"You can" -- A Happy Poem for Tuesday Platform

You can make me happy

 

You can make me happy

Happy all the day  

So goes the songs of old

Before Rock began

 

I'm still singing that song

I sing it to you  

It always makes you smile

I love your sweet smile

 

Your smile reminds me too

That you love me lots  

And when I'm all alone

Sing it to myself

 

It keeps me thinking straight

Through years love endured  

How very much we

love each other still

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Top:  On  the beach, last post in the series here: 

 http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/search?q=beach

Middle:  Isle of Capri. Why do you say I'm lucky?  Lucky in Love, especially here:

http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2007/07/this-is-my-lucky-day-07-07-07-and-time.html

Bottom:  "You can make me happy..." I've carried it 43 plus years.  Still !!!

http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2014/02/our-41-anniversary-today.html 

Actually that song has been an ear bug for me for a long, long time

(and this one)

("I'm gonna love you for a long, long time")

_ _ _ _

 

 - Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - Photos also but at the dates of the respective blogs posted above 

 - I'm linked with  Kerry O'Connor, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform,  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform_15.html
 - Her theme was "Happiness"

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Saturday Challenge Poem

Close the door;
you're letting the air conditioning out

Close the door, you're letting the air conditioning out

I need someone to talk to. With if you see fit so to do

 

I worry about things that I can't change
Maybe this happens with you as well.  Well? 

 

Not like the price of crude oil from Russia 

But more like escalation all around
 

Or the climate changing  melt the icebergs
Forest fires, drought, flooding right and left  
 

I could go on but what is to be gained 
Time will tell and I won't be here to know

 

It's cooled in here again, thanks for coming

Should I worry, what say you about this?  

      [click on picture to make it larger - click again for larger still]

_ _ _ _ _
.. - This is not me speaking in this poem.  It was directed by my muse who was down.   
 . . . Photo and Poem Copyright © 2016 and 2017, respectively, Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
. - I'm linked with Magaly Guerrero  for the Weekend Mini-Challenge in The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/weekend-mini-challenge-out-of-your-own.html  I wrote this one especially for today's posting. It is supposed to be "mini", mine is not exactly that having 163 words. 
. - The animal picture was taken at the Vauxhall City Farm, at Vauxhall, Borough of Lambeth, London, U.K. (visit it here).  For more animals found at our visit you can go here.

 . - Magaly wants us to resurrect a few word from a previous work and write again with them in a new poem.  I picked these beginning two lines for my beginning two here:

"Close the door, you're letting the air conditioning out
I need someone to talk to. With if you see fit so to do"

found here:http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2016/09/adi-is-gone-we-miss-her-poem_16.html

Reminiscing, a poem for today, Dad and me

I went with my dad

I went with my dad, I was very young

Only Dad and me, just the two of us 

We sat at a booth there by the window

Patched sidewalk outside, thought nothing of it 

Now I'd like to peek, in from that sidewalk

Seeing what went on back then in that place

Ladies serving drinks, think root beer for us

Men and boys no girls that I remember   

Were we joined by some or sit there alone

Who else was in that room, smoky front room 

Did we eat as well, a sandwich would do

Baloney and cheese, could be liverwurst 

Wonder what was said, to us and we to them

Not one word do I remember hearing 

Surely I didn't  talk, a boy of six

I suppose that was my age or lower 

Whatever happened there in that old house

Does it happen still, some new endeavor 

We will never know answers to these thoughts

Walk down the sidewalk, peek, it's dark inside
_ _ _ _

Photo and Poem Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved  
Notes and photos: 
 - I'm linked with Isadora Gruye at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads;
 http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/writing-unseen.html
 - Izzy wants us for this Out of Standard Challenge to write a poem about something (we) can’t see fully.
 - I found this old house while in Washington, D.C, walking from the downtown area over to George Washington University.  It is older than the Civil War but I'm not sure now how old it is.

 - For sure we did stop for a drink in an old Main Street Café in Herman, Nebraska.  I didn't remember much and not even as much as I've told here.  The building has burned.

This is what is left of the building. For a non-poetic real truth version of my visit with Dad please see this previous post: http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2007/03/another-first-my-first-drink-in-public.html

Original Sin -- A flash poem for Tuesday morning

disobedience

 

Adam and Eve were lovers

Lovers bold first lovers old

We are told were way too bold

 

Old Snake, Satan, evil man

Appealed to Eve, "Have a bite"

"It's okay" (forbidden fruit)

 

The apples came tumbling down

So they ate until their fill

God rules, they'd disobeyed.  Out!

From the garden 
So are we
  _ _ _ _ _

Poem and Photos Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved 

Notes and photos: 

 - Photo is my screen print of Erte's "Adam and Eve" which is copied here "Fair use."  Erte was born in 1892 and died in 1990.  He was of French decent and born in Russia (Wikipedia Link).  Adam and Eve along with more of his works may be seen at https://www.wikiart.org/en/erte .

 

 - I'm Linked with Kerry O'Conner in The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, FLASH 55 PLUS!, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/flash-55-plus.html

This is a 55-word piece to meet Kerry's prompt.  She also challenged us to use a piece of Erte's art as inspiration.  This and the Bible prompted me to write the story of Adam and Eve in a 55 Word Flash Poem with Seven Syllables per line 'Syllabic Form'.

 

 - I'm (also) linked with Marian in The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform_8.html.  Marian posted there a lovely little poem by Emily Dickinson on Truth.  Mine today is a Bible truth.  Original Sin Wikipedia Link.

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"A Day to Come" ~~ a Poem for Tuesday Plarform

They tried to bury us deep 
They didn't know we were seeds 
In horror they watched us grow 

Grew to be pretty flowers 
and lovely weeds praising God 
Sunflowers, dandelions 

Ridiculed for who we were 
Race, color, and religion 
Gender, marriage, and more 

But we know their day is near 
Gnashing teeth and Hell's fire 
Hypocrites's retribution 
_ _ _ _

Poem Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved  

Notes and photos: 

I'm linked with Kerry O'Conner at
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform.html?m=1

Inspired by a poem posted on posters collaborated by Margaret and Gillena.  My first two lines contain the thought we read on the first poster, click the link above to read their poem. 

A poem for "A glance at narrative"

A man and his favorite pig 

Trudging along the long dry dirt road 
Scarred with ruts made by farmers 
On rainy days they were barely passable 
Almost tripped, him with shouldered pig 

The pig was his best friend but sell her
he must. Baby needs milk, Mom her fix
The pig had a suspicion something bad
to come from his friend. What to do, what

Their running away would be a cowardly
price one pays for freedom's ending love
... (to be continued)

Poem Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved  

Notes and photos: 

I'm linked with "Outlawyer" at
 http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/07/a-glance-at-narrative.html?m=1 

This will NOT be continued

A Sunday Mini Challenge weekend Poem for you

Putting on Airs*

 

We approached it with much trepidation
Might people think we were seeking some warmth

Would we be turned away at the grand door

Five bright welcome flags, U.S nonetheless

 

Heralded by the flags, still cool reception

Feelings of hidden microphones, cameras

Semblance of black armbands yet they wore none 

Greeters and Porters cold and stiff, no smiles

 

Said we came for coffee, tea and biscuits

The wait staff stood at parade rest, no smiles

No women help, men, order of the day

Ordered tea and scones, headed for the Lou

 

Lavatories in the Lou carved of stone

Carved of granite, golden faucets gleaming

High formal beaming like a British Lou  

A hundred plus years of age was it all

 

Goodbye doorman at the Lou standing tall

Meandered back inspecting fine fixtures

Of this most expensive D.C. hotel

Tea and scones been dumped on our low table
 _ _ _ _ _

Poem and Photos Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved 

Notes and photos: 


* "Since the 1500s, “airs” has referred to having an affected manner. It's from the French word air, "look, appearance, or bearing." Behaving as if you're better than other people — wealthier, better dressed, or better educated — is to put on airs. Acting like you know more than your teacher is a way to put on airs.
put on airs - Dictionary Definition : Vocabulary.com

To see where we had tea, highlight the blank area below:
The Building:  : The T r u m p  Hotel in Washington D.C.  No, we didn't stay there, way too many $$$$Bucks for us.  But we did go there for coffee one afternoon.  Mrs. Jim and I opted for a nice Cappuccino.  We (not tea and scones) were served in the hotel lobby.
 

 

 . . . . [click on the picture for larger size viewing]

 

I am linked with Kim Russell in the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, "Weekend Mini Challenge: Buildings", http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/07/weekend-mini-challenge-buildings.html

 

One of Kim's "favourite poems by Philip Larkin is ‘The Building’, which (she) cannot reproduce here due to copyright restrictions."  However, (she) provide(d) a link to the poem HERE." 

 

Her further directions are, "Today’s challenge is to write about a building. It could be a specific building with a name that we would all know without directly naming it."  

 

So I tried.

 

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Ninth LIfe Poetry

My Tale of My Tail;
Cat with Nine Lives

There once was a cat who really did have nine lives
Grateful cuss, each death's new life credited a friend

Then one day, life of eight, his earthly time 'bout up
Before he was looking forward to happy times

But come life number nine he began counting down
Down to the very end, day there would be no more
_ _ _ _

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2007 and 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Bang, You're Dead,   http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/07/fireblossom-friday-bang-youre-dead.html

 - I'm also linked with Burned Food Dude at http://www.bfdude.com/?p=8864 who sponsors Feline Friday there. Sandee at Comedy Plus is his helper and also shows her cat selection at https://comedyplus.blogspot.com/2017/07/feline-friday_14.html

Notes: 
 1. Fireblossom want us to write our last message with death looming.
 2. The Cat is our daughter's "Amber".  Amber stayed with us for her last life which ended sometime during her 19th year on earth.  Amber was a rescue cat who led a good life. Picture from my other blog, http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2007/04/cat-whisperer-and-cat-in-window.html
 3. I have blogged about having nine lives and nine near deaths before, on January 6, 2006 ( http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-nine-lives-or-my-near-death.html ).
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A poem, trial metafiction

Dr. Who? 

Dear reader, my wish for you is 
try to remember who I am 
I'm who you think I am. Only  
I won't say who on these pages 

You see the day I met Louise 
We had this thing, love at first sight 
Very short, courtship made in Hell 
Married Jackson style.  Fever still 

She too had her thing, other men 
Caught them one night in swank hotel 
Dead, I shot him dead, Texas style 
You may remember reading this 

Who I was, lawyer sprang me loose 
Can't mess with Texas boys they knew 
Gave me alias sent me back 
Married again Belle didn't know 

She'll tow the line no second chance 
Louise?  I shot her too, in a way 
Hit man clean shot in her head 
Sent him back to Columbia 

It wasn't me who did them in 
Or is it?  I'm just "Belle's old man" 
 _ _ _ _ _ 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with  Kerry O'Connor, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Literary Excursions with Kerry,   http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/06/literary-excursions-with-kerry.html

 - Kerry wants us to try something somewhat new in poetry, metafiction.  You can read an introduction and get ideas about writing metafiction style at the link above. 
 - Playing a little bit here too, I'm using one syllable words, maximum one word or none with more per line.  A few times I broke my self inflicted rule. 
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Lost; a poem of no recovery

Lost;

running away,
never to be found

 

I'm lost and

can't find my way

Really don't want

to anyway

 

They sent out

the search party

When I saw them come

I hid

 

No recovery

for me right now

Perhaps never

will be

 

Left alone

I want to be

Don't you come looking

for me

_ _ _ _

 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with  Kerry O'Connor, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform,  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-tuesday-platform_20.html

 - Kerry's words for us, "Greetings to all poets, wanderers, those who have lost and found their way...
Do you have thoughts to share, ideas you wish to release into the wild or a world view to express? You have come to the right place."  Her Illustration, below:

[picture on Kerry's post, linked above]

 

 - I took my picture of the Vespa scooter plaque in the "W o r l d . M a r k e t" store in Katy, Texas.  In one of my other lives I had a Vespa motorscooter  for a while.  It sufficed for second car use.  

 - I also used the scooter to get away on long jaunts, mostly riding up to our mountain or downing down along the Rio Grande River, either side.  In New Hampshire the scooter had prettier scenery for exploring. 

 - My Vespa ended life there in New Hampshire.  In another life I had a much larger Honda motor cycle.  That too has ended although I now have an older 1998 Ford Mustang Convertible, a what I call "an old man's motorcycle."

 - Most any place I have liked my solitude now and then but always I have come back.  

 - More birthdays than not I have mentioned running away but when I go Mrs. Jim has gone with me.

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