Sunday, November 27, 2016

Hot Dog stuff for a Sunday Challenge Poem

[click picture for large size][click here for the hot dog super sized]

Weiner on a stick 

Life for one has evolved from hot dog  

Sliced on bread with catsup and mustard 
To a weiner on a stick, corn dog 

There was a spell, hard times cast upon 

Family budget low for food. Our one 
Had a ration of only two dogs 

He stretched those dogs, sliced each into four 

Made eight, laid them straight on bread folded 
Catsup in the valley, poor folks pride 

Better times came for the one, oil strike? 

Whatever, nothing now made at home 
Catsup nor bread, corn dog from the store 
 _ _ _ _ 

Poem copyright, Jimmiehov,2016, All Rights Reserved

Today I'm linked with Kim Russell at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Weekend Mini-Challenge:  Cooking up a Storm; 
Kim wants us to write a 'four tercet' poem about cooking. Read more for further directions at the link above.   

Note:  I made the cheese hot dog above, it is quick to make and 'only' has 310 calories.  More of my hot dog blogs can be found here,

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Friday, November 25, 2016

An Artistic Interpretation 'writing'

[click picture for larger view]
[I'm riding at "Blogstock '08"] 

What manner white horse

White horse with a horn
That'd be a unicorn
Someone's fantasy
Look again how does he stand
On a pole--toy store stick horse
 _ _ _ _

Photo and Poem copyright, © 2015 and 2016 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved

I'm linked with Margaret at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Artistic Interpretations

1. Margaret has introduced us to Carol Law Conklin, Batik Artist. One of her prints is called "The Last Unicorn."  We have permission to copy and post some of her works. Tomorrow I will post that one here. In the meantime you can see it and Ms. Conklin's other works at the link above. 
2. I had planned to write differently, of a youngster finding a real Unicorn even though they have gone into extinction years and years ago. But my time for writing has been taken from me, hence this quickly keyed Tanka above.
3.  Time has become very precious again, I may not get all of your comments return. I am sorry for that. I do try to read your writings though. 

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Sunday, November 20, 2016

The Cross-roads ~ Micro Poem

What to do?
Comes fork in the road 
What will we do, what to do
We must split, your pick

  [click on either picture for larger view,
click again better still]
Let us go up the middle
Break the cookie, split the pie
 _ _ _ _

Bottom Photo and Poem copyright, © 2016 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved
Top Photo copyright, © 2006 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved
In that earlier writing the dog (my beloved deceased Adi) made
the decision, it was go up the middle.  We enjoyed the walk
through the taller grass and past the bushes. This walk had
to detour around a golf course and an algae covered pond. 
,  (more my other blog Adi and/or walking posts)
I am linked with

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Thursday, November 17, 2016

A challenge poem for today ~~ written for "music with meow"

I'd like for you to read the 'poem' before you play the video.  Thanks.

 Featuring Zack de la Rocha (of Rage Against the Machine)

Super Cat

Super Cat awoke one morning 
on the wrong side of the bed. 
Kicked the dog and went back to bed. 
This Hip Hop Music, has it gone to his head?  
He used to be sweet and mellow, yellow kitty. 
What is going on?

Who called the cops, he's done no wrong?  
Take 'em down!  He's bigger than them all, 
bigger than their car.  Dragon breath spray 
might turn them around, he'll see. 
Burned the car, cops and all. 
Now he's in deep trouble.

Joined by his friend, she saw what he done.  
Bad!  Cop burning is touchy, even for us.
Bad luck! Black Cats bring bad luck too, 
literally and even if the cat is your 
best friend. Oh dear, more?
Oh dear, close his eyes. 

When he awoke again he was on the floor, 
Black Cat was there as well. She was 
sleeping, head on our hero's shoulder, 
licking his paws in her sleep. 
His toys were scattered amongst,
police car toy not burned.

Was there any meaning to this bad dream?
Super Cat might never know. 
Scary but to shrinks he'd never see. 
Change his music he must. 
Yellow Mellow will do fine. 
One life's surely gone, eight to go.
_ _ _ _

Poem copyright, © 2016 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved
Video copied from Marian at the link below.
I am linked with Marian at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Music with Meow.

Marian suggested that we watch and listen to the two videos on here post (above link), with the object of gaining inspiration for writing from our viewing.

I'm also linked with Sandee at her "Feline Friday" here, (she has a lot of pretty cats linked)

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Tuesday, November 15, 2016

A Tuesday poem, 'Keeping a fire'

The fire's gone out

Oh, my dear, the fire has gone out
 Can we start it again or not
It doesn't seem it had a chance
 Logs are plenty, an ember not

It will take a match, kindling, more
 Another bad start?  Shall we chance?
Not start at all, salvage the wood?
 I say flip a coin, winner choose
_ _ _ _
Photo and Poem copyright, © 2016 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved

I am linked with Marian at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platfom.

Marian's said we can use any poem previously written or we can write a new one.  I opted for a new writingHer theme is "Many of us are struggling with darkness; let us endeavor to keep a light ablaze in the Garden."

My writer doesn't seem to be keeping very well with the theme.  "Flipping a coin" is an antiphrase* to her suggestion, "let us endeavor."


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Saturday, November 12, 2016

Sunday Mini-Challenge ~~ a poem, Life's Ups and Downs

Life's Ups and Downs;
when will stabbleness come?

Life has its ups, life has its downs 
We all like the ups, hate the downs 
Chances you were born into down 
Poor parents eking their living 

Where was your silver spoon that day
Olden days, you're more likely down
Down where you rode in a rusting 
Ford Model A's rear window shelf

Roof leaking, water pouring in 
Floor boards were rotting, smoking car
Had rice and beans or bread, breakfast 
Mom's cheese was making on back porch 

Your doctor's bills hadn't been paid
Drove to Grandma's on Mondays 
Mom would wash, you'd schmooze with Grandma
Then home, clean sheets for side porch bed 

One room school beckoned you. Recite
Recite ABC's from long bench 
Listen, eighth graders Poe recite 
Soon you'll know "Pit and Pendulum" 

By high school things might be better 
Mom was working, Dad's promotion 
Store bought clothes, am I now the King
Make the football team, break a leg

Seemed to be a down but then not 
The kids would autograph your cast 
A hero for days, Sally wrote 
Then she moved away.  Save your cast

Sweet Sal left, didn't go away 
Every night I dreamed of Sally 
(Facebook, where were you hiding then?)
I never did see her again 

to be continued, more to come 
(Might fill a couple of volumes
things got settled, time, older, up)

- - - -

Photo and Poem copyright, © 2016 Jimmiehov, All rights reserved

I am linked with Brendan MacOdrum at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Sunday Mini-Challenge: Still Points --
_ _ _ _

This poem has given me peace, not because of it's words, but that the time that I memorized it in grade school was a very peaceful time in my life:

Abou Ben Adhem

By Leigh Hunt 1784–1859 Leigh Hunt 
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

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Friday, November 11, 2016

Challenge poem ~~ for "I felt the earth move"


On the overpass;
moving, shuddering

Here we sit like birds on a wire
The wire's trembling, bad. I follow
My seat is trembling, the mirrors
are vibrating. I'd wear ear plugs 
if I had some, the bass wins out 

Sitting here on this overpass
Bridge shudders, mocking trucks below
I'm waiting for traffic to start
Watching my mirrors, they quiver
"Piano Man" doing his thing

The man behind is waiting too
Watching his mirrors keep the beat 
Wishing for traffic's start again
Knows my radio won't be hushed
Another bird, stuck behind me 

[click pictures for full screen] [click here for very large size]
_ _ _ _

Top Photo and Poem copyright, Jimmiehov 2016, All Rights Reserved

Bottom Photo copyright, Jimmiehov 2007 (link), All Rights Reserved -- First posted on "CUT AND SHOOT, TEXAS 77306 -- A guided picture tour", (link).

I'm linked with Fireblossom at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, I Feel The Earth Move;

The poem is supposed to be inspired by Carole King's song called "I Feel The Earth Move."  Carol's situation in her song is upbeat, from being in love, we are to think of being let down

It's been a long time since I've been literally let down so I was prompted to write of my world literally shaking from a very loud car stereo on an overpass which shook from the busy traffic speeding along below.  The bridge shakes from below, the car mirrors keep the music beat when the radio is played full blast.  My human reaction was of the fellow in the car behind who didn't particularly care for my loud music playing.

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Sunday, November 06, 2016

I'm Bored ~~ A ditty for "Play it Again" challenge

I'm Bored;
I want off this train

I'm bored, I want off this train
This train is going nowhere
Nowhere that I want to go
Please let me off, stop the train 

The seats are dirty and old
The carpets are soiled with milk
Milk train stops at every town
Stops where I don't want to go

This train is slow, slowed with age
I'm no spring chicken, I'll go
You ride this train all you want
I'm getting off the next stop

There's a new train in our town
It takes me where lights are bright
Where I've been wanting to go
I liked you once but no more

_ _ _

Poem copyright, Jimmiehov 2016, All Rights Reserved

Photo is a "Print Screen" copy of Boredom by Kenia Cris found at The Sunday Challenge ~ Featuring Kenia Cris, March 3, 2012, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads;

I'm linked today with Kerry O'Conner at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Play It Again, Toads! ;

And again on Tuesday, I linked with Kerry O'Conner at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  This time for the Tuesday Platform (link).  My train riding can also apply to politics, stay with the system or ride with the supposedly to be new ride.

 (1) At "Play it Again" we are to go back to past Garden days and write for one of three suggested posts or another oldie.  I chose to write my poem, "I'm Bored", based on Kenia's art at the first link above.
 (2) Kenia Cris can be found in  various social media places, use Google to find them.  Her poetry currently is to be found here,
 - Some of her photographic art can be found here,

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Tuesday, November 01, 2016

A "November Pilgrim Girl" poem with a picture to color

 . .. . . . . Courtesy of "FreePrintable[dot]net", a freebie

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days*
(Robert Frost, My November Guest)

Color Me

Color me the hues of your mid Autumn
 People will know my name is November 

November with pilgrim's hat, royal black
 The hat will tell the world of my values
Values we stand for still, banned from U.K.
 Standing for good teachings of the Bible

Color my dress to match the harvest, corn 
 Fill my orange bucket, a Halloween 
leftover, with frothy crystal white, frost 
 Left hand holds a shining star, colored bright

My stockings white with red and yellow bands
 Can't forget the shoes, shiny black, brown soles 
My hair will be blonde, heavy yellowish 
 Skin still summer rose, cheeks especially

Trees are yellow and red, shining slightly
 Walnuts dropping around, ripe, dulling green 
Clouds a few, dirty gray, no snow just yet 
 Let the sun be cooling, goldish orange

The ground is brown with wilted grass, dying 
 Green grass under the bench, soft on the feet
Color the bench 'park bench color', you choose
 Handsome lad come sit by our Pilgrim girl 
_ _ _ _ 

Photo* and Poem copyright, Jimmiehov 2016, All Rights Reserved

I am linked with Marian at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform --

(1) Poem in it's entirety is on the Imaginary Garden site, linked.
(2) The coloring picture is a "Print Screen" taken from Click on the picture to make it larger, copy it, print it out and color to suit your own choices.  I received it as a part of my subscription to "FreePrintable[dot]net" concerning coloring Halloween letterhead pictures and books for youngsters. This one was free.  I use their free calendar templates for a monthly newsletter calendar. 
From the link above you can navigate their site and get your own free subscription.

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