Wednesday, July 30, 2014


Mother, Why?
Mother, why do I have to go
Seeing doctors is archaic
Why can't we just Skype him right now
We'd better put on some lipstick 

Girl, not so fast, do you hear me
The doctor needs to see you there
Wants to thunk your knee, see you jerk
Look down your throat and in your ears 

I'll open wide and you can thunk
He can see it all on the Skype
My friends do all that plus they text
Send my heart rate, temp, and BP 

Don't be silly, get in the car
He needs a lot more for your school
Feel your skin and poke your tummy
Take blood and your pee, give you shots 

No, I won't go, don't tell me more
To your room! Text me when you'll go
- - - - -
Picture, Poem Copyright 2009, 2014, © Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Today I'm linked with Kerry at the Real Toads, Can You Hear Me? (link)

Kerry's challenged, "Our Challenge today is to consider this theme of alienation, what it means to really hear and respond to the needs of others ..."

The picture is of our Adi (beagle dog, may she RIP) on her way to the vet.  She knew where she was going and that really wasn't her first choice.  This picture was originally posted on my other blog, February 21, 2009, as Adi Can ... Have a hard day  (link)

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Sunday, July 27, 2014

Play it again -- Pick your fortune cookie

Good news!
Older man's worst fear laid to rest today
"No more zipper worries" the cookie told
But then,
Tea leaves read aloud by his dearest friend.
"Bain of mankind, dread of snaps comes to haunt"
- - - - -
Poem Copyright 2014, © Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Picture from 

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Friday, July 25, 2014

Friday with Hannah, a poetry day

Limestone peaks hidden by the green
Oh so lush, let's go in and hide
There in the park climb Tianzi
Mountain revered, named after saint 
Deep in China's Hunan Province
You and I can go in and hide
Aided by a farmer's spirit
We'll claim us a limestone tower 
Tianzi, "Son of Heaven", remote
We'll stay a year or two or more
Up towards heaven, above the clouds
We'll be alone in Buddha's shrine  

Picture credit: Facts Hunt web site
YouTube video credit: Tainzi Mountains
Poem Copyright 2014, © Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
 _ _ _ _ _

Today I am linked with Hannah at Real Toads, Transforming Friday with Nature's Wonders , where she introduced us to the Tianzi Mountains.  Our instructions were to "Bring any facet of this place that you wish!" 
In 2000 we visited China, spending 23 days there.  We were about five hours from Tianzi Mountain although closer to the range when we spent a day cruising on the River Lijiang (Li) among similar but shorter limestone peaks.  Awesome is about the only word I have for that day.


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Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Words Count

An Old Ford
An old flathead Ford
original, most
Alternator now
generator then
It makes twelve volts now
was six volts back when

Back in the 30's
up 'til '53
This one's a fifty-
one Ford pickup truck
Original most
color is two-ten
Cruising down Main Street
on Saturday night
Wife and dog up front
with the kids in back

_ _ _
Poem Copyright 2014, © Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Today I am linked (link) with Moma Zen at the Real Toads, Words Count
Notes: (1) We are to use 60 word, no more, no less.  Mine has 60 with the title.
.......... (2) This pickup not mine but it is for sale. 
.......... (3) I have two old Fords, a 1950 Ford Custom 2-door and a 1974 Mustang Two Ghia.  Plus my driving car is a 1998 Ford Mustang GT convertible. (Mustangs)(1950 Ford)

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Saturday, July 19, 2014

This poem is ...

This Poem is an Elephant, a Crawfish,  and a Golfing Man (a Golfer) (Putting)
This poem is a little reddened crawfish
This poem is a strong elephant
This poem is an old man puttering around

This poem has been crying
it wishes it had more love and affection than it gets
This poem is a doll, a toy waiting to be loved
it will sing and sing as long as her batteries are strong
This poem is a young miss, married for two years
but now she is a crawfish red from crying

This poem is big and strong
it is capable of showing much love and affection
This poem is also a doll, a toy who really is very handsome
It will sing with crocodile tears along with anyone who cries
This poem is a young fellow, married for two years
but who acts like an old lumbering elephant after the honeymoon ends

This poem is love, small and slowed
it is dawdling in slow motion when it should be hurrying
This poem is a figurine, a miniature statue of a golfer, putting
It is slow and steady. It likes to play its game more than to love
This poem is love, love that is puttering around now
And after two years that love is sputtering, very seldom showed.

This poem is a young lass, married two years, a puckered crawfish all red from crying
This poem is a young man, whose love life has gone stale, a lumbering elephant
This poem is love, sputtering love that seldom shows, old man love puttering around
- - - - -

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

Today I am linked (link) with Hannah at the Real Toads, Sunday's Mini Challenge
Monday Update:  I am also linking (link) with Kerry's Real Toads, Open Mondays posting

Hana wants us to write in a form she has devised and called it the Boomeranged Metaphor poem. The first set of three lines go out in " Create three, “This poem is a ____,” statements" and are returned at the end with some edification and amplification permitted and perhaps encouraged.
Additionally, upon the return, a metaphor has been developed between each line the first set of three and the final three.  You can learn more from the link above to Hannah's directions.

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Friday, July 18, 2014

Another me? (and another selfie)

My Other Me 

Is he merely brash and imposing
a sorry imposter of myself
Is he real, a mean and threatening man
one who's stolen my identity 

Not the man on the moon far away
far, in another world of his own
My friend saw him only yesterday
smiling on her TV she had said 

Did he have a beard, all shiny white
A lawyer telling his client's plight,
lady accused of killing her man,
who ran him down with her Mercedes? 

That was the one, but he isn't me
He's rich and famous, celebrity
People get us confused all the time
My doppelgänger I've never met 

- - - - - -
Pictures and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
 [click on a picture for a larger sized view]
In case you wonder, the bottom one REALLY is ME.
Today I'm linked (link) with the
Real Toads, Fire Blossom Friday
She said, "I want you to write about the other you. What if you had married X instead of Y? What if you had chosen a different path in life? If you had a hundred chances at living this life you're in, what might one of those lives be like? I ask only that your alternate self be possible; maybe not likely, but at least possible."

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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

An Ode to Mr. Williams

Mr. Tin Man and I discussed
the death of a dear friend of mine.
Tin Man and I traveled our road,
famous yellow road of gold bricks.
My friend Mr. Williams and I
traveled another road, his path.
A good man, family, friends, job, and
golf were on a path that he shared.
He doesn't walk that road any more,
Tin Man suggested, write an ode to him.

- - - - -
An Ode to Mr. Williams 

Everett Williams was a dear friend of mine
We played some golf and we talked up a storm
He loved the do-overs, his Mulligans**1**
I read and shared with him that a driver
for older persons might use their three wood
Then straight down the fairway went his drives
National Senior Games found him at third place**2**
He played his age, he was ninety-five
Everett died on June Seventeen this year
I learned of it through Googling on his name 

Surprised was I, we hadn't contacted
since his final Christmas card for last year
We had moved away, a hundred miles north
But still we played golf on the cooler days
His favorite pose was with a club in hand,
leaning over a pond fishing for balls
The last I knew, Everett was still driving
He drove to the grocery store, to his church,
and to his favorite golf courses
He'd bought a new car in two-eleven 

Everett was proud of his home on the creek
and loved to tell of his blue-bonneted lane
Once he invited a lady friend over
"Come see my blue bonnet pictures," he said
I asked him, had he any etchings to show
This age-old pick up line he didn't know
He once was the water commissioner,
office he held eight years when he was young
Everett loved politics, he volunteered
one time to be my campaign manager**3**

Everett was a widower for six years
His wife, Elma, died at age ninety
They'd been married for seventy-three
He loved his kids, was proud of seven grandkids
He was a fireman for thirty-eight,
he retired his volunteer job as chief
He loved his church and was a deacon there
I will miss my friend Everett, a good friend
My regret is that we didn't play more golf,
a lot of golf after we moved away

- - - - -

Picture of Tin Man and Jim on the Yellow Brick Road and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Everett Williams picture was on his obituary published by the Jeeter Funeral Home (link)
 [click on a picture for a larger sized view]

Today I am linked with Susie Clevenger at the Real Toads, the Yellow Brick Road

**1** Mulligans in golf allow a golfer to have another hit in place of his previous bad shot (link)
**2** Everett place third in the 2013 Summer National Senior Association Games, golf men 95-96 (link). For about 30 years Mr. Williams has been using his three wood instead of his driver.  Before that his hits off the tee were going all kinds of places or else he would miss the ball.
**3** I ran for a newly created Justice of the Peace position.  I won the primary but lost in the general election 49+ percent to my opponent's 50+ percent.

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Saturday, July 12, 2014

Before I Die: when I heard the ghosts -- Writing challenges

. . . Before I Die;
. . ... . when I heard the ghosts
Setting: (from a poem, Rain, as written by Claribel Alegría)
"... memories: the reedy voice of the servant telling me tales of ghosts ... Rain is falling and memories keep flooding by ... "**1**

I wanted the voices brought, and memories of my life which come flooding by, to be written in this poem.
My Poem: 

. . . Before I Die;
. . ... . when I heard the ghosts

I heard those ghosts a lot from my old cronies now gone.
Those retired too late, who died before a year was up.
I'll not do that said I.
I will see the world
before I die. 

I traveled here and there, all over Europe nine times.
No countries I missed that I want to see.
Been to Australia and New Zealand,
Central America,
though the Panama canal,
most of Canada, 
China for a month, 
and all fifty
of the United States. 

I heard those ghosts, a lot from my dad, may he RIP.
He told me he had wanted to be a lawyer, the very best.
But then my Grandpa asked his help, later he was too old.
I'll do that for my dad I said,
I can do that
before I die. 

I went to school (had sat out eleven years), enjoyed every minute.
Years, eleven more, sitting in the back of the classroom with the bare-
footed hippies, their yellow dogs waiting at the foot of the stairs.
My loves I touched not,
they, doing their calculus in the back 
while pretending to listen as the
British literature teacher
rambling on.
Enjoyed it all and
had my degree,
before I died.  

I heard those ghosts, "they sat beside me, the ghosts
and the bed creaked, that purple-dark afternoon
when I learned you were leaving forever." **2**

Those ghosts told me of marriage, how to make it last
But too late now, she was leaving forever. 

I had heard their voice, those ghosts, she was gone forever.
So I lived my life with a new freedom,
bought a motorcycle,
was immersed in my school,
Sundays at the park, listening
to bands playing **3** under the trees,
or to poets on their stumps.
I did that,
I was alive. 

I heard those ghosts, memories of my mom,
she always said "you won't find a nice girl in a bar."
Told how she'd like for me to have a mate. 

So I went along my way, for sure I wasn't looking for a mate,
too busy with my job, play, and university work for that. 
But one day a young lady was waiting for me after school,
waiting with my friends at the table.
I often thought after that,
"how could I ask her out?"
Baseball was the answer,
she went, with me and my four.
Six months later we were wed.
Again, till death do. 

I hear those ghosts, often while driving in the rain
or laying in the bed, staying there until past eight.
I'm retired.  But life goes on, what the Hey? 

They tell me of the tidbits of life like when my beloved dog died,
a new grandchild is born, or another is wed.  How life does go on.
One, a little scary, asked if I was ready to met my Maker.
After some soul searching
I thought I was not,
was too busy for all that.
Surely there is time
before I die 

But that Voice I heard wouldn't give up, it was a Ghost's voice different
than any of those before.  I remember that day He said, "Behold,
I stand at the door and knock," Then He asked if I would let him in.
I said yes, that I was sorry for all before
and knew that He was the one,
the only one, 
who could save me
from all my sin.
Would He please? 

I am thankful for all those ghosts who filled me in
on all the things that I had forgotten.  All the things
my mother asked me to do, above all to heed the Lord.
Well, He said "Yes, Heaven waits for you,"
and now I will live
still after my death.
I'll obey Him as I can,
and trust Him
until I die.

- - - - - -
Picture and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
 [click on a picture for a larger sized view]
- - - - - -

This poem is linked with Herotomost at the Real Toads, Friday Challenge (Link # 1)
and with Grace at the Real Toads, Sunday Mini-challenge (Link # 2)

1)  Herotomost's challenge was to use a refrain technique (link) that he has used in several of his poems.  Although his (check them out at Link # 1 above) were an appendage of the prose nature, they can also be incorporated into the poem in either verse or prose. 
 -- My refrains pretty well cover the writer hearing the ghost or ghosts.  The message from the ghost(s) helps explain the setting of the situation in the verses that follow.
2)   [**1**  and **2** ]Grace's challenge was to write a new poem based on one of Claribel Alegria's two poems, Sorrow or Rain. Or a part would do.  I chose the part of Rain, copied below, to use as a springboard and prompt for my poem.
--The excerpt from Rain (you can read all of the poems at Link # 2 above): 

**1** ... memories:
the reedy voice
of the servant
telling me tales
of ghosts.

**2** They sat beside me
the ghosts
and the bed creaked
that purple-dark afternoon
when I learned you were leaving forever ...

3) **3*The ZZ Top group (link) was one of the many fledgling singing bands out under all those trees in the Houston, Texas, parks. 
-- ZZ Top got their start in Houston in the late sixties, the time I was there with my motorcycle on Sunday afternoons.
4)  This poem is true to me, as I, the writer, relates to various time (lives) in my life.

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