Places that Heal, a Poem for Saturday

A man's retreat must have wheels

The day before had been hard
He strapped on his helmet, it
signaled his path to freedom
Two wheels, point 125
liter powered his Vespa

The path to Old Mexico
was beckoning him that day
He'd forget troubles at home
hard with four kids and a wife
These two were but kids themselves

Customs passed over the Bridge
Around town, sunny Juarez
Dogs bid him ado ever
so often one would growl
Women doing the clothes line

They all waved or barked, could they
remember him from last month
Open road, breeze in his face
Passing shanties kids and dogs
Could they be as free as he

Come evening he'd be back home
The kids would hug him tight, glad
Mom, she would shrug, "Supper's done,"
"Glad you were free for the day,
you work hard and need relief"

Fifty years later retired
Old Mustang treated, top down
Toward the beach they went, speeding
The pony played that bright day
Fifty to a hundred ten

Seems both needed some relief
Mustangs should not be confined
Clear their lungs, treat their Old Man
Up and down the sandy beach
She loved the sand in her skirts

Come evening they'd head for home
Love each other as they could
He was her second owner
As was his wife of him, let
out to pasture just one day
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.

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 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov Photos 2010 (link) and 2013 (link),  Poem 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Sherry Blue Sky in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/11/wordy-saturday-with-wild-woman-places.html
 - Top picture, http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2010/11/national-motorcycle-museum-midweek.html
 - Bottom picture, http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2013/08/six-word-saturday_30.html

an Acrostic Poem for this November Tuesday Morning

N o v e m b e r    M o r n i n g s;
     (an Acrostic Poem)

November mornings crispy cool
Oven-like heat of summer's gone
Venture onto the leaf strewn path
Early morning leaves wet with dew
Morning sun on those still clinging
Brings bright pearls of dew drops hanging
Each yellow velvet scrap adorned
Rustling in the leaves squirrels enjoy

Morning air breathe in fresh and cool
Out we exhale to see our breath
Racoons are up in the attics
Nesting there and having babies
Ice on ponds beginning to form
Near the edges some stays all day
Green evergreens keep their colour
(Darkness is early and stays late)
Snowy December's coming near
 _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2009, All Rights Reserved  (originally posted 2009 [link] this was of Adi, my Beagle dog, now deceased [link])
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/11/the-tuesday-platform.html?m=1

a Flash 55 'poem' for you

Love hate relationship

When I'm hot she is cold

She is rich I work hard (15)

Last night I had a dream

Wrestled my head from her

Herod's daughter had asked

For it on a platter (20)

Silver platter it was

Though now I have them both

my head and the prized plate

Dreamt relation should end (20)

_ _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - Photo is a PrntScr copy from Kelly's post, see link below

 - For inspiration I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/11/camera-flash-55.html .  Kerry would like to see 55 Words poems, making it a Flash 55 Poem.  This one is exactly 55 words (my count is in brackets at verse endings.

 - By writing this 'poem' I am also helping to send our love and support to Hedgewitch, during her time off from hosting (instructions were in Kerry's post linked above.

Where I am ~~ Saturday Poem

  Count the keys on this LARGE PRINT typewriter pictured above.
Please also note that it is a manual and not electric.

Where am I

Like a celebrity I've been asked to tell

where and what I do when I write

So tell you what, it isn't always easy

Its mostly where I be or there at the

breakfast room table. Lots of variations

and iterations to tell here.

This I'm wriing sitting in my recliner

Also watching. Houston my alma mater on TV

They're playing football, slightly ahead

Yesterday I wrote at midnight on the edge of

my bed. TV was on with "Murder she wrote"

Come morning I prettied it up at the table

Other times I just post what I wrote then

and there, at church, riding in the car, or

out on the porch. Later pretty plus picture

Not real exciting or emotional here, just it

Let you know how my team does, still ahead

_ _ _ _

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2012 (link) and 2018, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with Toni Spencer in the Imaginary Garden at https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/dont-touch-my-meez.html?m=1

A scary (??) Poem for Friday

To the man in my garage

Dear man in my garage,

You scared the Bejesus

Right out of me

The first time I noticed

Hardly did I give

it a second thought

Come morning though the light

was on, I thought it me and

had left it on night before

But then I wondered if

You'd sneaked in during the day

when I'd left the door open

And I worried a bit

so left kitchen door locked

The second day the light

was on for no reason

During the day I heard

noises from the garage

I dared not go there

I didn't tell a soul

Dear man in my garage

Why did you come

Did you mean to scare me so

You scared the Bejesus

Right out of me

Raining and cold

I don't blame you one bit

But why'd you stay

Warmer in there but

not one bite to eat or drink

Again the third day

Come morning the light was on

I'd checked it the night before

Off

Had it with you

But didn't tell a soul

Scared

About two I went around

to the front, quietly opened

the door and then ran

Like Hell back in the house

'Cause I had the Bejesus

scared out of me

Dear man in the garage

I hoped and prayed all day

That you'd take the hint

and run far away

And if you went you'd go to stay

That night I shut the door

made sure the light was off

And prayed again that you'd gone

Come morning when I checked

the light out there was off

Now man in my garage,

please don't come back any more

For sure you scared the Bejesus

Right out of me

Still haven't told a soul 
 _ _ _ _ 

Hit the road Jack (lyrics)

_ _ _ _

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Isadora Gruye in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/creature-feature-out-of-standard.html?m=1
 - Bejesus:  definition (2nd), "—used as a noun for emphasis scares the bejesus out of me."  Merriam-Webster (Google Search)

A Poem for Thursday -- October Wind

 

October Wind 

October wind swirling 

Leaves, red yellow and brown 

Valiant, colour classic 

They try to follow wind 
.

Despair displayed they fall 

Plunging, gutter awaits 

Branches cry, murmuring 

Not what they were born for 

.

Comes new day new tenants 

Little girls with dried sticks 
Write notes in the gravel 

Here lie trees' brave soldiers 

Their struggle not in vain 

Winter home for squirrels 

 _ _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved 
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/get-listed-october-edition.html?m=1  -
The writer (me) was to use four of these words, I chose five:

• lucid                    fiery                  twilight               silhouette                     despair
• touch                   plunge                frost                   goldcrest                      wind
• sleep                   colour                 aspect                murmuring                   coffee
• gravel                  leaf                    october                branch                          notes

an unusual Fish Story, true I say

Betsy lives in a tree

My fish lives in a tree

Not the way I would choose

She's a mind of her own

Tell you about my fish

Her name is Betsy Dear

Gave to me by Kellie

my youngest granddaughter

Betsy was hers at first

Misses and she found her

In the pet store down there

at the end of our street

Shiny black Betta fish

Fairly cheap she came here

Betta fish are two or three

or five or ten dollars

Class you buy high or low

At first she had no tree

and slept in her sand box

Kind Misses bought her one

A small tree just her own

She sleeps and swims around

All day long doing that

Come morn I lift her hood

She stays in the tree

Lingers, finish her dream

Is she dead or alive

Soon she comes for her food

Breakfast Ala Água

Why does Betsy live here

It's her home and her tree

Over "there" with Kellie 

There's allergy to fish 

And her little secret
It's between her and me 

 _ _ _ _

 - Photos [click on one to make it larger] and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with  Vivian Zems  in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-tuesday-platform_16.html 

 - When I write in First Person hardly any of my poems are entirely true, generally they have some embellishment of facts all the way to being entirely fiction.  This one however, is entirely true except for our granddaughter's name.  On my blogs she is generally KP.

 - Betsy is in a small aquarium which I just cleaned yesterday, that is done once a week or more often.  The little people are antique Fisher Price "little people" that came with a toy.  Across the pond is another fellow from a MacDonald's Happy Meal, an orange haired fellow driving a ride his water vehicle of sorts.  Betsy spends time visiting with them but now she spends more time in her tree than visiting.
 - How to Play with Your Betta, a Betta Blogger post.



A Poem for Another "Fussy Little Form", the Tritina

Drifting where we mustn't go

Spining trees drifting mist wind gently blows 

Harder by midday trees lost in the mist 

Yet they hold their fruit squint against the wind 

We huddle cuddle against still cruel wind

Passion knows no end leaves around us blow

Blowing leaves midst of fruit juices we kissed 

Missed the mark ever turns to rain not mist  

Drifting where we mustn't go trees in wind

We pick our fruit before wind harder blows 

Where blows love's light mist to rain, a hard wind

 _ _ _ _ 

 - Photos and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2010, 2016 and 2018, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Marian in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/fussy-little-forms-tritina.html?m=1 

 - Marian presented the 'Tritina' poem to us. It is a three verse, three line each structure and ends with another line.  The first verse endings are 1,2,3 withe the following verses ending per the second and third lines of the chart below. The final line must contain the words,  1, 2, and 3 in that order. I cheated once, at least, and used one rhyming end word instead of repeating the correct word again.

1-2-3

3-1-2

2-3-1

- The birds are a part I cropped today from a Harbor Picture I took at the Harbor at La Serenta, Chile in 2016 while the tree photo was taken by me near Quebec City, Canada, in 2010.  I posted it that year, 2010 in a poem, "Joie de vivre [Joy of living] ", link.

A Bad Day's Morning Poem

I give up

It didn't happen today
Nothing at all went my way
My alarm didn't go off
Couldn't be rid of my cough
Breakfast eggs were way to hard
For me things weren't in the  cards

Optimistic back to bed
Right side out, fell on my head
Stiff neck, sprained wrist, bloody nose
Dog wanted out he'd arose
To bear all shower was cold
Called work, stay home I was told

I went back to bed again
Sleep till tomorrow begins
 _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-tuesday-platform.html?m=1

Our Mr. Locksmith ~~ an Acrostic Flash Poem

 www.wikiart.org/en/pierre-dubreuil/lines-meeting-1932

P I C K   A   L O C K

Pick a lock our Mr. Locksmith

Ice in your greedy veins

Cache of favored minerals

King's treasure trove

Awaits your deft hands

Listen to the tumblers' sweet fall

Open they will gladly give their command

Clicking like clockwork, chimes of silver and gold

Keep your bounty, souvenir of a good night's work

 _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor in the Imaginary Garden at  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/10/camera-flash-55.html?m=1
 - My Flash Poem has exactly the desired length of 55 words.
 - It also is an Acrostic, where the first letter of each line in progression is the corresponding letter of my title, i.e. P, I, C, K, A. L, O, C, and K.