Thursday, June 21, 2018

Who, what, when, where -- my asking Why Poem

John Moore, a Getty Images photographer

Now I'm asking why

Who, what, when, and where
We're supposed to ask
Now I'm asking why

Why why do we make
Little babies cry
Child needs her mama
Why why do grown men
And younger boys grope
Women not secure

Who, what, when, and where
We're supposed to ask
Now I'm asking why

Why why is it smart
To mistreat the pets
Still they love you much
Why why there's no blush
Discriminate race
Religion ethnic

Who, what, when, and where
We're supposed to ask
Now I'm asking why
Why why folk forget
--Uncivilized-- to
Love one another
_ _ _ _

- Poem Copyright, © 2018 Jimmiehov,  All  Rights  Reserved  
 - Photo from Yahoo, see link below photo 

 - I'm linked with Marian at 
 - We were encouraged to write an unhappy song using a vocaloid music app but I don't have one on my Galaxy 5 smart phone.   I'm not sure one could sing this or not.

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Tuesday, June 19, 2018

My Weekends ~~ a 'Memories' poem for Tuesday

Weekend Blues (Memories)

If you'll hold my cane
My bike is ready
I'll get on, be first
Kick-ass weekend's here

Then lively you'll hop
Biker chick today
Watch your hair flying
Your back is burning

We'll ride through the park
'Neath each tree a band
ZZ Top is there
Oops, not 70's

Those were the Kick-ass weekends in Houston, especially Sunday afternoons with rock bands playing everywhere,  almost under every other tree in certain parks. When evening came, the Bayou banks swarmed with overflow to the downtown loading docks.
No more, culmination of the era was the Woodstock like concerts coming followed by rollerblading on the streets. Neither were for me.  I did have a motorcycle and did listen to music in the parks.
_ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, © 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved 
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi at

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Preaching to Fathers -- a Fathers Day Poem

Father and son
Father and son duality
It starts with birth and lasts till death
Father son not seeing alike
Not exactly my story here
Older man alone sat in church
'Twas Father's Day preacher ranted
Man had forgotten now sorry
he came to hear preacher's guilt trip
Telling how fathering be done
How so many had missed their mark
So much was missed in molding sons
How the sons now like the fathers
Should he leave?  clearly not for him
Shrunken he sat couldn't get up
Preacher said Grandfathers have an-
other chance Teach the children well 
Spanned from manners to work ethics 
From respect for the other sex
To making budgets paying bills
Loving neighbors and feeding poor 
Feeling better he'll see them more
Maybe their parents, his own kids
Will have some rub off onto them
Shake the preacher's hand turn new leaf
 _ _ _ _ 
  - Photo and Poem Copyright, © 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
  - I'm linked with of the Real Toads at (read more there at this link)

  - Picture is a "PrintScreen" photo copy of the picture Brenden above used.
 I don't care it's my life leave me alone

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Thursday, June 14, 2018

a "What makes" poem for Thursday

What makes the wind blow
What do you think makes the wind blow
I'm not worrying about that,
I don't even know what makes wind
Well smarty pants even fools know,
God in his Glory made the wind
Smarty pants you, why does it stop,
you think God makes it start each time
Course not, He made it self starting
Well maybe that's the way all is
and I can buy that, He's real smart
I dare say that we've solved the problems
of the world, now what's there to eat
 _ _ _ _ _

  - Photo and Poem Copyright, © 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
  - I'm linked with Karin, aka of the Real Toads at (read more there at this link)

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Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Colour my World -- a Poem for Tuesday

Composing with Color

Why do I use broken crayons to write
Colors in small pieces I've lost their names
Their wrappers are gone they're no longer proud
Now looking dull still for me they'll wax bright

It's for those bright hues on paper they leave
I'm inspired to fashion my morning thoughts
Evening ones too, even in midday's heat
Mournful sticks colorful hues they invoke

That the color shows through to those who read
That their thoughts and dreams can depart this world
Monocolored and ugly bit brightened
My hope for them those broken crayons bring

"Thanks" to those small naked pieces of wax
You have lightened the young and old and me 
 _ _ _ _

  - Photos and Poem Copyright, 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
    (see above link for source of my PrintScreen Photo)
  - I'm linked with Pat (willow_switches) at the Real Toads,

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Saturday, June 09, 2018

A Tetractys Poem for Friday

Do not see
See eye to knee
One thing certain always be you and me

We never quarrel but sometimes we fuss
Doesn't hurt us
Nor you cry
Love I
 _ _ _ _ _

Photo and Poem Copyright, 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I'm linked with the "Real Toads" at

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Tuesday, June 05, 2018

After the Rain ~~ a Poem for the Aging

After the rain

'Twas after the rain, you had come
Mother had let us out to play
Went through my junk, founď things that float
Float we did, regular junket

'Twas after the rain, Saturday
You called me in, said let us play
Hot steamy out there, cool inside
We played, soon hot steamy in there

'Twas after the rain, in the home
Parked by the window, left me there
Watch the puddles dry, can't get out
Glad you stopped by, do I know you
 _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, 2018 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with the Real Toads at
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi at The Imaginary Garden,
 - Ugo, Japanese for "after rain" per Toni Spencer at

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Sunday, June 03, 2018

Under the bridge ~~ a Camera Flash poem

Look under the bridge
Can see Sydney's underpants
Not unlike Paris France
 _ _ _ _

Photo and Poem Copyright,  2018, All Rights Reserved

I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor at

I hope I'm not too risqué, keep in mind the nursery rhyme, 
"I see London, 
I see France, 
I see xxxx's underpants."
(Or has that one been barred now?)

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Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Beneath the Mulberry Tree, a poem for Tuesday

Previously posted for

NaPoWriMo 2018-24 -- Day 24 

We met 'neath the mulberry tree
She said, I don't know you, do I?
I asked how might that be

(The races start now with this girl)
I asked, care for a mulberry?
She said, I'd much rather a date
_ _ _ _

Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2012 and 2018, All Rights Reserved 
(I took this picture at Regents' Park in London, about 2012)
- I'm linked with at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Poems In April - The Tuesday Platform, 
Sanaa would like for us to use exactly 140 letters.  It was in April but changed to 145.

- I'm also linked with NaPoWriMo2018m Day 24, 

- And again with Rommy for for Tuesday Platform on May 29, 2018 at

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Saturday, May 26, 2018

another June Bug poem for the Weekend

June Bug I found
On one of my hybrid roses
Grew a green bug, in fact many
I asked around they all knew not
What nature of beast I had found
Some suggested I boil a few
Recommended this hot oil fad
Salt and pepper roast until brown
Scarf down like maggots on a fork
Down the hatch chased with sip of Coke
When the stomach rebels fake it
Soda cracker saltines will do
Next time pull the heads don't eat them
There will be no next time for me
Trusty sprayer bid "fly away"
 _ _ _ _

 - Photos and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2006 and 2018, All Rights Reserved 
   [photos originated with my SIL's father, posted on my blog 2006 ]

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 - I'm linked with

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