Saturday, November 17, 2018

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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 - 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

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Tuesday, November 06, 2018

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

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Saturday, November 03, 2018

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 within 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.

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Saturday, October 27, 2018

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

Friday, October 26, 2018

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)

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Thursday, October 18, 2018

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

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Tuesday, October 16, 2018

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
 - 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.


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Saturday, October 13, 2018

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.

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Tuesday, October 09, 2018

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


Saturday, October 06, 2018

Our Mr. Locksmith ~~ an Acrostic Flash Poem

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.

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