Thursday, March 24, 2011

One Single Impression: Hollow



There was an old man his leg was hollow
where ever he'd go the cats would follow
he led them up the street and down the street
great thirst had by all and nothing to eat
alone now bottle gone cats left the rink
wasn't him they'd sought rather was his drink

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Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

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Prompt word, Sarcastic, suggested by Vinay (Leo) at I Rhyme Without Reason
Find more poems at
One Single Impression using "Hollow" as prompt

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Sunday, March 20, 2011

One Single Impression: Sarcastic (an Acrostic)




She at golf was not so very good
Able father helped as best he could

Right hand placed bottom first on your club
Club behind the ball just off the ground
Address ball with feet in line with pin
Swing up hips sway back sway hips swing down
Take practice swing move back keep your line
I'll keep eyes on ball—your swing was fine

Can't find my ball—O Dad that was good

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Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

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Prompt word, Sarcastic, suggested by Priyanka Bhowmick at Lens and Verses
Find more poems at
One Single Impression using "Sarcastic" as pompt

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Thursday, March 17, 2011

Snowdrops ~ A Saint Patrick's Day story

Quilldancing Assignment #3
Quilly posted this on her blog March 6, 2011:
Your Writing Assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a complete story in 500 words or less using the scenario below to kick-start your thinking. Publish your story on your blog March 15th, then come back here (to her blog) and link it to my March 15th story.

The photo below reveals the main character of your story. Your tale must also include a 4 leaf clover and a golden key.

(My entry weighs in at 498 words but is posted two days late on St. Patrick's Day.)


Betsy was up to her ears in white snowdrops. These little flowers were early this year and were getting in Betsy’s way. Betsy had been looking this day for four-leaf clovers. But now these darned snowdrops, well, they were confounding the issue. You see Betsy had stayed home ‘sick’ from kindergarten today.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like school, just that the other kids would tease her especially hard on St. Patrick’s Day for not being Irish. Irish was in, definitely. Didn’t they declare an Irish holiday for the old gentleman? After all he did scare all the snakes away.

So they say, thought Betsy.
Grandmum would agree with her had she lived to hear it. Poor Grandmum. Somebody whacked her good whilst she was bringing in peat for the cook stove. Whacked her good and stabbed her with a paper knife.

It was barely six weeks since Grandmum had gotten killed and Mum was worried silly whenever Betsy went out to play. “Always tell us when you go,” she would say, “and don’t go out of the yard.” Poopy! There wasn’t any fun in the yard.

Now who in the world is this coming out here? Mum always said don’t talk to strangers. I hope they don’t want to talk. I’ll hunker down a bit and hide over behind this stump.

“Hey you. Kid,” hollered the one with the hairy eyebrows and ear lobes, “come over here.”

“Mum says for me not to talk with strangers,” Betsy replied meekly in her shaky little voice, “and you look strange to me.”

“Peanut, you come over here,” commanded the one with the crooked nose. “Who you calling strange, you Brit little silly? Just a tiddler should shut his mouth about being strange.”

Betsy knew in an instant that these blokes were up to no good. Calling her a boy made no sense. “Run, run fast,” entered her mind. That was what Father would yell she knew. Both men were chasing her now, each with a paper knife raised to strike! Betsy ran faster!

The bloke with hairy ears threw his knife. It sailed past Betsey’s shoulder. That was a close shave! Wow! Then she stumbled. Her left foot got tangled in a string. Strange! Was everything strange today?

Betsy found herself falling into a hole. Not the rabbit hole like Alice found. Just a deep hole. Out of sight in the hole, Betsy unraveled the string. Yikes! This might be her lucky day! A gold key at the end of the string. But then, …

That the key had been her grandmum’s was her fortune today. The crooked nose fellow had thrown the string. Grandmum’s key was on it! With those guys in jail now, and the chest to unlock, Betsy was on High Street!

Better yet! Inside the chest was Grandmum’s four-leaf clover. “This is my lucky day after all,” she sighed. And smiled. She would be a hero in school tomorrow. Thank you lucky snowdrops.

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Snowdrop Placard Photo and Story Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov -- All Rights Reserved

Note: This story was written for and is also on my other blog, Jim's Little Blog.

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Monday, March 14, 2011

Pi-Ku ~~ Happy Pi Day

Two Pi-Ku
(no, not Haiku)
one for you, one for me

peach apple
three point one four

pi R square
one eighth for you

Today, March 14 (3-14 or 3.14) is Pi Day (link). Pi Day is celebrated mostly by mathematicians but you can join in on the fun, somehow. Me? I am writing these two Pi Ku's for my blog.

I am not a mathematician but I do have a math minor to go along with my bachelor of science in economics. For me that involved taking seven college math classes for a total of 21 semester hours.

Differential Equations, DE, was my most involved class that I completed. Advanced Calculus was my 'weedout' class, i.e. I dropped it before completion.
Read here to find out why this course "weeded me out."

Oh yes,
One Single Impression (OSI) invited us to write the Pi Ku for Pi Day. One little insight here, both Sandy and Andrée, instigators of OSI, are teachers. Andrée teaches Math, Sandy I think not.

Their idea for the Pi Ku is to have a three line poem which is similar to the Haiku. However, the syllable count is three, one, and four instead of the five, seven, five of the haiku.

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Sunday, March 06, 2011

One Single Impression: Accidental


we met, memories of our rude beginning
small bump in the dark, o that fateful night
with no hint at all nor thought of sinning
unavowed ways begun, we shunned the light

with thoughts arousing and smells enticing
one sensuous embrace our hearts afire
make inward passions ever spiraling
hands now controlled by instinctive desire

our senses coming we know right for sure
no affair for us ne'er a fateful romp
call an end to our backseat adventure
that started with one accidental bump

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Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

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Prompt word, Accidental, suggested by Brenda Bryant at Rinkly Rimes

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Accidental" as pompt

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