Old Hat

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         That Old Hat 

That old hat had belonged 

Belonged to someone sad 

Sad because the hat was . . .

Well the old hat was lost 

Lost and left in the church 

Wedding's over I took 

A sad hat, took it with

I would never wear it 

Not a goof hat like this 

My sister told me scoop 

The hat had been there long 

Hadn't been claimed, dunno 

That was license for me 

For that hat I had plans 

"Don't tell Sis, my Secret" 

"When we leave leave it there 

On her hanger in back 

Low too where she won't see "

Will she tell what she did 

Surprise, surprise for her 

Then mail surprise for me  

A package in the mail 

From mysister, that hat 

Kept a day, sent it back 

Back and forth that hat went 

Don't know where it is now 

Who has it, we don't know 

. . . 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2025 

 - I am linked with Mary at "Whats Going On",  she wants for us to tell her our head gear story. 

 - Same story, earlier and more details here:  https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2013/12/six-word-saturday.html?m=0 

. . . 

Spilled Beans

 

Who's Spilling the Beans 

'Twas our little secret 

No one was to know, awk 

Every one on the street 

Now they all are talking 

Talking bout you and me 

Nasty sole he, she, told

Who's spilling the beans 

We know one of you 

Again now, once more spilled 

Who's spilling the beans 

We want this to stop, NOW 

Secrets ours, OURS ALONE! 

Who's spilling the beans 

One more time better not 

I'll tell y'all's mother 

. . .

 - Photo and Poem Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2025 All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked at dVerse with directions to write an Ubi Sunt poem; Laura is today's host of our "Meeting the Bar Tursday,  https://dversepoets.com/ (dated August 21, 2025)

. . .

Go or Not Go

   A Big Decision Made 

I'm standing on the side 

Beckons side of my bed 

Back to bed or stay up 

Small dilemma beckons 

I'm soothing the bed bar 

The bar put there for me 

Saves from another fall 

Day I couldn't get up 

She, my wife called some friends 

Four o'clock, morning called 

Laying on the floor stuck 

Two came and pulled me up 

Looking now at the bar 

Partner, wife still asleep 

Quick decision, bed called 

Back in bed, only eight 

Small pillow 'tween my knees 

Covers over my head 

Hope soon I'll be snoring 

. . .

(Note:  This is true, the reason I could not get up is that I cannot get on my knees, never crawl again is that both kneecaps have been broken and didnot heal, onlyCalcified. )

. . . 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2025 All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Melissa at dVerse with directions to write from I was and go from there. https://dversepoets.com/ (dated August 20, 2025)

  

..

Tin Man Troubles

     Tin Man's Problem 

Tin Man had troubles.  Rust was beginning to form on his limbs, all four.   Being a gardener of kind he turned to me for help.  Caught me on Saturday's visit to the city garden, famed Yellow Brick Road checking my shopping list.  I remembered my mother helping grandmother with the same problem only much worse, the elderly lady was cured of the rust in six days. 

Mother used her secret concoction, squeeze the juices in equal amounts.  Ingredients were simple, all from my garden. One fourth pint of each, mothers song, “The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape.”  Now five pints of sticky-like green, his rust should go away the second week of dally applications. 

Bless my mother's green thumb, her home remedy medicine worked with Tin Man, his rust was gone the second week. 

. . . 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright ©️ jimmiehov 2025 All Rights Reserved.

 - I am linked with Sanaa at dVerse, at https://dversepoets.com/2025/08/18/prosery-yvors-time-and-the-garden/ for the prompt lines, "The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape.”  ( From the poem “Time and the Garden.” )

 - Using Prose is to be this Prosery Monday and is not to be over 144 words. Mine is 144 words. 

. . . 

Tiny Beauty (Found)

This week, our optional prompt is asking us to write on something small but beautiful.  I  chose the tiny fruit fly. 

. . . 

    Battle of Giants Not 

My battle with the fruit fly 

Pretty, tiny, stealthy bug 

But I  smacked him good just now 

He landed on a white place 

Bottom of my coffee cup 

Down side up from yesterday 

The little buggers like white 

They'll settle bravely and search 

Search for what, must be some food 

Most times futtle smack attempts 

The smack comes a bit too late 

Stinging hand's only damage 

Or the imp was squashed to ooze

This time  dreadfully different  

Unknowingly a hero 

Life donated for my poem. 

. . . 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright ©️ 2025 All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with "Friday Writings" 191 at  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 --- getting the prompt there, it has links readers can use to read the other Writer's efforts. 

. . .