[Most any photo will be shown as a Larger view if you click on the picture.
It might become larger still if you click on it again.]
The Visitor Came
The day the visitor came
A fuzzy little guy, brown
He looked hungry, we fed him
All vegetables, our surprise
A hungry guy sort of thin
We talked a bit just chit chat
He then proceeded to tell
Tell of his life's hardships;
"Born in the wild, jungle home
But now on city streets"
We asked him had he a place
He said "no kind folk, I don't"
Now family conference
If you're nice you can stay here
He has been here ever since
"One problem, I have four buds
They've street people too, we five
Dawny Duck, Frosty Snowman,
Bunny Rabbit, Teddy Bear
Nice children, sleep in one bed
All five of us need a home"
I've another,monkeycaged
I fear he seems to like that
Swinging in his cage all day
Passersby come, they applaud"
Visitor Tig, was the best
Nice kid and so were the rest
Even so was the monkey
But he's not want to escape
Well fed, much loved, all for free
_ _ _
Note: I've rewritten this poem today, January 21, 2023. If you read it yesterday it had Tig and his friends, along with the monkey, being taken from the wilds before being adopted into the home of the writer of the poem. I have saved it but now it is much nicer, almost cute, than before.
This little fellow greeted us every morning at our hotel while we were staying in HuehueTenango, Guatemala for two weeks. At the video end we were sharing hands.
- Photo, Video, and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, 2007 and 2023, Respectfully, All Rights Reserved
- I am linked with Rosemary at the Friday Writings #60, at
Me on our Alaska 2005 cruise excursion to the Yukon [click here for larger view]
Sunny day, I drive up to North Yukon's greenery, yellow dandelions andpurple violets. Spring had sprung, trees were green, shimmering water in streams and lakes was clear sky blue. The trees' wet and shiny green new leaves shimmered too; the firewood turning gray they'd save it for next fall. (50)
My old truck helped the scene, its fenders rusting green, trusty old Ford pickup made nineteen-forty-one. Put me in the picture, driving clothes gave semblance of humanity's warmth. Viewers would want to join blues in jeans and jacket, red and white shirt, white shoes. (44)
Bumper, bed boards, and chrome Fences, siding and roof, propane tank and faucets, with the chair all blend in. Artists call them fillers. My painting brush goes wild with colors abounding. Seems as everything I do is stitched with its color.(41)
The brush does not mind, it enjoys the pozazz. (9)
Notes:
1. I think this would stand alone without illustrations, what say you?
2. My Grandfather H had an old truck of this model, real pretty back then.
I rode with him a lot, hauling his stud horse around to visit the neighbors.
_ _ _
- Photo and Poem Copryight, Jimmiehov 2023, All rights Reserved
- I'm linked with MSJADELI IN PROSERY for dVerse Prosery at
-We were instructed to use the phrase of W.S. Merwin’s line of poetry, "everything I do is stitched with its color. Our directions were to write a poem with 144 words or less, I chose the 144 challenge, the paragraph ending numbers are the number of words in its write.
- Click here for a showing of links to the others' writings
You will have to make up your own mind. Just read here first, then visit my blogs and Jim1Jim1 YouTube to figure me out. (Some blogs are unlisted but are accessible if you can find them.)
