Friday, September 20, 2019

A Poem for the Weekend Mini-Challenge

Grandma's Kitchen;
 things I remember

My Grandma's kitchen
was my safe harbor
A place where I could
be a boy my own

Safe from family males
swearing grandfather
my father learning
to be caring dad

But Grandma found time
time for us to talk
Secrets small, our big
confide safely here

Grandma Cookies were
the best--chocolate chip
Cracker-lined pot held
the best oyster stew

Furnished with blind great
grandfather's organ
iron kitchen stove and
table viewing barn

Cousins aunts uncles
and my grandparents
Holiday feast cooked
our grandpa hollered

"All you kids get in
the woodbox and wait!"

Was Grandpa joking?
 _ _ _

Poem  Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
I am linked with Sherry Blue Sky in the Imaginary Garden hosting the Weekend Mini Challenge at
 - I have 97 words and a title for my Mini Challenge.

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Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Poem ~~ Water Saving

Today is World Water Monitoring Day !! 

  water care

Water water it's our friend
sustainer our make up
Came from God there is no more

For our use we drink we wash
We travel we recreate
From its force power and light

Watch, care, apportion we must
Blessed resource there's no more
_ _ _

- Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2009 and 2019 respectively, All Rights Reserved [Photo original link: ]
- I'm linked with Susan at Poets United, Midweek Motif, Vigilance,

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Monday, September 16, 2019

Poem for a shelter experience

There is this hole;
  buried alive

It's Goodbye, time for me to go
Didn't expect it, be this way
All I have is gone, not this hole
Things have piled on me, can't get out

I really dont want, getting out
Family dead to me, took my dog
There's no flowers left, garden's brown
Things are bad, all I had is gone

Can't write any more, you won't read
My pencil is dull, water's scarce
Junk, junk, all is junk, overhead
This is my Goodbye, 'less you dig

But in my head, I will compose
Poems and letters, they'll abide

p.s. you can wait, see if I ...
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Izadore Gruye in the Imaginary Garden at

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Saturday, September 14, 2019

A short Poem for the Weekend prompt, Groovy

I was running;
trying to dodge

I was running my paper route
trying to dodge water puddles
If one hit I'd cringe and then try
to do better the next few times

Sis couldn't come with this morning
little bug bit her ear she cried
She wasn't tough like a fellow
my kind--girls are made syrupy 

Syrupy I don't mind one bit
'cause I do like their company
Together we drive down the road
throwing papers 'feeling groovy'  

Simon & Garfunkel - The 59th Street Bridge Song (1967) (Feelin' Groovy).wmv  

"The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)"

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

Hello, lamppost, what'cha knowin'?
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't'cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in doo-doo, feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you
All is groovy 
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Marian in the Imaginary Garden, she authored the One Word Prompt, "Groovy", at
 - And with Sherry Blue Sky in the Poetry Pantry at
 - I wonder how many remember this song?  I do.  But then ...

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Friday, September 13, 2019

A Poem for Wild Friday

In my eyes he matches the gods

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you—any man whatever—
listening from close by to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that—I swear it—
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can't
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
a hold of me all over: I'm greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor
sweet thing like me can no longer be near though
without submitting and succumbing the temptation
But just a touch

only one touch when he's not looking on that
bulging bicep so there I've crossed the line
will he know  Know the way my heart is fluttering
Does he know 

like the humming bird wings and there's a
smile creeping across his brow going down
to his masculine accepting lips  Which are
quivering too out of control

waiting for me make a show of my timid desire
which I will honor with my regrets and distress
I uncross my spineless legs and run, run run
and not look back

not one glance—his end
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Sanaa Rizvi, Wild Friday at Poets United
 - Sanaa wants us to go wild with our version, an attempt to finish this unfinished poem.  The first four verses and the first line of the fifth were written by the ancient female author of Homer's era, Sappho, but she or our ancient poem keepers stopped there.
 - Others' versions are linked by our fellow writers at the link above.
 - What cha yua think?

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Tuesday, September 10, 2019

A short poem for "Get Listed"


the couple tried to be the latest
avant-garde in every way they could

assumptions were made clean it would be
affordable audacious combined

absence of malice their sole virtue
risqué aberration to their shame

a million sold clamor never stilled
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved

 - I am linked with Helen in the Imaginary Garden at 

 - Helen is playing the Toads' game of "Get Listed" where we are to write, using at least three (3) of the list of words which she prepared. 
 - There is no prize, no winner for this game.  Write very well and your kudos will give you a thrill.  I used nine of her words which I marked with "xx"s" and think my poem might be soso.

The word list, 
Aberration xx
Absence xx
Assumption xx
Audacious xx
Avant-garde xx
Clamor xx
Risqué xx
Shame xx
Virtue xx 

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Sunday, September 08, 2019

A Sour Poem, not my Norm

The Birds and Me

The birds are singing
but I dont hear
No I'm not deaf but
my head says no
They aren't calling me
from me they run

The birds are singing
but not to me
I can't stand feathers
they make me itch
They dont like me and
I dont like them

I'm not a Scrooge but
Santa must go
My friends like the birds
they stay away
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Sherry  Blue Sky hosting "The Poetry Pantry" at Poets United,

 - Sherry has hinted for a Cheerful World but I've had this song in my head before I woke up by the alarm this morning.
I generally have a smile on my face but I surely am not a bird lover.

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Friday, September 06, 2019

A 55 Word Flash Poem

The Seamstress

She's the seamstress
for our small town
She works so hard
during the day
Her seams are straight
with knots so tight

The sewing part
there's no complaints
Her work is fine
but stress she has
Her stress relief
the folks complain

A tavern hit
She has become
Her play at night
You go figure
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor in the Imaginary Garden at

 - This is a 55 Word Flash Poem, not counting the title, honoring the Toad's prompt, "The Seamstress." You can check this and find links to others who wrote at the link above.

Wednesday, September 04, 2019

A Poem for International Literacy Day

International Literacy Day is 8 September 8th.  Media: Djibril Kebe, UNESCO Media Section,

Do you remember when
when you learned to read
Do you remember when
when did you have
a book of your own
or was it one
that Grandma owned
What were the tools for that
helped you to learn

Try to remember when
When how and what
Tell me yours and
I'll tell you mine

Somewhere in my line of books
came Three Billy Goats Gruff
my mother would
read it to me
My favorite part
was when The Troll
would boldly come out
from under the bridge
Scared the pants off
the boys and the girls 
But not our Goat 

After that part reading
might would end
Sleep play or do chores
would be next

I know there were others before
or to come after like your true love
Love those books I did
though fickle some--Shirley Temple
reigned supreme for a year or two
(I kept my Shirely Temple scrapbook)

Somewhere in line came school
Try to remember yours
I dont remember my first day 
Nor do I remember learning ABC's
Mom probably taught at home, I hope

Next in my memory line was learn
to read about Dick and Jane

See Dick 
See Dick run 
See Dick and Jane run"

Followed by Sambo Geography History
Literature Math Biology Chemistry
Algebra thru and beyond Calculus
and a whole lot more
I had gotten too tired to tell 
we all are bored with even these

In high school I would go to
the Library in Study Hall time
There inside my text was
my Zane Grey paperback novel

Got yours all thought up now?
It's your time to tell

International Literacy Day
is this Sunday
Say a prayer
We should think of and for them
those learning to read or
those who should be but can't 
Perhaps though late they will

UNESCO is leading the way
our local libraries follow 
Visit soon 
Check out a book or two 

Donations appreciated as well
_ _ _

- Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
- I'm linked with Susan who is leading Poets United Midweek Motiff --Literacy at
 - GO there. READ about Literacy Day and find other poems to read at the link above.  TELL ME in my comments here and OTHERS where you TELL.
 - I am also linked with Sherry Blue Sky who is hosting this week's Poetry Pantry with Poets United at

 - "Three Billy Goats Gruff" is a Norwegian fairy tale collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe in their Norske Folkeeventyr, first published between 1841 and 1844. It has an "eat-me-when-I'm-fatter" plot.Wikipedia

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Monday, September 02, 2019

A Story Poem for Monday

Ruins of a castle, 
the ghosts of times long past 

They'll haunt you going in 
their ancestors will growl 

And it'll be sad there 
You'll wish you hadn't gone 

I was in there one time  
sickened by what I found 

Mummified in his chair 
Uncle Nick bound in chains 
Jailed man picture: Nicolas Fouquet and replica prison cell in the
Vaux-le-Vicomte Castle cellar.  (click on picture to enlarge) 
My photo, 2009.  Read about it,

 _ _ _ _ 

- Photo and Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2011 and 2019, All Rights Reserved 
 - I am linked with Sherry Blue Sky in the Imaginary Garden at

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Sunday, September 01, 2019

A Gothic Fiction Short Story for the Prose Pantry

Why was this lake house cottage renting for so cheap

We all loved the little cottage by the lake. And we got it so cheap, the Landlord has ducked my question why such a bargain. A bit of worry, he responded, "the basement's wet, don't go down there." 
We fed the kids hot dogs that night. The neighbor girl, Neiva, and our daughter, Cloie, turned in early for their first night. We all follow after the News.

But I can't sleep, I'd heard a noise a bit earlier. Maybe. But it stopped soon and I didn't go down until now.

Nothing down here, all like we left it. I put my ear to the basement door and hear swishing there. I easily jimmy the lock, open the door slowly and turn on the light.

I see the curtains waving, someone or somebody had just left through the window. Worse though are the bodies floating in waist deep water. Kids, all kids and teen girls.

Closer I look. There was one lady, half naked with her arms torn off. Then I see her face, bloody and scratched, it was my wife.

Call the sheriff, call the sheriff!!! My cell phone had no coverage.

Just then I see the landlord coming through the basement door. With a hand half covering his eyes he comes toward me. But something is wrong, he looks more like a bear than a man.

His front two teeth are six inches long. But sickening to me those teeth are holding the teens, Cloie and Neiva. They are limp and crying.

With strength I never knew I had I grab him by the throat and hold tight until he collapses.

Neiva ran upstairs to call the sheriff, Cloie was still crying, and I puke. 

Now I know why the low priced rent.
 _ _ _ _

 - Prose Story Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in the Pantry of Prose at

 - Magaly wants us to write a Gothic Fiction Short Story having 313 words or less.  Mine with the title has 304 words. What is Gothic Fiction?  Read around my Google Search, click here.

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Saturday, August 31, 2019

A Poem for Saturday -- two Senyru and a Tanka

Sure, it's not "Fake News"; 
  but "unreliable narrators"

Read it on Google 
Nasty comet is coming 
Oops I meant comment 

From the jockey's mouth 
Pick my Jersey Lass to win 
Odds are one to ten 

Fox or CNN 
(Reader fill in this line)
We tried to contact 
And when there is no response 
Be assured it's not Fake News 
 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Bjorn in the Imaginary Garden at

 - Bjorn asked for tales told by unreliable narrators and yet they be tripped up. His final instruction words were, "A poem is not a novel, so I am very curious how you will meet this challenge in a fairly short poem." I have a short 51 words, three short poems in one.

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Thursday, August 29, 2019

A Weekend Micro Poem

Like I am;
  with empty parts

Make it better is the cry I hear
Always ever people want to fix
You alone can fill my empty parts

I'm not real perfect in many ways
Looks flawed  browned bruised scratched and missing parts

Listen, my words scratchy voice.  Feel, bumps
over my body them you don't see

Use a Cane, spas pills cream do no good
Ugly mess, you love me like I am
There's no fixing me My hurts you soothe
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor in the Imaginary Garden at
 - One of Kerry's request was to write a poem using the phrase, with empty parts.  She also asked for no more than ten lines.  I have ten lines and 75 words plus six in the title.
 - I have some of the above situations but not all.  I do have the cane, I am hoping that this impediment to my getting around will only be temporary.  Seems I lose my crutches quite easily, so far I've lost one.

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Tuesday, August 27, 2019

A Tuesday Poem -- Reminiscing

They Read, You Read  

Who all my readers are 
I'll never know
Where my former student are 
I'll not know
But some I do know, 
tidbits, others a lot more

Basketball players, 

now professional.  
Big name team, 
they've  become 
big time players 

BS degree graduates, 

they call me down 
in supermarkets 
AA degree grads we 
might meet at an 
auto dealer repair 


from inspiration and ideas 
started in my classes, 
graduated from prestigious 
law schools 

Beauty pagent winners, 

one Miss USA

Friends and relatives - if and when each other we see

FaceBook friends and readers -- almost every time we meet

I'm proud of them, every one

They are pretty loyal folk, 
those who never leave a mark 
when they're here 

Then when by chance 

or by design, we visit 
it's a happy meeting 
for old time sake and 
catching up 

And if they don't read 
that's alright 
I remember anyway 
 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Sanaa  Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at

 - After 17 years of Aerospace Engineering work, mostly at NASA Houston, I changed careers.  I was a Business Professor and taught mostly Business Law and Entrepreneurship classes for 22 years.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Missing Man

Today their mission was to be
peaceful remembrance sad event
When best in spectator view
Highlight of the show would begin

They'd practiced over and over
So that today's would be perfect
In formation at chosen spot
From first file flying lower left

the plane, rather the bird, peeled left
Were it not for show it would have 
spiraled down probably in flames
Pilot and crew meet their Maker

Show will go on another town
Pilot and crew will die for them 
 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved 
 - Photo copied from the link below 
 - I am linked with Sherry Blue Sky at the Poetry Pantry, Poets United,

Saturday, August 24, 2019

A Poem -- Do I ever win? Yes and No

[Picasso sculpture]

Nobody Loses All The Time

I don't keep count
The many times I've made the bed
Putting the pillows for your head
Or the few times you've lent a hand
Nobody loses all the time

I don't keep score
Who is ahead in our game
How many times I cook the meals
or wash the dishes or the clothes
Versus your mowing, paying bills
Nobody loses all the time

and then
I don't, or do I, keep track 
Times there are that you miss the pot 
Don't ask me because there are a lot 
and don't you say "I'm all you've got" 
but if you do 
Nobody loses all the time 

What does it matter 
Your passion puts you way ahead 
Though I'm in love with you always 

So there
We both can win
(and I'm winning right now)
(Haha haha)   
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - Photo is from Karin's prompt post, linked below, from a "Picasso sculpture show at the Museum of Modern Art in New York"
 - I'm linked with Kerry O'Conner for the prompt in the Imaginary Garden at

 - and per one of Kerry's Play It Again! with 'Old Toads' listed choices to which I am further linked with an older post I chose, 
" Sunday Mini Challenge with Karin Gustafson, January 16, 2016."

-  I had previously written to this same prompt by Karin on January 16, 2016, about my way of dealing with Tall Ladies,
 - Karin mentioned Picasso and E.E. Cummings, Nobody Loses All The Time, Link - from which I got my title and inspiration for this one.  Mine will not stand up with the one by E.E. Cummings, but then who is keeping score?

- Not keeping  track but my "Mini" poem has 145 words.

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Thursday, August 22, 2019

A midweek Poem -- Visit a Museum

The Musée d'Orsay

Walking distance for the healthy
coming from the Eiffel we've done
probably not me anymore
Unless I can get shed this cane

The Musée d'Orsay's one we love
Old 1900 train station
Now holds art works of the masters
Huge train clock glass see in and out

There's no long queue you can come now
Have your fill largest collection
of impressionist and postim-
pressionist masterpieces in

the world, by painters including
Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir,
Cézanne, Seurat, Sisley, Gauguin,
and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

My beloved Vincent Van Gogh
Rodin sculptures here and at his
own museum here in Gay Paree
Or home with Wikipedia
_ _ _

Links: Musee d'Orsay Wikipedia ;
Rodin, Paris
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Susan hosting Poets United Midweek Motiff

 - I am Museuming again and have not quite run out of museums to splash on these pages. To see my blog search on the word, "museum", click on this link,

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Tuesday, August 20, 2019

A Prose Poem (phone conversation transcripted and annotated) for Tuesday

The Call; 
the beginning of an end 

(Ring, ring, ring)
Hi Jim
(Hello Dearest son)
Hi Dad
(a pause, long)
I have stopped driving
and have hung up my keys

I got lost yesterday
coming home from church
(that's only four blocks
on the same street
where he lives)

Don't worry about me
the nursing home has
a room reserved for me
(but Dad you aren't
old and 
sick enough for doing that)

I've seen it
it has room for my
dresser and recliner chair
(Oops, oops. Trouble!!)

Well Dad,
I'm sorry to hear this
Otherwise how are you feeling?

Oh. I'm doing fine,
just can't see
We ate and had a meeting
I stayed too late at church
and it was getting dark
And I'm getting more blind
(he had macular degeneration
and was living alone
since Mom had died)

(a long pause)
Well Dad,
don't move yet we are
coming up this weekend
(we want to help you out
with checking to see how
assisted living would
fit your situation)

Okay, I won't
See you soon then
_ _ _

The end here. There was a lot more happening with him over the next seven years. This might be or have been your parent(s)parents or grandparent(s) situation.

I may write more later, another day.
_ _ _

- Prose Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
- I am linked with Anmol (aka Ha) in the Imaginary Garden at

 - Dad lived seven more years, all away from his home