Man, Woman, and Child - a Write for NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 28

Bing's AI found photo

Mother Nature's Rule 45 

Man needs a woman, woman needs a man 

Mother Nature's rule 

From the start the man hunts food and the 

woman cooks the food 

When man and woman love each other  

 babies, children repeat 

 _ _ _ 

  - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2024, All Rights Reserved 

  - I am linked with NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 28 

    https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-10/ 

    Written in Sijo Poetic Form, "Mother Nature's Rule 45" because it has 45 syllables (44-46 form requires) 

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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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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.

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Mind Wanderings - a Piece of Prose for Friday Writings

What comes to mind when given a pretty sunset?

It was a pretty sunset over the lake with pink sky and red sun. But my camera red eye fixer 'fixed it'. There was such a pretty red sun in the middle of this picture when I took it from inside our friend's house at her breakfast room table.

That's the way my life has often been, when someone fixes things for me that I didn't want or feel needed fixing.  "Just trying to help" is the reply if I were to protest.

Like the times I have fallen, onto the ground.  They rush in and try to help me up, when really I just want to lay there and commiserate.  

I don't fall often but when I do it seems there is always pain, often a whole lot more.  Blood, scraping of the skin, and three times broken bones.  And then my bones don't heal like regular people's do.  Oh yes, they "calcify" and stick together but the bones don't grow back together bone to bone.  That's why I use my cane when my right big toe hurts walking.  

I've talked with some others, this is their story too.  So if you happen to come onto one who has fallen, PLEASE for the person's sake, just ASK if he or she wants to get up before you try to fix things.  It may help in them with coping of some terrible misery by just lying there for a bit.

 _ _ _ 

 - Photo and Story Copyright, Jimmiehov 2007 and 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am writing with Rosemary at The Friday Writings #36, 

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2022/07/friday-writings-36-sunset.html?m=1 

 - She wants us to share either in poetry or prose a sunset experience, or whatever, comes to mind involving a pretty sunset. 

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Weekly Scribblings - Tree of a different kind

    [click picture one or two 

       times for larger view]

    The Zombie Tree 

Half living and half dead 

    a zombie tree find        

Gathers moss in the wet 

    it's greyed limbs are bare

Birds galore love to perch 

    avoid it for nests 

Except eagles and owls 

    they nest with views 

Dead looking limbs and bows 

    they are live within 

Devouring bugs and worms 

    invite birds to come  

Serve woodpeckers delight 

    be no quiet nights 

Circus for Nature's wilds 

    oft eerie for man 

Wolves and coyotes applaud 

    howling approval 

Owls proud, announce their find 

    no other dare come near 

Scary nights screech and howl 

    brave souls listening in  

Still nights not for this tree 

    meant to be with crowds 

The road is too narrow 

    more traffic would help 

What it really likes is 

    having its friends near 

Wolves and coyotes bugs and 

    worms.  It likes them all 

Zombie trees always dead 

    Biologically 

Their inner spirits live 

    until destruction 

  _ _ _ 

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

 - I am linked with Rosemary at The Weekly Scribbling #83, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/08/weekly-scribblings-83-pay-attention.html 

 - Rosemary invited us to choose one object in nature, examine it closely, letting it inspire in us a sense of wonder, and then write our new poems or prose piece about it (prose to be 369 words maximum).

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Sunday Muse - Music

"Self-Portrait With Accordion"

by artist Guido Vedovato

    

            The Accordion Player 

Using my assets and talents best I can 

Hands and Feet--be my most useable features 

Large hands perfectly covering the octaves 

Fingers nimble large and long tickling the keys

These feet tapping to the beat they're keeping time 

Parts you cannot see, my lungs and vocal cords 

Voice seems made for yodeling and calling cows 

Songs I play and sing echo among the hills 

Mountain top to mountain top down to valleys 

Valleys below, crowds and the lone sheep herders  

I play my accordion au natural 

plainly and precise--Nature can understand 

I love Nature and her ways, she loves me too

Small fellow, Red Fox with white face, stays with me 

But Sundays I'm at church to play the organ 

Oh, I play for weddings too.  Could it be yours?  

- - -   

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2021, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked to Shay, a.k.a. Fireblossom, for the picture with The Sunday Muse #173,  http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-sunday-muse-173.html?m=1 

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Weekly Scribblings -- Waystation

    A Monarch Waystation Garden 

Last spring's early happy sighting 

Group of scouts, Monarch butterflies 

Looking to find some Milkweed plants 

Twelve other varieties too 

Leaves to attach their fertile eggs 

Leaves for caterpillars to eat 

Flowers whose pollen insects love 

sustenance for the family 

Mating, baby growing ends,  

they're ready to go north or south 

North to stay cool, south to be warm 

A pleasant stay this stopover 

Seeing and knowing Nature's treat 

Sets folks planting flowers plants 

Where Monarchs recreate and play 

A Monarch Waystation Garden 

  - - - 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2021 

 - I am linked with Rommy at Weekly Scribblings #79,   https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/07/weekly-scribblings-79-on-my-way.html?m=1

 - Reference, Monarch Butterfly, https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarch_butterfly 

 - Photo and Reference, Build a Monarch Waystation, https://www.americanmeadows.com/blog/2016/06/17/how-to-create-a-monarch-waystation .  The NUMBERS in the picture above denote placement of 20 different named plants and flowers in this Website. 

 - Rommy has asked us to write poetry or prose using the word 'waystation' as inspiration.

 - We had planned to plant Milkweed seeds this spring but now that must wait for next year.  At least I hope we do.
 

Weekly Scribblings -- Who am I

A Trans Specie 

I'm a little brownish grey butterfly with pink and yellow decorated wings and splashes of brownish pink here and there. 

But I am reminded often times that some folk will say I really am a moth.  You see I show born a moth on my birth certificate though I've always been at home with the pretty butterflies.  

My body is brown, rather muscular.  With my body so strong I excel in varsity sports, Whiffleball is my favorite although I am also good in Track . 

There is a problem however.  The life of a butterfly is one of flitting from here to there, one flower to another, all day long.

My moth friends, most of whom I had before the change, have purpose. We were sneaking into people's houses when they opened a door or window to find the prettiest silks in their closets and have a nibble or two or three or more.  

And lay our eggs in the darkest corners of the house

Or we might lie in wait until the screen door opened and then we'd bite the person coming out.  

It's a tussle, I think and feel I'm a butterfly, possibly would change back to a moth.  However the doctors won't make that happen, too dangerous for the patients.  

So I'll flit around some more, that's what butterflies are supposed to do.  All ventures that look so appealing really are not so, instead they're quite a bore.  

 - - - 

 - Prose Verse and Photo Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2021, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Rommy at the Weekly Scribblings #73, at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/06/weekly-scribblings-73-butterflies-and.html?m=1

 - Per Rommy we are to write about either moths or butterflies (or both!).  Also if prose must be 369 words or less, I have scribbled down 243 words.

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