Wearied Artist -- a Poem for dVerse Poetics

“Portrait of Halvor John Schou” painted in 1911 by the artist Thorvald Hellesen (1888 – 1937)

   I Was Tired 

I was tired and weary 

Painting day and night 

Pictures of people 

Animals Vegetables 

Fruit and Trees 

And more 

Never could get to my 

Hearts desire 

Painted bolts of  cloth 

Sides of cars 

Lunch  boxes 

And sacks 

Finally got so bad 

Was painting 

Walls of the . . . 

Of the house 

Upstairs 

And 

Down 

My misses said 

"You painted your 

Last straw 

Now that you've 

Painted your 

Selfie 

Three D 

On the wall" 

I used to enjoy 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo prompt furnished by Lillian at dVerse Poetics,  it is a portrait by the artist Thorvald Hellesen (1888 – 1937) 

 - Read more about Lillian and Thorvald Hellesen at Lillian's dVerse prompt page, 

https://dversepoets.com/2023/05/23/an-artist-gets-his-due/ 

 - You can read how others have written when inspired by Hellen's pictures here 

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Man with the Keys -- a Write for the Sunday Muse

On my way 

I'm flying my way to eternity

God furnished this silver beast of the sea 

I'm passing over where I had used to live 

Now high in the sky not allowed to dive 

That means there really is no turning back 

Peered into my tube those behind I see 

Distant relatives not waving at me 

They've decided to stay and not to go 

Another winter stay--play in the snow 

Fearful and masked for them it's too late now 

Some are trying to come up anyhow 

Their future I don't know--for sure they'll bow 

They've waded in the pond to have a dip 

Saw sister doing--saw sense not a bit 

Friend Peter at the door--he has the key 

Others struggling like scare crows they can't move 

Stuck in the ground to ride their earthly poles 

Wings won't fly that way--only to the east  

Their need like sister's silver flying beast 

Stuck tied to the ground will never get loose 

Comes the new dawn skyscrapers turn to trees 

The forest gives those with a light the creeps 

Worms are scurrying underground to hide 

Wait until dawn try the problem to find 

Darkness--Moon, Sun, and shining light go out 

All doors are locked there's no way to go up 

Masses crowd into the hall--push and shove 

Safety inside? This isn't really right 

Outside there seems to be no help or light 

Friend Peter minds the door--he has the key 

Tombstones fallen and graves to fill 

Emptied by beasts--they've silver wings and gills 

We're going to Peter, man with the keys 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Pictures and Photo furnished by Carrie Van Horn for our inspiration at the Sunday Muse #247,  

     https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/02/sunday-muse-247.html 

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Around and Around - a write for Friday Writings

 - Rommy has invited us to use ‘pivot’ (or any variation of the word) in our poetry or prose.  Pivot:  NOUN -- the central point, pin, or shaft on which a mechanism turns or oscillates.  central shaft fulcrumaxis axleswivelpinhub  

 To see, read, other "spinning" writes I have posted go to the link below: 

 https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/search?q=top 

 

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Ceiling Pivot; Palace Prison 

    Perched way up high 

It's hot up here     

    Ceiling fan my perch 

Can't scratch my nose     

    Sleeping most times 

Sans sleeping pills     

    Hide from the light 

My eyes are trained     

    Turned on at dusk 

Spot intruders     

    'til comes midnight 

They'd best not stay     

    When nights are hot 

Might sweat a lot     

    Ceiling fan goes on

Blades pivoting     

    Cools the air 

I hang on tight     

    Turns round and round  

Blades turning fast     

    Hanging on tight 

Don't dare get down     

    Don't want to fall 

No one to catch     

    Spin 'round the light 

Until it stops     

Note:  This is a four-verse, four-syllable-per-line write.  You can read four ways, down each column separately as single writes, down one way followed by down the second, or across the page, not minding the gap.  

 - - - 

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 Here we have a view of a ceiling in a bedroom. This was while we toured the Royal Yacht Britannia during our visit to Edinburgh, Scotland. 

 While there we found this pretty stuffed bear riding on top of a ceiling fan in one of the bedrooms. We have no explanation for why it was there.  

Outside there were a few clouds, see the pictures at the bottom.  Our daughter below, KP, was with us for this overseas visit.

[large picture] [super sized]

 [large picture] [super sized]

 I have previously posted the items below the Note and the Ceiling Fan above on Friday 17, 2008, when I participated in the Sky Watch activity.  That group is still going except I would get sooo many comments that I could not afford the time taken to answer on the other's posts.

http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2008/10/skywatch-friday-my-fourteenth-at-top-of.html 

Other Participants and How to Have Your Own Skywatch

- Poem Copyrite, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

- I am linked with Rommy (see her above directions) at the Friday Writings at  

    https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2023/02/friday-writings-62-pivot.html 

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Card Queen - a Little Poem for Sunday Muse

 

     My Queen

I looked into the deck for relief 

The Queen of Hearts quickly came to me 

Turns out she'd been appointed to me 

To me as my loving guard angel 

As if there really is such being 

Not superstitious.  I don't believe 

What I get I've earned, angel's lacking 

But I'll keep my Queen, all mine all mine 

I'll keep her in my pretty green box 

In that box I've kept my treasures loved 

My firsts, baby spoons to wedding rings

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photos from Carrie at the Sunday Muse #232, 

  https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/10/sunday-muse-232.html?m=1 

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Morgan Freeman - a short Iregular Ode in Tribute

 Morgan Freeman place in my mind 

Forever you're my favorite  

Favorite male actor laureate 

Chauffeur supreme I remember 

Driving Miss Daisy everywhere 

Never complaining movie wise 

Assigned an undignified role 

Yet awards galore say, "Bravo"

 _ _ _ 

Addendum:                                    

Old man of my generation 

While you're still working I'm retired 

Upcoming movie: A Good Person

 _  _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Carrie at the Sunday Muse #231 for the picture prompt at 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/10/sunday-muse-231.html?m=1#comment-form 

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Tracks are Gone Now - a Quadrille for dVerse

"Box Car Art" Photo by Jimmiehov 2015 at "Jim's Little Photo and Poem Place"

"Box Car Art" Photo by Jimmiehov 2015 at "Jim's Little Photo and Poem Place"

[click on photos once or twice for large or larger yet view]

Railroads tracks fascinate 

Of them I have kept track 

My tracks were choochoo trains'

Through smoke conductor sang 

Boxcar art at the stops 

Hobos get off to beg 

Wherever, followed tracks 

Omaha/Oakland bound 

Remembering that day 

Day they pulled the tracks 

Bicycles to fireworks 

Now my entertainment 

Sad 

     day 

Photo by Krivec Ales on Pexels.com

  _ _ _ 

 - Poem and Top Photos Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022 and 2015, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Merrill at Quadrille #161:Staying on Track for Bottom Photo, 

https://dversepoets.com/2022/10/03/quadrille-161-staying-on-track/ 

 - Merrill's instructions, "the quadrille, it’s simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “track” or some form of the word in your poem . . . " 

 - Click here to view other participants' Quadrille efforts

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The Journey - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

  

Up; and loaded up 

We loaded up our old wagon 

and headed for California 

On top our earthly possessions 

Gold rush was over still there's jobs 

The kids and I were in the back 

Couple of kids and dog way back 

This would be my very last move 

Had an obituary in my briefcase 

Some clothes were stuffed in there as well 

Traveled light this would be my last 

When we got to Albuquerque 

wasn't feeling well, pain in chest  

They dumped me off and traveled on 

Said some prayers for me said goodbye 

Right there at the morgue I'd passed away 

I'm standing here now, Pearly Gates 

Saint Peter's directing traffic 

Some go Right, the others were wrong 

 

Never in my life 

was a lefty 

Kicking ye Old Bucket 

 _ _ _ 

 

Knockin' On Heaven's Door/Lyrics

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Mama, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Robert Dylan

Knockin' On Heaven's Door lyrics © Ram's Horn Music, Universal Tunes 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Carrie for the picture prompts, at The Sunday Muse #229 where she has more, other writers' URLS also, 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-229.html

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She had a Fan - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

Louise Brooks, fashion icon of the 1920's

 

Flapper with Fan 

She was a flapper girl 

Flapper fresh off from farm 

Flapper of the Twenties 

Carried a flimsy fan 

A fancy formal fan  

Front decorated fresh 

Shy, fear of being found 

Safely behind the fan 

She carried for safety 

Of whom was she afraid 

City friend she hadn't found 

Afraid learning to kiss 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for my Picture Prompt at the Sunday Muse #228, 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-228.html 

 - Read her words and find others writing from viewing of her pictures 

 - "Flappers were a subculture of young Western women in the 1920s who wore short skirts (knee height was considered short during that period), bobbed their hair, listened to jazz, and flaunted their disdain for what was then considered acceptable behavior. Flappers were seen as brash for wearing excessive makeup, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes in public, driving automobiles, treating sex in a casual manner, and otherwise flouting social and sexual norms." Wikipedia, Read More 

 - My dad used to tease my mom by saying that when he found her, she was a Flapper

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