Friday, May 30, 2014

Living on the Thames -- Sketch Book Challenge

....... [click on picture for large size]
....... [click again for larger still]

Living on the Thames

How are things going, Mema?**
"Oh fine darling, I'm just sit-
ting here watching the four walls"

A generation and some
years later the daughter said,
"I'm here just hanging out and
watching the tide come and go"

Here hubby chimed in, "let's see
about this, what else is there
to watch?" "We'll take some notes and
I'll catch some pictures and sketch."

You can watch the scaffolding
go up on the new building
next door.  Or below see the power
wash man do his thing.

Or watch the construction cranes
a mile away, see if they
make their move today, lifting
See, the tide is out right now
but that doesn't phase this boat

The yellow window wash man,
he seems to be a McDon-
ald's toy playing way down there

If I were you I might be
counting all the red double
decker buses, that beats the 
tide that comes in and goes out
only once or twice a day.

You could follow your doctor's
orders, walk to the Vauxhall
bridge and spot the London sights.

Slowly turn round three-sixty
What you see will be pretty
The exercise will do you
more good than sitting alone
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Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Today I'm linked with Margaret at the Real Toads, Sketchbook Poetry Challenge
**Note:  (1) At the Vauxhall Bridge, Lambeth, London, U.K, the Thames actually rises and lowers by fourteen feet with the coming and going of the tide.
............ (2) Mema was my mother-in-law.  She died at age 89 in 2007. (Link to her tale)
Loosely, Margaret asked us to write after a sketch, written or drawn.  She said we could be loose, I used some photographs that I took this morning.  We are visiting relatives who live on the Thames in London, neither Mrs. Jim nor I live here.  The pictures are what can be seen from their window and balcony and some others that I took just a few minutes' walk away, from the Vauxhall bridge.

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Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Curse of the Goat -- A Personal Challenge

The Curse of the Goat
The Chicago Cubs stink, they have since 1945. 
Every one knows. 
It all began with Bill "Billy Goat" Sianis,
famous pet the owner of Billy Goat Tavern,
and his goat, Murphy.

That fateful day in '45 Murphy came
to the ball game with his man, a big Cub fan was he.
But they were met at the gate, there at Wriggly Field,
by the Cub Usher Cops Corp in full.

You can't come in with that goat,
now or ever was their edict. 

So Old Man Sianis called on his friend,
Cub's owner, Mr. Wriggly.  Now Mr. Wriggly knew
from where his fortune was coming.
What fan in his right mind wants to sit beside a goat. 
He cringed, friend or no, he knew what to do. 

"There's no way in Hell your goat can come,"
Mr. Wriggly hollered, "BESIDES HE STINKS." 
Honked off, Sianis and his goat left.
But on the way out he retorted, "you'll not win
this game or another series ever." 
Murphy added his feeling, Maa, Maa. 

Since that day the curse was on.
Not only do the Cubs not win series,
To this day has been this way,
go check the stats in your paper.
It's the Curse of the Goat, may it continue on.**


Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
To authenticate this curse for yourself, please check here.
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Today I'm linked with the Izzy at the Real Toads, Poem is a Curse
**Notes:  (1) Izzy challenged us to write a curse poem.  I think she may have wanted us to initiate the curse but I really didn't do that.  I just tell the story here, mostly true, and declare that Murphy's curse continue.  Curses do stop you know.
.............. (2) The animal pictures (at the top are two goats, the bottom guys peeking over their barn door are sheep) were taken during our recent visit to the Vauxhall City Farm located in the Vauxhall area of Lambeth, England, a borough of London, U.K.  Admission was free as are most of the city museums, gardens, and the like.

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Saturday, May 24, 2014

Dirt Farmer -- Play it Again

Dad was a dirt farmer

Dad was a dirt farmer, why am I not?
Straight was his favorite, more than a word
Planted crop rows must be aligned, no bends

Fences too had to be straight, post by post
And down the hill, bends would show, neighbors know
Do them over was his word, end up straight

Weeds to be cut, no spraying, kids 're home
Hoes were the tool, with them we walked the rows
Miss a weed he'd be on your tail, go back

All was that way on his farm. And the cows?
They had better line up straight in their rows
The horses too, just the pigs were sloppy

Dad wanted to be a lawyer, the best
Grandpa said no, I need help on the farm
So I became the lawyer, Dad's straight kind

Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
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Though most of my poems are fiction with seemingly real events, this one is real and is a tribute to my dad who died in 2007.  He was a good farmer, I would not have been. (link)
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I'm linked today with Margaret at the Real Toads, Play it Again Challenge

Margaret wants us to go back to one of three older challenges, I chose "Challenge #2:  "Dirt Farmer" Imagined by Marian - HERE." In this challenge Marian wants us to write a response writing to the Band's 1980's (??) song, with Levon Helm, the drummer, singing "Poor old Dirt Farmer.
Listen to it below:

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Friday, May 23, 2014

Tell me where ...

"Tell me where you've been ...
Maybe I don't want to know ..."
So the song, "The Story -- So Much Mine" went

But I did want to know
so 'where' I found
'Where' was 'where' I thought it'd be, no place good

Had I a gun,
jealous guy that I am
There'd been a dead soul or two at that 'where'

Nice guy that I am
'there'  no gun had I
"T'was on the Isle of Capri" love was lost

Poem Copyright 2014 Jimmiehov All Rights Reserved

Today I am linked to Marian's challenge found with The Real Toads (Link) Marian challenged us to write something brought to mind after listening to a song she knew, "So much mine."

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Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Pathetic fallacy


Crouching below the window, 
she cowered in reeking horror
The wind was voracious, 
the skies were screeching lightening bugs,
Giants' tools,  searchlight effect.  

"Oh pray that none ever finds me"
Was her sobbing cry.  
Between crashing thunder claps our girl vowed
She vowed to leave this place,     
Mother Nature prevailed, she'd go home

Poem copyright, 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Today I'm linked to the Real Toads, Kerry Says (link)

Kerry tells that 'pathetic fallacy' is a literary term for the attributing of human emotion and conduct to all aspects within nature.  I.e. leaves dance, dogs laugh, or when rocks seem indifferent. We should try this, I did a little here.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Stones, for? -- Open Link Mondays


Stones resemble us in various ways
Puffed up like lava ash or thick and dull
Shining bright like river bottom wet jade
Yet green in the gills when dry, rough and raw

Iron look, oxidized, yellow pallor
Large and small, heavy and light, young and old
Physical attributes all but do they?
Do they cry or feel sad when defiled?

Can they laugh, do they smile, or fall in love?
Love them we might but love never returned
Not made with a soul, the deadest of dead
Yet use them we will, they come in handy

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Photo and Poem Copyright, © 2013 and 2014 jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

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Jim's "Stone Poems",

Today I am linked with the Real Toads, Open Link Monday (link )

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Wednesday, May 07, 2014

Grandmother's Lace

Grandma's Present 

Every Christmas
Grandma gave us handkerchiefs
Girls, hand laced edges
Embroidered initials
for the boys.  Your grandmother?

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Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Today I am linked with Susie Clevenger of  Real Toads, Bits of Information

At the link above, Susie has an excellent summary of the history of lace.  Did you know that in the olden days the lace trade was a hot ticket to riches?  Much was smuggled across borders. Cheap child labor was prevalent in the industry. Prices were very high, etc, etc.

Our challenge by Susie was to write an original piece involving lace.  My Tanka poem was written with my iPad as we are still traveling.  It is true. My grandmother was wonderful!  She was also excellent at any type of needlework and sewing. 

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Monday, May 05, 2014

A book title poem -- Paradise (not)

Devil's picnic
A remarkable mother
Cocaine blues

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

I am linked today with the Real Toads, Open Link Monday
A book spine poem and picture for you today.  I hope I didn't offend anyone with this one. 
It is a little out of character with me but depicts a large mixed up segment of our world today.

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