Thursday, June 25, 2015

Voices Heard -- a Flash Poem

Voices Heard
old mother my dear
voices I'm to hear
slappeth thou my face?
to spit now they say
what bringeth thine ire?
ashes from the fire
I'm not yet a man
hot bark burned my hand
none to pull my hair
black with burns, a pair
mum to give hard hand,
voices who say, "Come"
_ _ _ _ _
Photos and Poem copyright 2015,
© jimmiehov, all rights reserved
Today I'm linked with "Words Count With Mama Zen,"
where Mom Z is telling us something new about the English language: 
"Today, we're going to get conservative . . . with our words.  A recent study by British researchers identified 23 "ultraconserved words" that have remained relatively unchanged since the Ice Age.    All of those 23 are cognates (words that have the same meaning and sound in different languages) in at least four of the seven Eurasiatic language families.  Translation: that's the 700 languages spoken from the British Isles to western China and from the Arctic to Southern India."  
Her instructions were, "So, want to do a little writing in the mother tongue?  Pick a few words from the "ultraconserved words" list and write a poem of 60 words or less."
I wrote my 'poem' including the title using a total of 55 words.   If my count is correct then I used 14 (underlined for you) different words or phrases from the list.  Mother and Hand were used twice.

You can read through the poem as written.  Or you can start with the first and then skip every other line.  It also will read independently starting with the second line and skipping every other line.  I dunno.

The pictures (click on one for a larger size view) I took in 2013 during a visit to the London Science Museum.  NASA has a wonderful exhibit there.  And it's a FREE museum!!

Here's the list: 

to give
man / male
to hear
to pull
to flow
to spit

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Sunday, June 21, 2015

I once had a dog named Adi -- here is an English Ode or similar poem

Ode to my underwear drawer
Oh drawer mine, extraordinary
Holder of all my most intimate wear
Socks 'n P J's too, most ordinary
Intimates hard to tell, I could not bear

Shorts and briefs, they covered my private parts
So near to me yet unmentionable
My prized attributes, they would never tell

Nestled deep, poised to hide David's fine arts
Leaking out, became inevitable
Blushing bride, blushing me.  Tolled wedding bells

_ _ _ _
Photos and Poem copyright 2015,
© jimmiehov, all rights reserved

Today I am linked with Manicddaily, aka Karin Gustafson, at her Garden challenge post, Sunday Mini-Challenge - Ode to the Quotidian  

Quotidian is an adjective meaning found in the ordinary course of events
The poem, an ABABCDECDE poem, English ode, is dedicated to my (could it be yours?) underwear drawer and its contents.

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