Saturday, February 22, 2020

A fog and dog Poem for the Weekend

    Day of Meeting

Another dismal foggy day
Seems more and more started that way
Fog surrounding each object seen

That was outside but more so in
In her heart and in her being
Each organ coated slimy fog

Her mind surrounded with the stuff
Fed by her eyes and ears--portals 
What she couldn't see hoped she heard

That day it happened again dim
Blind in fog she feared what would come
Patter of stealthy feet she heard

Panting closing ever louder
Shrinking back her hand extended
Slime coated warm touch foggy wet  

Gentlty reluctantly once more
What she couldn't see nor hear
A different feel was meeting her

Feelings alone feeding her mind
She feared the worst from what she felt
Warm body covered soggy hair

Nothing could she imagine loomed
Panting slimy being to mind
A mind fog coated failing her

Did she hear a feeble growl close
More like a muffled howl in pain
Here a hungry stomach and heart

Slowly her fog-stricken mind came
Came into play adding its touch
Touch higher lower up and down

Four legs supporting tail that wagged
Cold wet nose hairy pointy ears
Feed him some of her bread make friends

She'd had dogs before different here
This one came to her in great need
Sensed her need as well clever beast

Trudging home though the fog they went
There to see what each had gotten 

    Wolf Dog (named by Jim)
    Photography by Sarolta Ban
    View website HERE
 _ _ _ _ 
 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 
 - I'm linked to Sunday Muse with Carrie Van Horn at

 - Click the link above to visit the photo that tickled my muse this morning for my write.  And click it also to read how some other writers wrote to the photo

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Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Dream garden not -- a tribute Poem

The Opened Door

The day I found the opened door
I don't know how that came to be
Always seeing the garden there
That's one place I wanted to go

I have been seeing flowers bloom 
Rose's red, thick, some pink and firm
Irises of many colors
That open door was my invite

So out I came freedom beckoned
Down I  walked my loved path of bricks
Where flowers were I couldn't find
Two yellow iris two plain white

The pretty fountains had gone dry
One mechanical sunflower
Twas hanging on an iron pole
Books never read library locked

Walk the path 'til at the corner
Back through open door deflated
Now in my cell through my window
Four small flowers growing for me 

[a poem tribute 
to what was not]

 _ _ _

 - Photos and
Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All  Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Rommy at Weekly Scribbles,

- I did visit this garden, it was at the hospital where my SIL who had just had a stroke is recieving therapy.  I had been wanting to visit, I like to see what various gardeners' dreams have ended up being.
 - Disapointment followed as we, in the southern coastal area of Texas, have stayed green and have flowers blooming, but NOT in north Louisiana.

 - I am not and NEVER been incarcenated except for the 17 years I spent at home.

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Sunday, February 16, 2020

Girl on a scooter

Girl on a scooter
where do you go
Couldn't be cuter
I love you sooo

With room for double
when I'm with you
Me for your buddy
envies my brood

Flying through the night
brown hair trailing
I'm hanging on tight
close those railings

Riding your scooter
queen of the streets
Girl on a scooter
so glad you're mine
_ _ _

 - Photo and Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2 and 2020, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Sanaa Rizvi  in  the Writer's Pantry  at

 - The photo was taken in 2006 while we were traveling, Sicily and Amalfi,  Italy,  for four weeks (plus one in Provence, France).
 - When  I was in El Paso in the U.S. Army for five years and the three years at an Air Force Satellite Tracking Station I rode my Vespa scooter as a second car and for pleasure.

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