Saturday, September 13, 2014

Artistic Challenge Poem, Ruby

Ruby was, Ruby is

Ruby is my stone, Ruby was my love
I didn't pick her, Ruby picked moi
Ruby was keen on me when I was young
Not old in years, but older than her years
We'd known each other, it seemed a long while
Then that night, one that boys do remember 
Ruby's gone away, no way I'll find her
Though Ruby picked me, I didn't pick her
She left a rock, rock no one else can have
Placed near my heart I keep it there for her

- - - - - -

Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Picture courtesy Wikipedia, picture link, (Wikipedia Ruby Article link)

- - - - - 
Today I'm linked with

Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Out of the Standard Challenge

 Sister, Do You Love Your Brother?
Awake, he didn’t know since when
Half dressed, bathroom duties called him
But when he flushed all Hell began
Water was gushing everywhere
He tried to shut the water down
Pulled the thing off the wall instead
Water stopped, why he didn’t know
‘Twas his sister’s house, should he tell?
Next he knew it was time for school
Raining now, polished theme was due
Half mile, sister wouldn’t drive him
Walk in rain? No way, he’s retired
Leaving now, water everywhere
Too deep in spots, detours abound
Call his sister? He may come back
And hope she’d forgiven his mess
(Soft alarm) "Ring" (Louder) "Ring, ring"
(Very loud) "Ring, ring." . ..  I was 'he'.

- - - - - -

Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

- - - - - 
Today I'm linked with at the Real Toads, Out of Standard (link)
Izzy's Real Toad post today was entitled, You could have done better....Out of Standard (link--same as above).  Her challenge instructions were short and direct, "Write a poem or piece of fiction which encapsulates a lie you could have told better."  The above is all a lie, it is a dream I had early this morning, just before I woke up.  I left out a lot, and embellished some a bit. 
There was water still coming when the scene changed to leaving for school, from the bottom pipes and from the wall cabinet above.  We weren't headed for school when Sis said no ride, but rather were trying to leave for our home.  Seemed the whole world was flooded.  My dream didn't get us back to her house but we were thinking about that. 
Seems a lot of my dreams about my missing either a class or a day at the University of Nebraska (I at one time had a recurring dream like this) .  I did miss a lot of classes because I was someplace playing chess instead.  Maybe that's why I dream these kind of dreams.

Labels: , , , ,

Sunday, September 07, 2014

Flash Fiction 55 -- Played the Lottery

Played the lottery Saturday nights 
Two bucks kept hidden in her bra
If she won, a new house she'd buy
Move from that old red rusty shed

Win she did one day, went shopping
Found new house her ten K would buy
Small but could wait another day
Win again, get house of her dreams

Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
- - - - -
Today I'm linked with at the Real Toads, Flash Fiction 55

Rules are to "write a poem, prose poem, or piece of flash fiction which uses exactly 55 words to tell its story."  Mine is 55 words, no title.  It's fiction but could be true for some.

Labels: , , ,

Friday, September 05, 2014

I Chose You -- Personal Challenge

I Chose You

I parked my motorcycle on that day
Day when I chose you, all the time hoping
Hoping you'd smile, say to me, "I choose you."

Left the highway's lure the day I chose you
Crawfish fest, other fun, still calling me
Wishing still you'd say "I'll go there with you"

Leave my riding group?  They'll miss me a lot
Never did have a biker chick to stay
One you wouldn't be. I could stay with you

Thank you Sweet, I love you so much. You see,
my motorcycle's parked by your front door
From the day you said to me, "I chose you"

So goodbye High Rollers, been a nice ride
I've began a new life, minding my clan


......[click once, then twice on picture to enlarge, 'Back' to return]
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _ _ _ _ _ _

Photo and poem copyright, © Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved

Today I'm linked with Marian at The Toads, The Valley (link)

Marian posted a YouTube video of David Hidalgo giving his rendition of the older song, "The Valley (Los Lobos)," (Link) .  Below I reproduced the lyrics to this wonderful song of a people, probably men, who settled down in the California Valley area, working, to raise and feed their families.  The song tells me of a sacrifice made for the sake of family.

Her Challenge, " ... I hope you will be inspired by David Hidalgo, Los Lobos, "just another band from East LA," the Barrio, wolves, National Geographic magazine, putting food on the table, hard work, making a home, making a life, finding light from darkness or whatever moves you to write a new poem and share it with us today. "
_ _ _ _ _ _

My poem after listening to David and reading the lyrics several times is partly true, some of it is from Mrs. Jim's and my life.  Before I met Mrs. Jim I did ride a motorcycle, and continued to ride it until our daughter was born.  The 'High Rollers' is a motorcycle club I rode with on occasion, the "Pasadena High Rollers."  Our proposal and marriage didn't' quite go the way of the poem, but it took, lasting so far 41 years.

The picture is of me with my 'clan' of the women resulting from our marriage, four grandchildren, our daughter, and Mrs. Jim.  From left to right, three grand-daughters front row, Megan, KP, BP, second row, grand-daughter Jenna, Mrs. Jim, and daughter Karen. 
_ _ _ _ _ _

"The Valley"

In ancient times
To a place so far away
Across the land
Where the earth was
As tough as clay

Looked at their hands
Looked all around
And they seemed pleased
At what they had found

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able
Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the shadows
Into the light

They could have gone
But instead they chose to stay
To watch the clouds way up high
As they turned to gray
And through the dark
Broke a crimson sun
And at that moment
Knew their lives had just begun

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able
Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the darkness
Into the light

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able

Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the darkness
Into the light


Labels: , , , , , , , ,

Friday, August 29, 2014


Mount Franklin's Peak;
fun mountain climb memories

I'm having memories again this day
Memories of El Paso and it's hill
Mount Franklin beckoned me oft before
I would climb the mountain, rocks and all
Then the cable car I'd ride back down
I'll climb no more though return I might
Will be in the little orange cage
Up and down, this time I'll ride both ways,
Titanium knee, creaking joints, they beg
Please do leave the climb for younger folk

Picture credits:
Top:  Summit Posts, Ranger Peak
Poem copyright, © Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved

- - - - - -
Today I'm linked with 

Labels: , , , , , ,

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

She's a Bit Weird? -- A Limerick

She picks up quarters with her toes
Has followings where ere she goes
Her friends are getting skeered*
They say she's a bit weird
Think not, my tongue touches my nose
_ _ _ _ _ _

Photo and poem copyright, © Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved

Today I'm linked with Mama Z. at the Real Toads, Words Count (Link)

She  said, "The older I get, the easier it is for me to admit that I'm a little weird. Yes, I can pick up a quarter using only my toes. Yes, I'm a water sign that hates the water. And, yes, I do watch Fox News just to ...  See?  A little weird."
"What about you?  Are you a little weird, too?  Do tell . . . in 46 words or less."

My little Limerick has 31 words plus four in the title (post header). Guess I made under 46.

*  Skeered, '"It's the writer's way of imitating the strange accent of one of his characters. "Skeered" = "scared".' (Google Search)

Labels: , , ,

Sunday, August 24, 2014

A Fib(onacci) Poem

Meet you at ...

At the
Melon patch
Bring your spoon, some salt
We'll eat our fill, go for a dip
Then we'll dress and go to a show
When things start to slow
Pucker up

Photo and poem copyright, Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved
Today I'm linked with Margaret at the Real Toads, Play it Again (link)
And now on Monday I'm linked with Kerry at the Real Toads, Open Link Monday (link)
-  like to "Play it Again, Toads!" where one may select a challenge from the three (prior challenges that Margaret has selected). 
- I chose # 2 (link) which says, "The Fib(onacci) - imagined by Hedgewitch."  Syllable length is based on the Fibonacci Sequence (math majors love these, I have a math minor with 21 college hours of math.  Differential Equations was my final course [that I passed]). 
- My "Fib" poem today is 1/1/2/3/5/8 syllables, then I reversed the number sequence after 8 syllables for a 12-line 'poem'.

Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, August 20, 2014


Walt and Henry and Jim and Sarah 
They were working on the form gang that summer. Walt and Henry were Omaha Indians who lived on the reservation. Jim was a student who needed a Summer job, one that paid good.
Sarah was another student who had said in a class with Jim that she wanted not to be married and that she would teach her children to do the same. She hung out with guys on the paving crew that summer, and sure enough when fall came Sally was expecting child. And not married.
Walt was a young Indian buck who after payday wouldn't come back to work the next day.  He smoked cigarettes and drank his booze.  Indians have a bad reputation for their booze, but on this job he did just fine.
Henry was old and wise. He would sit while on a break and pull out whiskers that he could find. This he did by pinching them in his spring from an old window roll-up shade and then pulling them out.  He didn't have many to pull. He said that Indians don't have very much facial hair. Jim had  sometimes pretended to be an Indian and this learning spell about Indian hair gave him doubts but what he was indeed part Indian himself.
There was an old Ford truck that at first only Walt drove.  Filled it up with forms and took them upfront where another gang would make a rail-combo-form to use the next day.  The mixer rode the rails, from Tekamah to Craig, making cement along the way.  That was a long three month task, just right for a summer job.
Jim had another summer job the year before.  His foreman got nasty one day, before a bunch of girls and young ladies working with him in the corn fields detasseling the seed corn.  And he invited Jim to play.  Jim declined his game and the nastiness ended right there.  Jim called it an "escapade almost," but there were no accolades for him for saying no.
Jim learned a lot that summer from working and talking with those Indians.  But ask him what he learned and he'll only remember for his telling that those Indians are nice fellows who worked very hard, were clean, well mannered, and for sure they didn't play nasty games. 
And that one, young man Walt, taught Jim how to drive that form truck that they had named Hot Rod.  It wasn't for certain that Henry knew how to drive.  Oh yes, Sarah proved to the town that the paving crew was up to no good and that they should keep their daughters reined in.

This is a true story the best I can remember.  Some of the names I changed.

[click on pictures to enlarge]
Photos and poem copyright, Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved
Today I am linked with Susie Clevenger at the 
Susie challenged us to appreciate and help disseminate "the voices of Native Americans. They have a profound connection to earth, nature, spirit, and wisdom."  Then she listed some profound quotations by some of the Indian folks. 
A quote she posted that may be appropriate for today's revelations here might be:
'"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." - Blackfoot.'  
Very likely I ("Jim") am the only one now living of these four characters as they were all older than me, even "Sarah" I believe.
I wrote of a highway paving summer job experience where I worked alongside a couple of Native Americans for my specialized job as a 'form gang' member.  "Sarah" was not employed by the paving company and not even seen by the American Indians but was affected by the other workers' presence in our town.

Labels: , , , , ,

Monday, August 18, 2014

Love (# 1) (reposted, formerly June 3, 2010)

Magaly talked of her first poem. My assignment, the first, over at One Single Impression--now dormant--was to write a love poem. I had never written one so I Googled for instructions.
I linked this poem with her, Magaly, at the Real Toads, Monday Open Link (link)

These, which are integrated into my work, served me, the novice, just fine. (I had dabbled before but not published, not even on-line.)
The picture I included, it was our wedding photo.  All family, except my best man.

Mr. and Mrs. Jim's wedding picture
- - -
They said to write a love poem

To my sweetest, my blossom true
wanting to write you a love poem
telling you how much I love you
fingers to keys sweet words to come

tell how you felt when first you saw her
I will try to write a love poem

When first we met my heart went wild
no tender little pitty-pat
but one long jolt you caused, my child,
a bolt from the blue hit my chest

how you knew it was her you loved
It came one day into my head
Listen to my arrow pierced heart
my life will never be the same
Dan Cupid hit me on the mark
that arrow had your name

tell now about being with her

My life is whole a life complete
I need you always by my side
dearer than chocolate you're so sweet
love you always will you're my pride

are you happy with what you wrote?

If I could only write a poem
if I had the sweet words I felt
if I could now put them to print
there would be a love poem for you

discarded thoughts that didn't fit?

Many thoughts I dropped one thing sure
I love you to Heaven above
you can do no wrong you're so pure
I can't live without you my love

- - -

Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

Note:  Now that I've posted this one I did find some other poems that I wrote and posted for One Single Impression.  The first one that I can find is about an outhouse, which way for ladies and which for the men. 
It was titled "Doorway".  (link)  I wrote that one back on June 29, 2008.  There were also some more after that and before the one I posted again here today. (first posted this on link)

Prompt suggested by Melanie at Cassiopeia Rises

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Love" as prompt

Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Get Listed - August - Carpe Diem -- Real Toads

Robin Williams died this Monday. 
The headlines are saying, "Robin Williams dead.
at 63."  That was Monday. 
This is today, Wednesday, 
the headlines are saying many things.

We will miss him.
I like it best said and not lived as Sylvia Plath
put it in her now mortal poem, Lady Lazarus:
"Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
At home on me And I a smiling woman.   
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die."
Sylvia Plath did not attain those nine lives, not even four. 
She took her life when she was 30 and
could not wear her skin again ever. 
Only her poem is mortal.
Robin Williams died at age 63, he took his own life.  
I suppose Robin Williams never read Ms. Plath's poem,
if he did he would see the folly.  Instead, he is dead today. 
The headlines of the tomorrows will have passed
pretty much over Mr. Williams,
will history remember him at all? 
Life goes on. 
Mainly noble persons, barbaric villains, and authors
will be in the encyclopedia, home to those remembered.
And mainly the generations alive today
will be the ones who remember Robin Williams. 
They will tell of their favorite movie they watched, perhaps
even bought.  My favorite was RV, a 2006 film, really funny.
The List today is dreary today.  A soul has passed,
passed from earth to who knows where. 
I believe there are only two, perhaps three places it can go: 
Heaven, Hell, Purgatory

May he RIP.  We are missing you.

- - - - - -
Poem copyright, ©  Jimmiehov 2009, 2014, all rights reserved
Robin Williams picture credit to Wikipedia, Robin Williams

- - - - -
Today I am linked with

The List (of words I was encouraged to use here—I used four, dead, desperation, barbaric, and noble—I decided to write my first thoughts behind each of them):

worm - Wormwood, that junior temptor student to the Chief Demon Screwtape in C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters. 
verse - Second verse, third line: TBD (i.e. you name it poem)
dreams - Broken, much crying and tears, hair pulling, ashes and torn clothes
suck - Life sucks
rout - Win the race, it's a rout, one way or the other for life
daring - Young man on the flying trapeze
caution - To the winds, 'p' on caution (have your ever driven 180 mph?  I have, on the German Autobaun)
seize - The moment, it may be your last
dead - These men don't talk.  Das ende, schluss (German, it is over)
desperation - Don't worry things WILL BE WORSE
barbaric - People with this propensity are presently trying to rule the world, their way only can be 
noble - This man may prevail.  Noble thinking at the least

Grapling's post: Get Listed - August - Carpe Diem
Theme: Robin Williams passed on August 11th, evidently a suicide.

Additional Reading:

Robin Williams was a 'genius so manic he said cocaine helped him keep calm' | Mail Online
References: (Sylvia Plath's poem, Lady Lazarus) (Does St. Peter really hold the keys to Heaven)

Labels: , , , ,