For "Her Kind" -- a Poem for the Sunday Muse

 

    Banished 

Banished she was, 

banished from her old 

stump on the corner 

The stumping corner 

where she'd paid her dues 

Dues that hurt, dues for 

audiences' pleasure 

Limited to what she could say 

and still stump from that old place 

place on a corner of 

London's Hyde Park 

She'd talk of women's rights, 

rights of the poor to survive, 

rights to choose church of choice, 

and rights to change one's xxx 

Oh there were others too 

unpopular stances she'd take 

Even then needed a permit 

city of London, to stump there, 

there in the city of freedom 

So she moved her stance to 

a field held by an uncle 

Someone's uncle 

a man she didn't know

didn't know and couldn't find 

Permit not needed now 

out of London's Hyde park 

Tell it like she likes, 

tell it like it really is and/or 

like it should be 

Her audiences will come 

hot chocolate when it's cold 

coffee and scones then too 

Ice cold tea and ice cream

when it's hot, sandwiches always 

Her "kind of people" coming now 

more will be soon as word gets out 

Where to find her new stump 

where the goodies for tummies are 

Look, see, they're coming now 

Fern's on her fingers topics, 

reminders for the day, and 

make sure "her kind" are voting 

Outside Hyde Park, one "corner's" gate (November, 2022) 

 

A walkway inside Hyde Park, 11-2022

 

Taken in 2013 inside Hyde Park, London, U.K.

Same scene as above, November, 2022 
[click on any picture, once, or twice for larger viewing]

     _ _ _    

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved   

 - I am linked with Carrie for the picture prompt, The Sunday Muse #251, 

   https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/03/sunday-muse-251.html

.. 

Birds, birds, so many Birds ~~ a Poem for the Friday Writings

Birds of a Feather; 

    light as a feather 

Birds of a feather stick together

Birds that I love, feed and talk with them

They come to my place, sit on my fence

Sing from my trees, in pairs or in flocks

Birds of a feather have a problem

Their problem is I don't like feathers

Feathers are nasty, sticky, oozie

On the birds they are beauty makers

Thinking Flamingos, Peacocks, et al

But feathers I haven't touched in years

So when they nest in my tree what then

Who will take the feathers when they leave 

"Light as a feather," blow all over 

    _ _ _ 

 - Photos and Poem Copywrite, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved  

 - I'm linked with Rommy for the Prompt phrase at the Friday Writings #68 at  

    https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/ 

Notes: 

 - Rommy has invited us to write about what comes to mind when we hear the phrase “light as a feather”. 

 - Many birds came, several times, flocks sitting up in my backyard tree.  I don't know what kind they were.

.. 

Play time remembered -- -- a Poem for dVerse Poetics

I let Adi (aka Duke for this poem) pick our route. 

She likes the au naturel places

  A Place and a Space 

A place I still remember 

it's often in my mind 

A place where me and my 

dog could come and play 

A place where I could hide 

hide from folks and worry 

The place remains, there still 

the place where rabbits play 

But I no longer can go 

nor the dog, she's long dead 

The space is there as well 

we just don't go there either 

The space is a long long hill 

a place to sled when there's snow 

The space is in pasture land 

a place to ride my horse 

The space is smooth with hay grass 

a space to ride full gallop 

A place for small boys to come 

down the hill a long walk 

A place of solace for one 

 he and the dog can play 

Smoke a cigarette without 

adults telling no no 

A place to invite sister 

let the sister smoke one 

One cigarette made her sick 

she swore off smokes for life 

A swell place to get naked 

where no one else can see 

A place with water to wade 

barefoot pants rolled or off 

A place to slice down the banks 

dust clouds followed like smoke 

A place, wade through the tunnel 

'neath the road to neighbor's lake 

School program now, Santa said 

"I saw you down by my lake 

At a place seen, should not play 

caught, Santa belief left  

A place now here to tell, end 

end with the old Buick 

A place where half in buried

dirt, that car I could drive 

Buick, rusted sides, no top 

wooden steering wheel gone 

A place, Duke my dog and I 

drove all over the world 

The place is there still, alone 

only rabbits go there now 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm am linked with Ingrid

 at dVerse Poetics,    

    Poetics: Poetry of Place and Space | dVerse (dversepoets.com)    

Notes:

 - Ingrid has asked, "I urge you to write the poetry of the places and/or spaces which inspire you the most. It does not have to be natural scenery: choose a cityscape or even a cinema or shopping mall if you prefer. I simply want to know how place and space move you, and which places and spaces mean the most to you." 

 - This may be the last of having Ingrid to host with her such great ideas as her work is going to be more demanding of her time.  We will miss her.  

 - To read other's writings, click here