Saturday, September 14, 2019

A short Poem for the Weekend prompt, Groovy

I was running;
trying to dodge

I was running my paper route
trying to dodge water puddles
If one hit I'd cringe and then try
to do better the next few times

Sis couldn't come with this morning
little bug bit her ear she cried
She wasn't tough like a fellow
my kind--girls are made syrupy 

Syrupy I don't mind one bit
'cause I do like their company
Together we drive down the road
throwing papers 'feeling groovy'  

Simon & Garfunkel - The 59th Street Bridge Song (1967) (Feelin' Groovy).wmv  

"The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)"

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

Hello, lamppost, what'cha knowin'?
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't'cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in doo-doo, feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you
All is groovy 
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Marian in the Imaginary Garden, she authored the One Word Prompt, "Groovy", at
 - And with Sherry Blue Sky in the Poetry Pantry at
 - I wonder how many remember this song?  I do.  But then ...

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Friday, September 13, 2019

A Poem for Wild Friday

In my eyes he matches the gods

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you—any man whatever—
listening from close by to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that—I swear it—
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can't
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
a hold of me all over: I'm greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor
sweet thing like me can no longer be near though
without submitting and succumbing the temptation
But just a touch

only one touch when he's not looking on that
bulging bicep so there I've crossed the line
will he know  Know the way my heart is fluttering
Does he know 

like the humming bird wings and there's a
smile creeping across his brow going down
to his masculine accepting lips  Which are
quivering too out of control

waiting for me make a show of my timid desire
which I will honor with my regrets and distress
I uncross my spineless legs and run, run run
and not look back

not one glance—his end
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Sanaa Rizvi, Wild Friday at Poets United
 - Sanaa wants us to go wild with our version, an attempt to finish this unfinished poem.  The first four verses and the first line of the fifth were written by the ancient female author of Homer's era, Sappho, but she or our ancient poem keepers stopped there.
 - Others' versions are linked by our fellow writers at the link above.
 - What cha yua think?

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Tuesday, September 10, 2019

A short poem for "Get Listed"


the couple tried to be the latest
avant-garde in every way they could

assumptions were made clean it would be
affordable audacious combined

absence of malice their sole virtue
risqué aberration to their shame

a million sold clamor never stilled
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved

 - I am linked with Helen in the Imaginary Garden at 

 - Helen is playing the Toads' game of "Get Listed" where we are to write, using at least three (3) of the list of words which she prepared. 
 - There is no prize, no winner for this game.  Write very well and your kudos will give you a thrill.  I used nine of her words which I marked with "xx"s" and think my poem might be soso.

The word list, 
Aberration xx
Absence xx
Assumption xx
Audacious xx
Avant-garde xx
Clamor xx
Risqué xx
Shame xx
Virtue xx 

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Sunday, September 08, 2019

A Sour Poem, not my Norm

The Birds and Me

The birds are singing
but I dont hear
No I'm not deaf but
my head says no
They aren't calling me
from me they run

The birds are singing
but not to me
I can't stand feathers
they make me itch
They dont like me and
I dont like them

I'm not a Scrooge but
Santa must go
My friends like the birds
they stay away
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Sherry  Blue Sky hosting "The Poetry Pantry" at Poets United,

 - Sherry has hinted for a Cheerful World but I've had this song in my head before I woke up by the alarm this morning.
I generally have a smile on my face but I surely am not a bird lover.

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