom. Grandpa was a widower and remarried a couple of years before my parents married. Then the started a new family.

. . .

Monet's Boat

Mr. Monet don't you fall

I like your boat hang on tight

Do you fish are you fishing

I'll come up closer and look

I'm not sure where you are now

It's not your pond that's for sure

Your pond is so much smaller

There I like walking your bridge

Mr. Monet could I ride

Ride in this your fishing boat

I would like that very much

I say thank you in advance

. . .

Note: We were in Monet's stomping place for several days, his garden near where he severed his ear

. . .

- I am linked with Merril D Smith at dVerse at https://dversepoets.com/author/merrildsmith/

- Merril's writing instructions are, "You may write an ekphrastic poem inspired by Claude Monet’s “The Studio Boat.” Your poem does not need to include anything about reflecting or reflections, but it can."

. . .

Tin Man and His Girlfriend

Tin Man seemed down in the dumps this morning. He was walking very slowly on the Yellow Brick Road, sniffling a little.

I called him, perking up he gladly came. "Mr. Tin what seems be the matter?" I asked. Gladly he answered: his girlfriend didn't seem herself, dumpy and quiet.

Let's get to the bottom. "How long have you two been dating?" 'Four months tomorrow," he muttered. "And what are you doing for her?" "Watch TV."

So I had him call, then to a fine restaurant; bring her flowers and box of her favorite chocolate candies.

Cheered up, he skipped, making the yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes moisten and brighten the yellow brick road.

Two days later walking hand in hand, they smiled as they passed, his finger and thumb waved to me a happy "All is fine, thank you sign."

. . .

- I am linked with Björn at dVerse, at https://dversepoets.com/2025/09/15/prosery-t-s-eliot-and-j-alfred-prufrock/ for the prompt lines, "The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes . . ." from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Elliot.

- Using Prose is to be this Prosery Monday and is not to be over 144 words. I have exactly 144 words here.

. . .

14 Words of Love

Our this week's optional prompt asks us to share 14 loving words, or words about love – any kind of love, for anyone or anything. If that doesn't give you enough scope for everything you'd like to say, you may create several stanzas of 14 words each."

. . .

With help of Ai google found

14 words of love for me

I'll try my best to wrap them all

With words of my own and Webster

All the time my precious sweetheart

Kiss on your cheek warm embrace

Old fashion love it works for us

Here are my words that I wil try:

Love, Ai gave my start from here

Agape, selfless puppy dog

AFFECTION, a little lighter

Adoration, Christmas tree kind

Devotion, only you Darling

Eros, comes as passionate love

LUDUS, playful love, pat your rear

Passion, my strong love relentless

Philautia, self-love, not my kind

Philia, friends love, old people

Pragma, committed, here to stay

Romance, see this in the movies

Storgē, familial love, touching

Warmth, cuddling, save for winter night

. . . Now my Darling, with all our kinds

We should marry, so will you please

(Shiver, shiver, are you ready?)

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 194 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

. . .

Grandma's house

I r

Ii

I remember my Grandma H

When she married her mother's word

You are boss of the house, who comes,

and who goes and all that's within

He is boss of the barn and more

All the animals and the wilds

The garden you will have a spot

Flowers and tasty vegetables

He will help harvesting your crop

And plowing the soil for next year

Pulling and hoeing weeds that grow

. . . All seemed to be going so well

Then after fifty years married

They celebrated open house

Invited friends from miles away

Grandpa installed a bar for friends

Grandma saw the bar and winced

Grandpa's friends came, bar in the barn.

. . .

- I am linked with "What's Going on " at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 -- This poem is posted for "Lady's Rights Day", Go there to read others about rifts.

- I am also linked with Sanaa at dVerse open house, https://dversepoets.com/2025/09/11/open-link-night-391-with-live-edition/

. . .

- Notes:

a. this is true and my grandfather did have to move his bar to the barn, his friends did meet down in the barn for drinks

b. I was born in this house.

. . .

Good Stuff

This week, we are invited to “tell us something good. We know the world is full of a lot of bad, at the moment. So, any good (even if tiny) would be great to read about."

. . .

Something good

Something good. Good to be shared

Something good. Good to be eaten

Something good. Good to be watched

Something good. Good to be listening to

Something good. Good to be stored

Something good. Good to be sold

Something good. Good to be smelled

Something good. Good to be remembered

Something good. Eight will be enough

Something good. You, or I, can think of more

Something good.

Something good. Now I found the real stuff:

Something good. Tell you my claim to fame

Something good. Chocolate is my fave

Something good. I watch college football

Something good. I listen to Willie Nelson sing

Well, I narrowed it down to the last four

Now I'll chip on them a bit and pick one

My claim to fame is only in my mind

In my mind and it'll stay just for me

Chocolate's wonderful, have some every day

Aways on a graham with meds, not time

College football on TV each weekend

But college football isn't 'til next week

That leave some Willie Nelson for tonight

Now where did I leave that old CD?

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 193 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

. . .

Can't Complain

(click on photo for larger view)

Good Evening All

Just a shorty

Bedtime's come and gone

Here to tell you

Lived a happy life

Had a few bumps

Bumps along the way

Father was mean

Boxed my ears for naught

First wife ran off

Fell for a student

Trust for women

'Twas gone for three years

Those were bad times

Doors opened for me

Rest was simple

Behind something good

I don't complain

Hitched fifty-two years

Best wife for me

Simple, beautiful

Open doors, used cars

New ones not called for

GI Bill was good

College, three degrees

Jobs as needed

Factory then service

There I learned a trade

Aerospace Engineer

Back to school

College after work

With law degree

I taught Business Law

Been retired, years

Twenty-six Mrs

Twenty-four mine

Golf and travel time

Now we are aged

Life's been good for us

. . .

I am liked with "dVerse" at

https://dversepoets.com/2025/09/02/poetics-tuesday-lifes-lemons-and-lemonade-making/

Three Word Invite

This week we are invited to write poetry or prose which explores (or includes) the following words: delulu, lewk, broligarchy.

. . .

This little guy greeted us as we came in or out our hotel in Guatemala. The link below will see him play. Remembering our three words is as hard as teaching them to monkeys.

https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-little-monkey-friend.html?m=1

Three Little Words

A little "list poem" for you today

My list is short, just three little words

Three little words that I never knew

Never knew before, how about you?

My Words for You

Google knows a lot I gave it try

These words are old, K-pop fans abriev

My talk will never use, silly words

Here goes my list, google copied stuff

1. delulu, a slang term, short for "delusional," and is used to describe someone who holds unrealistic, overly optimistic beliefs or fantasies, often with a playful or self-aware tone.

2. lewk, a slang term, a deliberately stylized spelling of "look," that describes a distinctive, carefully curated, and often impressive fashion or personal style.

3. broligarchy, it involves a small group of wealthy men who are not elected but wield significant power over government and society.

Well now you know three more silly words

'Nough to be a starter, mess your brain

May slip away, but no one will cry

. . .

- I am linked with Magaly at "Friday Writings" 192 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

. . .

Rifts

What do I smell

I smell a rift a'coming

Little boy holding his pants

Small in size he isn't big

Hasn't learned line etiquette

Standing aside folks don't know

They think various of him

Perhaps his mama's in one

in there and using the lew

Or she is counting the flow

Could he be lost in the out

Out houses don't talk to ask

Yes, yes he is that I'm sure

Little boy could you be lost

Or is your mama inside

Every one rushing, pushing

That's the case, I'll get you in 😏

. . .

- I am linked with "What's Going on " at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 . Go there to read others about rifts.

Old Hat

Click on picture for larger viewing

That Old Hat

That old hat had belonged

Belonged to someone sad

Sad because the hat was . . .

Well the old hat was lost

Lost and left in the church

Wedding's over I took

A sad hat, took it with

I would never wear it

Not a goof hat like this

My sister told me scoop

The hat had been there long

Hadn't been claimed, dunno

That was license for me

For that hat I had plans

"Don't tell Sis, my Secret"

"When we leave leave it there

On her hanger in back

Low too where she won't see "

Will she tell what she did

Surprise, surprise for her

Then mail surprise for me

A package in the mail

From mysister, that hat

Kept a day, sent it back

Back and forth that hat went

Don't know where it is now

Who has it, we don't know

. . .

- I am linked with Mary at "Whats Going On", she wants for us to tell her our head gear story.

- Same story, earlier and more details here: https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2013/12/six-word-saturday.html?m=0

. . .

Spilled Beans

Who's Spilling the Beans

'Twas our little secret

No one was to know, awk

Every one on the street

Now they all are talking

Talking bout you and me

Nasty sole he, she, told

Who's spilling the beans

We know one of you

Again now, once more spilled

Who's spilling the beans

We want this to stop, NOW

Secrets ours, OURS ALONE!

Who's spilling the beans

One more time better not

I'll tell y'all's mother

. . .

- I am linked at dVerse with directions to write an Ubi Sunt poem; Laura is today's host of our "Meeting the Bar Tursday, https://dversepoets.com/ (dated August 21, 2025)

. . .

Go or Not Go

A Big Decision Made

I'm standing on the side

Beckons side of my bed

Back to bed or stay up

Small dilemma beckons

I'm soothing the bed bar

The bar put there for me

Saves from another fall

Day I couldn't get up

She, my wife called some friends

Four o'clock, morning called

Laying on the floor stuck

Two came and pulled me up

Looking now at the bar

Partner, wife still asleep

Quick decision, bed called

Back in bed, only eight

Small pillow 'tween my knees

Covers over my head

Hope soon I'll be snoring

. . .

(Note: This is true, the reason I could not get up is that I cannot get on my knees, never crawl again is that both kneecaps have been broken and didnot heal, onlyCalcified. )

. . .

- I am linked with Melissa at dVerse with directions to write from I was and go from there. https://dversepoets.com/ (dated August 20, 2025)

..

Tin Man Troubles

Tin Man's Problem

Tin Man had troubles. Rust was beginning to form on his limbs, all four. Being a gardener of kind he turned to me for help. Caught me on Saturday's visit to the city garden, famed Yellow Brick Road checking my shopping list. I remembered my mother helping grandmother with the same problem only much worse, the elderly lady was cured of the rust in six days.

Mother used her secret concoction, squeeze the juices in equal amounts. Ingredients were simple, all from my garden. One fourth pint of each, mothers song, “The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape.” Now five pints of sticky-like green, his rust should go away the second week of dally applications.

Bless my mother's green thumb, her home remedy medicine worked with Tin Man, his rust was gone the second week.

. . .

- I am linked with Sanaa at dVerse, at https://dversepoets.com/2025/08/18/prosery-yvors-time-and-the-garden/ for the prompt lines, "The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape.” ( From the poem “Time and the Garden.” )

- Using Prose is to be this Prosery Monday and is not to be over 144 words. Mine is 144 words.

. . .

Tiny Beauty (Found)

This week, our optional prompt is asking us to write on something small but beautiful. I chose the tiny fruit fly.

. . .

Battle of Giants Not

My battle with the fruit fly

Pretty, tiny, stealthy bug

But I smacked him good just now

He landed on a white place

Bottom of my coffee cup

Down side up from yesterday

The little buggers like white

They'll settle bravely and search

Search for what, must be some food

Most times futtle smack attempts

The smack comes a bit too late

Stinging hand's only damage

Or the imp was squashed to ooze

This time dreadfully different

Unknowingly a hero

Life donated for my poem.

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 191 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --- getting the prompt there, it has links readers can use to read the other Writer's efforts.

. . .

Didn't Croak

Didn't Do

Letter of missing the boat

My boat was based on the list

List of things I hadn't done

I did them all, I'm still here

You were with me all the time

They were saying we're "like twins

Joined at the hip, used his list"

Now we must each make our own

We didn't croak pity us

Theres not much to look for now

82 countries I've been

Raised five children countless grands

Getting to be time to croak

Perhaps I will this summer

To you Happy Summerween

I'm the older, love you more

. . .

- I am linked for this weeks prompt at What's Going On

- I am also liked with "Friday Writings" 190 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

. . .

Be My

My Bod

I have but one body

Or can you find some more

nobody's somebody

Anybody might care

especially Mrs.

Peabody's big girl

She was my Valentine

Mrs. Peabody's daughter

_ _ _

.

- I am linked with Rosemary for Friday Writing #126 at (now 189)

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

where

.

. . Rosemary has asked us to write a poem or story (or a few) in only 160 characters including title and spaces. (If you choose to write more than one, please put them all in one post and make sure that collectively they don't exceed our 369 word limit.)

. . A flop I'll try again. (You might figure I've improved)

My Woods Walk

Introduction to the poem

Written by a man who has no close friends

Grew up on a farm closest was his dog

(Married now he and wife joined at the hip)

Morning's Rising

The woods were mine that morning

Mine and the birds all around

Adi my Beagle stayed home

'Twas way to cold for her

Birds were singing all around

Mocking bird returned my call

"Who cooks for you" was my call

"Who cooks for you" its return

A little squirrel jumped down

Came after some nuts I'd thrown

Quickly it had company

Quickly all the nuts were gone

Bread crumbs for the rabbits

They timidly watching me

Softly, quietly they came

Bigger pieces they ate first

Gray Wolf on the hill howled

He howled to those down below

Famous art seemed to have known

Posed like the one on my wall

Early morning had brightened

Peaking over horizon

Timidly the sun came up

It was time to feed my dog

. . .

- I am linked with Lillian at dVerse https://dversepoets.com/

- I am also linked for Susan's prompt at What's Going On - a Weekend with Friends

Hurts

Photo of Author's Knee Scars; Two Kneecap Replacement Surgeries

. . .

Hurts Remembered

Scratches and scars

On my belly

and on my mind

They come, some stay

Most forgotten

"How it got there,"

That is the clue

Mostly the hurt

Hurts of the mind

Some always stay

And don't you say,

"I ain't got none"

Sometimes of those

Keep to your self

Those silent hurts

And inborn tears

Also my scalp

Bicycle ride

Under tin roof

They're a bad match

Chunk of my scalp

Left for the birds

Scars of both kinds

They're remembered.

. . .

- I am am linked with "Friday Writings" 188 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

- This week, we were invitedy to find a scar on your body (or in your mind/heart), and write poetry or prose inspired by it (how it happened, how it makes you feel, what it means to you...). If you don’t have any scars (hey, it could happen!), then find inspiration in the concept of scars.

- Except for the scar on my head, where I cannot see it, there aren't any more. My picture is a vein popping out to the surface. It doesn't hurt, and won't go away, doesn't bother me, any grudge I have nourished is under the rug.

Not too bad for an old man, 92 come October's end. A cruise perhaps. Aging is getting some blame for helping COVID's leavings, taste, smell, balance, memorie's forgetfulness, . . .

. . .

Love Poem Ode ❤

All My Love

My heart went pitty patty that day I saw

I knew certainly you were cut out for me

Seems you saw me too I felt the earth shaking

Beauty did I dream

I'd seen the likes of you strolling on the street

Alone except for your mate what would he say

Perhaps he'd like a newer lass for the street

You could stroll with me.

Well, I bought you, dear Mustang GT 4.6

Convertible retirement present for me.

Now we cruise the streets together way we stroll

Consummate our love

. . .

- Photo is of my retirement present from myself to me. A 1998 Mustang I bought in 2000 and retired in 2001. I've had her, loved her ever since. The dog is Adi, my loving Beagle. We were a registered Pet Therapy Pair, Alzheiimer's residents loved us to visit.

- I am am linked with "Friday Writings" 187 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --

- This week, we were asked to write a poem of celebration, whether of a person, a thing, an event… Optional extra: do it in the form of a Sapphic ode.

- I did write in Sapphic ode. The verses have four lines, the first three have eleven syllables, the fourth is with five syllables. These are often used in writing love poems.

In Uncertain Times

Resignation

Resignation, it's a word I never knew

Never knew, does that word now raise its mean head

Troubles ahead peaking around the corner

See THEIR ugly heads

Start with Mother Nature and her Climate Change

Papa Politic make up his mind he can't

Aunts and Uncles are dabbling Economy

Makes the Preachers swear

And others are nuzzling in should we resign

Then give up hope, dig our graves, find our shotguns

Not for me I'll wait and see if Better looms

Things change and adapt

. . .

- I am linked with Mary at WHAT'S GOING ON, https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/

- Come see and click other's names, they link to that person's write.

- I wrote here tonight using Sapphic Ode form. I like it. Three eleven syllable lines then one with five syllables.

JIM'S LITTLE PHOTO AND POEM PLACE

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

My Trips

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

"Time of Covid"

Wednesday, October 15, 2025

Van Gogh's Grove

October Month

Wednesday, October 01, 2025

My Little Sister

Weary Days

Thursday, September 25, 2025

Autumn, First School Week

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Sunny Open Road

Tuesday, September 23, 2025

Thursday, September 18, 2025

Time is Scary

Wednesday, September 17, 2025

Snows not on the Windshield

Tuesday, September 16, 2025

Monet's Boat

Monday, September 15, 2025

Tin Man and His Girlfriend

Thursday, September 11, 2025

14 Words of Love

Grandma's house

Thursday, September 04, 2025

Good Stuff

Wednesday, September 03, 2025

Can't Complain

Thursday, August 28, 2025

Three Word Invite

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

Rifts

Friday, August 22, 2025

Old Hat

Thursday, August 21, 2025

Spilled Beans

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Go or Not Go

Monday, August 18, 2025

Tin Man Troubles

Sunday, August 17, 2025

Tiny Beauty (Found)

Thursday, August 14, 2025

Didn't Croak

Friday, August 08, 2025

Be My

Wednesday, August 06, 2025

My Woods Walk

Thursday, July 31, 2025

Hurts

Thursday, July 24, 2025

Love Poem Ode ❤

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

In Uncertain Times

About Me

My life, creed, and ambition

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