Thursday, June 22, 2017

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, at the Imaginary Garden with Real
 Toads, Literary Excursions with Kerry,

 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.  Twice I broke my self inflicted rule. 

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Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Lost; a poem of no recovery

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, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform,

 - 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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Saturday, June 17, 2017

Micro Poetry ~~ The Day

Emerald Cave Morakot, Thailand
from Kerry's post, June 17, 2017

The Day When 

Her bones turn to dark emeralds
Hues of green, admirable sheen
Guarded she'll be, teeth of gems green
Brazen thieves their wares they pedaled 

Her blood will turn to fine Merlot 
Drink of queens none finer for them
Hair of shining gold, fine emblem 
Dreaded thieves their wares all aglow

Emeralds, gold, wine undid her 
Thieves.  She's sold to highest bidder

_ _ _ _
 - Photo (see Toads link below) and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Micro Poetry ~ Dark Emeralds,

 - Kerry's words for us, "Today is the day we put the "mini' back into the Sunday Mini-Challenge, and return to the option of form poetry. The object of this challenge is to write a poem in no more than 10 lines (but you may write in fewer than 10 lines all the way down to a single American sentence). Choose your own form or write in free verse, if preferred... our frame of reference is "Dark Emeralds" - from the final line of this poem by James Wright" again at the Toads link above.


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Saturday, June 10, 2017

A Prose Poem, with Buzzard help

Of what am I made?
When asked the question,
"what are you made of,"
what do you say?  

There is the old adage,
"girls are made of honey,
flowers and nice things
while boys are from pigs tales."

Thus said:  I was dropped
on a rock by a bird and
the sun hatched me. 

I'm made from that egg.
The egg, best to my knowledge
is made of whatever the bird
had been eating while she
formed it.  This goes with
"what you are is what you eat."

My mother bird, 
A buzzard**told me the other night, 
was helping eat a dead deer 
in the ditch the week before 
she laid the egg.

And dead bugs on the
way home every night.

Those stock answers hold
the answer still today. 
_ _ _ _

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

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, “I Am Made of…” (Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly),

 - Magaly's words: "I invite you to ask yourself, what am I made of? Then craft your answer into a 3-stanza poem or a very short story (of 131 words or fewer)."  I used exactly 131 words with my title and since it is prose poetry broken up into groups of short lines (not verses?).

 - **I came onto this pictured group of buzzards feeding on the dead dear while driving near Montgomery, Texas.  One from this group told of my mother bird. 

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Friday, June 09, 2017

A Friday Poem for Words Count


It was her day of the week
Dread day had come again
Long shore walk another land
Princess's weekly bane 

Stack of cards piled nine feet high
Dread task she couldn't abstain
Lucky pull got the 'Judgement' card
Princess's weekly bane

Boys swimming in the girls pool
Naughty boys had no shame
Forgive them today—Judgement
Princess's weekly fame

(Please note on the Tarot card the 
abundance of nymps swimming in the pool.)
_ _ _ _

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

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Words Count With Mama Zen,

 - Mom Zen's words: "... visit to get your tarot card for the day (it's free; no sign-up). Explore the meaning of your card.  Treat it as a joke, a portent, a really cool piece of art - whatever suits your muse.  Just make sure your muse keeps her musings to 60 words or less." (I had exactly 60 words including the title.)

"The Daily Tarot
The Judgement(sic):  You can secure an important victory and achieve a long-held aspiration today. This obviously is not an overnight achievement but probably something you've been intermittently pursuing for a long time. Some dreams refuse to die, and this may be the day for one of those dreams to begin to see the light of day in the real world. Be heartened and don't let up now."                         
Above "Daily Tarot" text and my card picture (a screen print) are from:

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Tuesday, June 06, 2017

Somewhere ~~ A Poem for Tuesday

Over the rainbow I must go
It is there we have peace and love
There sons will come home in one piece
Mothers will need no tears for them
Over the rainbow I needs go
For there it is that true love stays
No partings the lovers suffer
True love remains, be truly true
Over the rainbow I will go
There children will not be hungry
Food is plentiful, water flows
Free medicine, vaccinations
Over the rainbow I'll go now
Government is friendly and true
No poisons, pollutions, or guns
People live as God intended

_ _ _

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

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platvorm,

 - Kerry's words for us, "It is the day to share our thoughts in poetry, here where the platform belongs to those who embrace the concept of the pen being mightier than the sword, the song more powerful than the war cry."


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Sunday, June 04, 2017

A Poem for Flash PLUS! -- Ghost Town

Berlin, Nevada, is a ghost town
Public Domain (from Wikipedia)(Link)
I closed my eyes and willed to dream
To dream about an old ghost town
Old West town that fell on bad times
Abandoned.  Middle of the night
Loaded the old Ford trucks, some food,
Kids and dogs, pots and pans, they left 
Light of Moon, middle of the night
Kissed their fortunes teary goodbyes
_ _ _ _ _
 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Flash 55 PLUS!,

 - Kerry's instructions were to write using exactly 55 words.  The PLUS part is optional, if we meet that challenge it will be "to consider the theme of the GHOST TOWN." 
 - I did both.

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Friday, June 02, 2017

A poem for make believe ~~ Paper Moons

 Paper Moons 
Now again have Paper Moons and
Cardboard Seas and Painted Rainbows
College girls with yellow dogs, most 
Bare foot, roller skates.  Cutoffs

Fellows with white VWs
Beetles with their folding cloth roofs  
Elvis and next come the Beetles,
Joplin, Me and Bobby McGee

Once again protests made legal
A fight for right with some lives lost
Kent State, John Lennon, your hero?
Against tyranny, war.  Shalom
Like "Back Then" now was gone, never
Would be the same. Super Seniors
Are stepping up to take their place
With Paper Moons, Painted Rainbows  

Gone forever those Paper Moons?
Who will step up, make us believe?

Janis Joplin / Me And Bobby Mcgee [Live] 1970 - YouTube

Working Class Hero - John Lennon
_ _ _ _ _

 - "Back When" for me was working as an Aerospace Engineer (no degree then) at NASA Houston Space Center and working for College Degrees, mostly at night.  I did have a 1962 BW Bug with a folding top sunroof which took me where I needed to go.  It would be replaced by a 1969 Ford Thunderbird and a 1971 Hondo Motorcycle. These vehicles were all used as were all my other vehicles except two, the last in 1967. 

My hair was collar length and I smoked, mostly a pipe.  There really was a long haired barefoot cutoff wearing young lady who sat beside me in Differential Equations class. She made her "A" and I made my "C". (Car list--scroll down just before the red Ford Pickup)("Back Then" girls who were my friends list)(Our wedding picture)

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

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday: It's Only A Paper Moon,

Fireblossom's instructions were in part, "Write something that makes us believe in something that isn't real (i.e. a Paper Moon that isn't real anymore?) ... Please make it a NEW poem or flash fiction."

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Sunday, May 28, 2017

Memory Poem, My Favorite Uncle Howard - Weekend Challenge

of Places and Persons

Memories can fail one
Memories can remind
Memories bring pleasure
Memories do not lie

Memories of a man
Man in the spring cornfield
He and this boy walked corn  
Hoes in hands they ambled

Cocklebur or milkweed
Beware green invaders
Our hoes will chop you down
Get their roots man would say

While walking the man would
Yodel and sing a song
One the boy wouldn't know
He'd stand amazed.  Radio?

Yes Country and Western
Their singers' voices loud
Man in corn, high pitch voice  
Boy tried to imitate

Memories of the man
Cornfield again, ripened
Leaves and stalks turned to brown
Shucking corn, harvest's good

Now walking rows again
Snapping each ear of corn
Away from its brown stalk
Tossing in the wagon

Two horses pulling slowly
Down those rows, knew their way
Stopping on command, wait
For man, boy, to catch up

Man was Uncle Howard
Most people didn't know
How well he could yodel
For sure to pre teen boy

Memory's last setting 
Hospital room, last days
He prayed for every nurse
Boy now man, last visit  

Memories last until
We remember no more
Uncles yodeling still
In Heaven's gold cornfields
_ _ _ _

 - This one is true.

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2010 and 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Weekend Mini Challenge: People and Places,

Kim's in part instructions:  "Today’s challenge is to write about a place through a person or a person through a place."  After I finished I notice the word, "Mini".  My poem sure isn't very mini.
Excerpt from my previous blog:

"Uncle Howard was Dad's youngest brother, two years younger than Dad. I felt that I was his favorite nephew; he called me "Jimmy." My best remembrance of him is that he could yodel. He is the only person I know or have known who could yodel. He yodeled good, very good. He would only yodel when nobody was around, except me.

Uncle Howard's favorite song was
Cattle Call:

"The cattle are prowlin'
The coyotes are howlin'
Way out where the doggies roam
Where the spurs are a jinglin'
And the cowboy is singin'
His lonesome cattle call
He rides in the sun'
Til his days work is done,
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
Singing his cattle call"

I still like to sing that song when nobody is around too. And I try to yodel. Uncle Howard never sang in public either. Not even in church. ... (More ... )"

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