A Poem for the Pantry

Reminiscing London Strolls; 
take a walk through the neighborhood; 
forty +/- reasons while living in London is the best

you, an Internet friend, had me walking at the old church park at St. John's Wood, and then into the leaf strewn paths through the old cemetery. There squirrels and moss covered unreadable tombstones standing crooked were waiting to join me. (St John's Wood--Wikipedia link)

A neighborhood playground
The little man at the gate house
Kids
Big kids and adults too
The spinning wheel we'd all be falling off
The swings with sitting small children, "push me higher Papa"

Morning walk up Abey Lane
Greeted at the corner, entrance into the street, swarming with camera toting tourists
Passing the old recording studio, Beatles early songs in my head
Waive to the web cam under the tree up on a pole
The old church, Abbey Road Baptist now, hoping to convert the Muslims to know Jesus

Things wear down in glamour at the next light, turn left to Abercorn School
Or walk on past a little too far for walking back.
Big Red double decker Bus 39 will take me/us back
Farther still the train awaits

But walking past the school, past the park, there's the little Beatles Memorabilia Store, records, eight track tapes, cassettes,  or why not a CD?

Walk across the street, corner store
I'll have a Magnolla Bar, ice cream
Need a box of porridge (oatmeal)?

Beatle singer, Paul McCartney's house, wave, throw a kiss
On the way to the Cricket Stadium
St John's Wood park again
Come back up High Street, pass the library and the street little pancake, what do we call the thin ones, Crêpes.  I'll have Nutella and Black Raspberry jam on mine
Could have had a Gelato cone (ice cream) coming back before the library instead of the crepe

Turn right, there will be my flat, come on in
What'd I miss, visit and we'll  check things out
For sure I forget the Tube entrance, escape to downtown London 
 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 
 - I'm linked with Magaly Guerrero In the Poetry Pantry at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/01/writers-pantry-3-be-warm.html?m=1 

 - This is intended to be seen as a rough draft, jotting my thoughts for a further effort. Here it is more prose than poem though in part it is in stanza form.  A prose poem?
 - My thoughts in writing this bit is that the end writing be as a note to a friend, perhaps in London, maybe not, for the friend to keep in mind the joys I/we had.  And the whys one would want to live there.  In it I recalled some of the times I or we had while being there in St John's Wood.  I would also benefit myself from recalling these moments and more. 

Adios

Thank you, pantry prompter, 
for writing this reminder, may we 
never forget the bravery of Rosa 
Parks. Love your illustration, 
she makes me feel young and happy. 

TODAY I START MY SABATICAL 
TO END JANUARY 12, 2020 
(love the ring of those numerals, 
my hope is to live that year long). 

Also, I may sneak 
out a dity or few when 
my Warden isn't looking. 

Bye Bye, wish me a BON VOYAGE,  
 _ _ _  

 - Like most blog writers I appreciate comments and critiques from my readers.  
 - Very likely though my warden, a cousin to my muse, will not allow me to return your comments.  Even so I am planning to read a lot of yours. 

 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in the Pantry of Poetry and Prose with Poets United, https://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/12/pantry-of-poetry-and-prose-6.html?m=1 

 - You can read Magaly's tribute to Ms. Parks at the link above. 

An October Prose Poem for the Pantry of Prose at Poets United

The Little Girl at the Dollar Store

I had been reparking the car after letting The Misses out by the door. She went ahead to find some fake flowers for her mother's grave. As I walked into the Dollar Store I asked the clerk where the fake flowers were, but as she started to point the lady was interrupted with, "I'll take you there."

My rescuer was another lady in her late thirties pulling along a little girl about two. I think this little girl had not seen a man using a cane before to help him walk. She may not have seen a man a old as I was either. We will name her LGAT for "little girl about two". 

We found The Misses coming back with eight dark red and twittering on the verge of orange. Very timely for this nice October month.  As the four of us walked rather leisurely to the cashier the mother and The Misses talked of burials and the upcoming Halloween holiday. But LGAT and I were eyeing each other with what is next with us?

I finally broke the ice and asked what she was going do to for Halloween. "Trick or Tweet" was her guarded answer. We didn't talk about me but in a bit I asked her about a costume, she said a witch.

Misses stepped in and asked her if she knew the song, "Witches on their Brooms*" but her answer showed she wasn't into listening to things like that (the only witch song I remembered then was the 1972 Eagles' tune, "Witchy Woman"). She did have several comments about witches that I really could not understand.

The Misses then asked her what she thought I should be so she said a witch also, though I think she wanted me to ride my cane like a broom. 

They left after their credit card was approved, without 'good-byes'. LGAT was walking half backwards half of the time trying to keep an eye on me. I am sure she will talk about us, me the more, and ask questions. I would have liked knowing of her grandparent's status.

LGAT may remember this episode for days, I will remember for years.

*YouTube song, "Witches with their Brooms" link  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-_wvob4ZEw
   _  _  _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/10/pantry-of-poetry-and-prose-october-is.html?m=1 

 - Our instructions by Magaly were to write a prose poem of 369 words or less in the vein of the month of October.  I have exactly 369 words including the title.

A Gothic Fiction Short Story for the Prose Pantry

Why was this lake house cottage renting for so cheap

We all loved the little cottage by the lake. And we got it so cheap, the Landlord has ducked my question why such a bargain. A bit of worry, he responded, "the basement's wet, don't go down there." 
 
We fed the kids hot dogs that night. The neighbor girl, Neiva, and our daughter, Cloie, turned in early for their first night. We all follow after the News.

But I can't sleep, I'd heard a noise a bit earlier. Maybe. But it stopped soon and I didn't go down until now.

Nothing down here, all like we left it. I put my ear to the basement door and hear swishing there. I easily jimmy the lock, open the door slowly and turn on the light.

I see the curtains waving, someone or somebody had just left through the window. Worse though are the bodies floating in waist deep water. Kids, all kids and teen girls.

Closer I look. There was one lady, half naked with her arms torn off. Then I see her face, bloody and scratched, it was my wife.

Call the sheriff, call the sheriff!!! My cell phone had no coverage.

Just then I see the landlord coming through the basement door. With a hand half covering his eyes he comes toward me. But something is wrong, he looks more like a bear than a man.

His front two teeth are six inches long. But sickening to me those teeth are holding the teens, Cloie and Neiva. They are limp and crying.

With strength I never knew I had I grab him by the throat and hold tight until he collapses.

Neiva ran upstairs to call the sheriff, Cloie was still crying, and I puke. 

Now I know why the low priced rent.

 _ _ _ _

 - Prose Story Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in the Pantry of Prose at http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/09/telling-tales-with-magaly-guerrero.html?m=1

 - Magaly wants us to write a Gothic Fiction Short Story having 313 words or less.  Mine with the title has 304 words. What is Gothic Fiction?  Read around my Google Search, click here.