Friday, June 02, 2017

A poem for make believe ~~ Paper Moons

 Paper Moons 
Now again have Paper Moons and
Cardboard Seas and Painted Rainbows
College girls with yellow dogs, most 
Bare foot, roller skates.  Cutoffs

Fellows with white VWs
Beetles with their folding cloth roofs  
Elvis and next come the Beetles,
Joplin, Me and Bobby McGee

Once again protests made legal
A fight for right with some lives lost
Kent State, John Lennon, your hero?
Against tyranny, war.  Shalom
Like "Back Then" now was gone, never
Would be the same. Super Seniors
Are stepping up to take their place
With Paper Moons, Painted Rainbows  

Gone forever those Paper Moons?
Who will step up, make us believe?

Janis Joplin / Me And Bobby Mcgee [Live] 1970 - YouTube

Working Class Hero - John Lennon
_ _ _ _ _

 - "Back When" for me was working as an Aerospace Engineer (no degree then) at NASA Houston Space Center and working for College Degrees, mostly at night.  I did have a 1962 BW Bug with a folding top sunroof which took me where I needed to go.  It would be replaced by a 1969 Ford Thunderbird and a 1971 Hondo Motorcycle. These vehicles were all used as were all my other vehicles except two, the last in 1967. 

My hair was collar length and I smoked, mostly a pipe.  There really was a long haired barefoot cutoff wearing young lady who sat beside me in Differential Equations class. She made her "A" and I made my "C". (Car list--scroll down just before the red Ford Pickup)("Back Then" girls who were my friends list)(Our wedding picture)

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday: It's Only A Paper Moon,

Fireblossom's instructions were in part, "Write something that makes us believe in something that isn't real (i.e. a Paper Moon that isn't real anymore?) ... Please make it a NEW poem or flash fiction."

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Sunday, May 28, 2017

Memory Poem, My Favorite Uncle Howard - Weekend Challenge

of Places and Persons

Memories can fail one
Memories can remind
Memories bring pleasure
Memories do not lie

Memories of a man
Man in the spring cornfield
He and this boy walked corn  
Hoes in hands they ambled

Cocklebur or milkweed
Beware green invaders
Our hoes will chop you down
Get their roots man would say

While walking the man would
Yodel and sing a song
One the boy wouldn't know
He'd stand amazed.  Radio?

Yes Country and Western
Their singers' voices loud
Man in corn, high pitch voice  
Boy tried to imitate

Memories of the man
Cornfield again, ripened
Leaves and stalks turned to brown
Shucking corn, harvest's good

Now walking rows again
Snapping each ear of corn
Away from its brown stalk
Tossing in the wagon

Two horses pulling slowly
Down those rows, knew their way
Stopping on command, wait
For man, boy, to catch up

Man was Uncle Howard
Most people didn't know
How well he could yodel
For sure to pre teen boy

Memory's last setting 
Hospital room, last days
He prayed for every nurse
Boy now man, last visit  

Memories last until
We remember no more
Uncles yodeling still
In Heaven's gold cornfields
_ _ _ _

 - This one is true.

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2010 and 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Weekend Mini Challenge: People and Places,

Kim's in part instructions:  "Today’s challenge is to write about a place through a person or a person through a place."  After I finished I notice the word, "Mini".  My poem sure isn't very mini.
Excerpt from my previous blog:

"Uncle Howard was Dad's youngest brother, two years younger than Dad. I felt that I was his favorite nephew; he called me "Jimmy." My best remembrance of him is that he could yodel. He is the only person I know or have known who could yodel. He yodeled good, very good. He would only yodel when nobody was around, except me.

Uncle Howard's favorite song was
Cattle Call:

"The cattle are prowlin'
The coyotes are howlin'
Way out where the doggies roam
Where the spurs are a jinglin'
And the cowboy is singin'
His lonesome cattle call
He rides in the sun'
Til his days work is done,
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
Singing his cattle call"

I still like to sing that song when nobody is around too. And I try to yodel. Uncle Howard never sang in public either. Not even in church. ... (More ... )"

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