Read it and, . . . -- for a dVerse Poetics and Friday Writings

[Taken on a road trip through Iowa, 2011 (posted about it, click here)] 

dVerse Poetics Poem: 

        Sign said, "Road Closed" 

The sign said that the road was closed 

But that wasn't enough for me 

Which way to go, there's no arrow 

Two alternatives, right or left 

Or is there a third, either way 

Perhaps they both end up, same place 

This was Iowa, new to me 

I took my chances and went left 

That's the way life is many times 

There is no Detour sign to say 

And there's plenty of Iowa's 

We'll read the sign and do our best 

     _ _ _ 

Friday Writings Special:

Like a Deer 

Storm has come tonight 

Skies are darkened as black ink 

Love to run in rain 

_ _ _ 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with MS JADELI   at dVerse Poetics at  

   https://dversepoets.com/2023/09/12/dverse-poetics-semiotics-reading-the-signs/

 - Click here to read other writing concerning "signs". 

 - I am also linked with Magaly for hosting Friday Writings #94 at  

   https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/   

 - Magaly has invited us to "create poetry or prose which includes the following words:  storm; ink; and love" (I made a Senryu for her).  We have a choice as using her prompt is optional.  Due to my busy schedule I have opted to post instead a previously written work using "signs" for the prompt by MS JADELI.  

        _ _ _ 

 I used to like this song a lot:

 

 Detour — Patti Page

.. 

And this:

"Signs" (lyrics)
Recorded by: "Five Man Electrical Band" (1970)
http://www.digitaldreamdoor.com/pages/lyrics2/signs.html
.. 

April -- NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 22 -- Doctor's Advice -- and a Poem for Sunday Muse

“Pointlessness” by Fine Art Photographyer Lara Zankoul 

Her Mistake 

She doesn't understand her doctor's cure 

She takes his advice literally 

He's told her the fix for her jitters 

That would be for her to get her broom 

She's to take her broom and bucket 

Go to the edge of the sea 

Sweep the sand, dump it into the sea 

When she has finished find another 

She took his advice literally 

Didn't understand his metaphors  

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for the Photo from her selections for the Sunday  Muse #256 at 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/04/sunday-muse-256.html?m=1 

 - I am also linked with NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month, Day 22 , 

    https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-two-9/ 

 - My entry time was around 8:07 Central Standard Time if you'd care to see my entry posted.  The picture is not there.

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April -- NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 09, a Love Poem Sonnet, also with The Sunday Muse

 

Love's Sweet Song 

 

Do ra me fa so la, so sings your song 

You are sweet music to my yearning ears 

Before we had met my heart was a void 

Empty, waiting for you to come along 

When I first saw you my heart heard your song 

A sweet tune, melody it recognized 

Picked up by my organs, liver, stomach 

Eyes and ears, they're calling to me, loudly, 

"Give her a look, she's like her song, so sweet" 

I took their word--sang back my song to you 

Your heart picked up my tune replied to me 

I was so glad, very, you'd noticed me 

Do ra me fa so la, it's you and me 

I love your all, you've made my life complete 

_ _ _ 

Do Re Me (Fa So La Ti Do) from Self-Awarewolf on Vimeo.

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo from Carrie's selection at the Sunday Muse #254, at   https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/04/sunday-muse-254.html?m=1 

 -  I am also linked with Day Nine, NaPoWriMo, where we were instructed to write a Love Sonnet Poem, 

    https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nine-9/ 

 - I've written several love poems, this one isn't the best, I'm sure.

My first love poem, written in 2010, with directions imbedded, is here,
http://jimmiehov6.blogspot....

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Boys Girls Women Men Flowers Beasts Worms, etc. -- a Poem for the Sunday Muse

 

     The Seasons of Life 

Youngsters at play with the bubbles 

catching all they can 

but burst way more than they catch 

Babies until they grow up a ways,

teens maybe 

Flowers begin to show 

Spring will depart when Nature calls 

 

Comes late spring, Beauty will be "the in" 

Flowers everywhere, some to pluck 

others for seed

Boys and girls learning love and passion 

Tamed by parents on the alert 

seeds not for germination  

 

Summer pretty to begin but 

weather beaten at the end 

Birds and bees everywhere 

showing their stuff 

love is love, passion's another kind 

One  by one  they leave the nest 

migrate if they must 

Their genes and dollars determine 

Autum comes, winds try to cool 

there's a bit tiring, shows it's head 

cloudy, dust from Africa blurs the clouds 

Clock watchers abound 

waiting for retirement 

or an old folks home 

Winters around the corner 

early snow not wanted 

 

Winter's short days are good for napping 

some hibernate, others have an early end 

Sledding and skiing for young 

and the old, kiddie slopes popular 

Nature has its ways, for her pets

there's another day, and next season 

Humans not like that at all,

one life is all there is 

Hope they've populated the earth 

with their young 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photos from Carrie as prompt, the colored one I copped from the Internet, I've forgotten where.  Carrie is hosting The Sunday Muse #252  at 

    https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/03/sunday-muse-252.html 

 - After writing this I was told of a more famous and much better writer than I, Antonio Vivaldi, who wrote the poem available at the URL below.

    "Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" Poems

December 29, 2017

Did you know that the music of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons is based on four poems written by Antonio Vivaldi? In the music, each "Season" consists of a three-movement concerto. Two quick-tempo outer movements frame a central slow-tempo movement. The sonnets included in the score provide a specific description of each movement.  A prose translation of the original Italian is provided below." (Exerted from the web site below.  There you can also watch his corresponding opera performed as recorded in the video supplied)

    https://www.charlottesymphony.org/blog/vivaldis-four-seasons-poems/

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My Path - a Metaphorical Poem {??} for Sunday Muse

Surreal Image by Robert Jahn

I walk a narrow road 

more narrow than 

the width of my foot 

It has no curbs 

nor a fence 

and 

not a shoulder at all

No intersections 

except 

for one 

One for the 

light beam walkers and 

most of them can fly 

Fly as the June bug 

the one who 

flies to its death 

trying 

trying to get to the light 

For the light I have no desire 

that path I'll not try 

My desire is to make it 

make it to the other side 

In one piece if I may 

falls are hard and 

there's no one 

to help 

Some never make it up 

their lifeless bodies 

waiting for the hearse 

Others give it up 

they're tired of trying 

so they too 

wait for the hearse 

The hearses go 

in two directions, 

up 

and 

down 

Like an elevator where 

gravity 

pulls it down 

The desirable path 

for us is 

straight across 

Straight and narrow 

is the path to take, 

leave it not 

Left or right 

those ways lead quickly 

quickly lead to 

Down

_ _ _ 

I am linked with Carrie at the Sunday Muse #237 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/11/sunday-muse-237.html?m=1 

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Kissing and Voting - a Poem for Friday Writings

Apple Decides; Tells; 

or what does it?

Twist the apple stem 

she loves me she loves me not 

(repeat) She loves me ... 

When the stem breaks we will know 

I'm tired of this game 

I've been tired since the first grade 

Led to storm cellar 

Show me yours I'll show you mine 

Strict Republicans 

and Liberal Democrats 

We vote, ballots filled 

When count is in then we'll know 

Majority wins 

most of times but not always 

 _ _ _ 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Magaly at the Friday Writings #46 

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2022/09/friday-writings-46-different-points-of.html?m=1  

 - Magaly has invited us to write one piece of poetry or prose from two different points of view. 

 - Note:  With our, U.S.,  electoral college system of voting the college doesn't always vote the same as the popular majority voters. 

 - This has happened five times: 

John Quincy Adams (1824);

Rutherford B. Hayes;  (1876);  

Benjamin Harrison ; (1888); 

George W. Bush (2016; and 

Donald Trump (2020) 

[ https://www.history.com/.amp/news/presidents-electoral-college-popular-vote ] 

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The Cat - a Prose Poem for Friday Writings

    Toxic Love*

Click photo for a larger view

I brought my cat home; he loved me at sight.  I was carrying a piece of fried chicken and gave him a hunk.  He ate.  He crawled into my lap, purring like he was my loving boy slave.   

That was nice but not, he wanted to sleep with me that very first night.  I put his bed on the floor and told him that was his bed.  

Wasn't long, the first program of "Murder She Wrote" was still playing when he jumped in bed with me.  I couldn't make him leave without making a big fuss.

Oops, we can't be doing this, tomorrow will be different.  

Next I knew he had wiggled his way under the sheet to be closer to me.  Purring a bit, he soon went to sleep.  That was good.  "Good dreams," I thought. 

About two o'clock, I felt an itch, a BIG ITCH.  I scratched it a little, it felt wet.  Blood was coming from my leg.  There was a scratch, "I must cut my fingernails closer".  After some suave and a band aide I went back to sleep.  

An hour later I scream.  The Cat was biting my nose.  Auch.  My nose was bleeding, and hurt, not just an itch.  I whacked The Cat and he went running.  I went after him but couldn't find, he was hiding someplace in the house. 

After that night, I closed my bedroom door, his bed was in the living room by the couch.  One night he woke me up, biting really hard again.  I chased him away and doctored my bod.  I am sure he had been hiding under the bed.

  

He's bolder now, thinks he should rule.  When I pass, he paws my leg.  And when I sit, he crawls onto my lap and purrs.  Some days though, he'll scratch or bite, bites me all over, he likes open skin.

I can't give him away; I love him too much.  I'd like for him to behave and even be back with me at night but seems he is a slow learner about how to be a welcome roommate. 

Now, nobody wants him.  I'm stuck. 

 _ _ _ _ 

 - Magaly has invited us to write (either a poem or a piece of prose) about "Toxic Love". [I wrote 359 Words, limit was 360.  I call it prose.]

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved. 

 - The cat in the picture belongs to my daughter.  He does sleep with her and he will bite her while she is sleeping.  But the cat here is a metaphor (??) of sorts, I didn't write about my daughter.  I want the poem to stand alone, think cat or guy, it matters to me not.  Just enjoy.

 - I am linked with Magaly at The Friday Writings #43, at 

  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/search/label/poetry%20prompts

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*Note: 

"In a toxic relationship, you might consistently feel drained or unhappy after spending time with your partner, according to relationship therapist Jor-El Caraballo, which can suggest that some things need to change.

"Maybe the relationship no longer feels at all enjoyable, though you still love your partner. For some reason, you always seem to rub each other the wrong way or can’t seem to stop arguing over minor issues. You might even dread the thought of seeing them, instead of looking forward to it as you did in the past.. ."  There's more, read here what the signs are for this strange critter (really not an oxymoron even if it does sound like one). 

..

Our Days - a Poem with an Aphorism - Meet the Bar, dVerse

 

    Click on picture for larger sized viewing

  The Clock Ticks 

I'm facing the wall 

No turning around 

When I last saw him 

He was eight feet tall 

Bang. His gun went off 

I fell to the floor 

Down with a big thud 

My day is over 

When I awakened 

There's no blood no pain 

Why wasn't I dead 

Best wake and repent 

The clock is ticking 

and our days aren't long 

 _ _ _ 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Björn Rudberg (brudberg) in dVerse for Meet the Bar with Aphorisms, at  

https://dversepoets.com/2022/09/08/meet-the-bar-with-aphorisms/  

 - Is there a growing old?  The final two lines make my aphorism. 

 - Click Here to visit the others writing Aphorisms this week

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Like a Faithful Lassie - a Poem for The Sunday Muse

 

     The Carrier 

Like the carrier of Cinderella's shoe 

She hoped and hoped to find its wearer 

Always cheerful and patient expecting 

Expecting to find and see a miracle 

Thanking God and thanking man and she waits 

She'll help with your dirty stuff and the hard 

Willing but hardly able for some 

Carry the groceries home take nary a bite 

Wonder, worry, for the owner of the shoe 

Carries always the shoe in her hands and heart 

She's the one I married and now you'll know 

Know why I love her so, ever, forever 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo prompt is one of several Carrie has from which I chose, at The Sunday Muse #218, 

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/07/sunday-muse-218.html?m=1

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The Ride -- Life Goes On -- a Poem for Sunday Muse

  

                Photo by Robert Doisneau 

                “The Ghost Train,” 1953

 

  The Ride; something special?

Ride of my life I'm looking for 

Too old for ponies I was told 

Truth comes hard not child any more 

Life change, adolescents we were 

Corny jokes tickles and pinches 

Crushes, fickle loves and breakups 

Come scarey tunnel of darkness 

Moments getting more serious 

Teens we learned every part of love  

High school finished my grades were good 

Way too young still, took our chances 

Steamed romances settled on one 

Will marriage be the ride for me 

Cross my fingers hope for good choice

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo inspiration courtesy of Carrie as hosting The Sunday Muse #209, 

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/05/sunday-muse-209.html?m=1 

 - Her other choices today:

- All seemed to me to be stages of a woman's life.  See Carrie's link above for their artist's credits.

..

- I have written every day in April for National Poem Writing Month, I hope you can classify all as poems of sorts.

 Each of the links below should pull up several writes from April 1 down to April 30 (today, 2022): 

NaPoWriMo 2022, 

NaPoWriMo 2022b, 

NaPoWriMo 2022c, 

NaPoWriMo 2022d, 

The Day -- NaPoWriMo Day 26

The day there was nothing

I pulled over to stop 

A pulloff beconed me 

And when I did there was 

Nothing 

Nothing there of value 

to make my stop worthwhile 

Middle of the desert  

Nothing 

Nothing was there to see 

Not one thing impressed me 

Brown sand up close was all 

Nothing 

Nothing to see down there 

Creek had been dry for years 

Nothing there that could grow 

Nothing 

Nothing up there to see 

Nothing back where I'd been 

Brown beside on the hill 

Nothing 

Nothing here sand and rocks 

Fans of Brown have a feast 

Feast of nothing at all 

Nothing 

Nothing tugs, "in the car" 

In the car turn the key 

"Nothing" 

 _ _ _ 

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with NaPoWriMo Day 26, 

https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-six-8/ 

 - There we are prompted to "write a Poem containing an epic simile, also known as a Homeric simile."

 - The photo is of my TV screen during a commercial.  I don't know what was being advertised, mostly I was trying to figure out the make, it is a Mazda Miata maybe?

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Sunday Muse - Play it, Play it

American Jazz pianist and

 composer Thelonious Monk 

  Piano Man 

Piano man, won't 

you play for me 

See it in your eyes 

your one desire 

Would it be for me 

sole audience

Merely tickling keys 

in the mornings 

Practicing for nights 

play just for me

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo prompt furnished hopefully by Carrie for The Sunday Muse # 199 writers at 

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/02/sunday-muse-199.html?m=1 

 - Composed entirely using my old Galaxy 8 smartphone 

 - Ninety (90) syllables 

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Sunday Muse - Tree that Was

 

                           Photography by

                         Kristine Wayman

               Dad's day is done 

           his axe has dulled 

              shirt is salty 

           smelling of sweat 

                  _ _ _ 

           They Have Left 

      When the tree has gone 

      We're left with the stump 

      Stumps are memories 

      Always they remain 

     The tree is no more 

      Tree cutters have gone       

      To lumber was morphed  

      Boards in commerce pile 

      Its parts will linger 

      They don't go away 

     Good times and the sad 

      Stay here just for us 

      We'll laugh a little 

      And we'll cry a lot 

      Wipe our tears away 

      Still the stump will stay 

      Buy a wooden stool 

      Come sit by the stump 

      Split a log to burn 

      Warm our toes 

      Watch the smoke 

      We can reminisce 

      Beauty--tree that was 

Note:  This can be read literally or metaphorically.  The latter could be the aura after a child has left home. 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo Prompt furnished by Carrie at The Sunday Muse #197, http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/02/sunday-muse-197.html?m=1

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Sunday Muse - Will I open?

. 

    The door is locked  

I have the key the door is locked 

You can't come in without the word 

Your magic word I'll turn the key 

Works better than cupid's arrow 

You know the word don't say in vain 

Please, want it seriously said 

When I know you really mean it 

I'll turn my key, open the door 

Door to my heart and shoot your dart 

Let Cupid's Arrow sting my heart 

    

      "Cupid's Arrow" Artwork by Jimmiehov 2021

  - - - 

 - Poem and bottom Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2021, All Rights Reserved  

 - Photo Prompt furnished by Carrie at The Sunday Muse #187  , http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/11/sunday-muse-187.html?m=1 

 - The heart and arrow drawing in  the "Cupid's Arrow" is on a picture of a piece of paper that I have been carrying in my Bible almost ever since we were married, 48+ years ago.

 - A song similar to my ditty:  

    Bob Dylan - "Is Your Love in Vain?" (Official Audio)  

Official audio for "Is Your Love in Vain?" by Bob Dylan Listen to Bob Dylan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWlM790UJLk

 Lyrics (sing along?) --

    Is Your Love in Vain?

Do you love me 

Or are you just extending good will? 

Do you need me half as bad as you say 

Or are you just feeling guilt? 

I've been burned before and I know the score 

So you won't hear me complain 

Will I be able to count on you 

Or is your love in vain? 

Are you so fast that you cannot see 

That I must have solitude? 

When I am in the darkness 

Why must you intrude? 

Do you know my world, do you know my kind 

Or must I explain? 

Will you let me be myself 

Or is your love in vain? 

Well, I've been to the mountain and I've been in the wind 

I've been in and out of happiness 

I have dined with kings, I've been offered wings 

And I've never been too impressed 

All right, I'll take a chance 

I will fall in love with you 

If I'm a fool you can have the night 

You can have the morning too 

Can you cook and sew, make flowers grow 

Do you understand my pain? 

Are you willing to risk it all 

Or is your love in vain? 

Can you cook and sew, make flowers grow 

Do you understand my pain? 

Are you willing to risk it all 

Or is your love in vain? 

Thank you 

Source: Musixmatch 

Songwriters: Robert Dylan Is Your Love in Vain? 

lyrics © Universal Tunes 

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