Separation - a Poem for dVerse Quadrille and for Friday Writings

    Across the water  

As I drive across the bridge 

Our part of the lake is host 

Host to what seems a zillion 

A zillion foreigners there 

Across the water between 

"them" and us 

They're of all kind, assorted

Lump them together, "snowbirds"

Northerns--hidding from winter's wiles    

-- 44 word Quadrille

Note:  This is the northern end of Lake Conroe at Conroe, Texas north of Houston just a bit.  In the winters which are fairly warm in Texas and other parts of the South and Southwest the folk from the northern states come south to have nicer weather rather than the harsh winters of the northern states. 

We here in the South call them "Snowbirds".  This trailer park is very full up during the winters.  We lived south of this park on the other side of the lake in a golf course neighborhood but have moved back into a suburb of Houston to be closer to our younger daughter and her family.  They were an hour and a half drive from us before the move.  Now it is a five-minute walk.

_ _ _ 

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

 - I am linked with  whimsygizmo  for the July 24, 2023, Quadrille # 180 dVerse prompt, "Water" at 

    https://dversepoets.com/2023/07/24/quadrille-180-pouring-out-our-poems/  

 - Click here to read the works of other writers using the prompt 

 - I am linked with Rosemary for the prompt at Friday Writings # 87 ,   

   https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

 - Rosemary has asked us to write of "what pleases you".  

  - I am pleased that these people from northern state come. We are helping them and they help our economy here.  More so than holding football's Super Bowl.

.. 

Oceans and Cities -- A Poem for the Sunday Muse

        Angels are Busy Tonight 

    When oceans rise cities flood 

    Streets become paths of water 

    New Venice a thousand times 

    Unexpected near midnight 

    Climate Change Global Warming 

    Cities will flood people drown  

    Unpredicted Solar Flare 

    That straw broke the camel's back 

    Communications were down 

    Traffic was stopped world around 

    Came Flash flood Oceans did rise 

    People unaware of its coming 

    Angels helped in the cities  

    My angel stopped for a pose 

    People began to believe 

    Oceans rose and people drowned 

 _ _ _ 

 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo from Carries last choices, all previously used, see them at the Final Sunday Muse (#261), https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/05/sunday-muse-261.html

 - This poem is new to me, a Quatern Form, where the first verse works it's, or a variation of (here), way down to the fourth and last line of the last verse.   Read about it here and my first poem Thursday, May 25, using the form here.

.. 

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/

.. 

Quote Dickens? -- a Write for the Sunday Muse

"The first known accounts of spontaneous human combustion (SHC) date all the way back to 1641, the phenomenon gained wider exposure in the 19th century after popular author Charles Dickens used it to kill off one of the characters in his novel “Bleak House.” When critics accused Dickens of legitimizing something that didn’t exist, he pointed to research showing 30 historical cases."  (more) 

Does it Really Not Exist?  

Accounts in his newspaper 

were saying 

Folks burning right and left 

there on the plain 

Cities too, large and small, 

counting them up 

Three hundred seventy 

Those were the death tallies 

 many more had burns 

 Spontaneous Human Combustion 

 was blamed 

 Burns starting on the back 

 scorching behind 

 Not possible he thought 

 loosened his tie 

 Feeling hot behind twas 

 such a cold day 

 Scratched his itching back 

 nails came back scorched 

 Looked behind, jumped away 

 hell was burning 

 

He'd started the fire 

 now he believed 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for the picture prompt, The Sunday Muse #249 

    https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/03/sunday-muse-249.html 

 - I have read the Dicken's book, "Bleak House", it is very long.  That is where I learned of Spontaneous Human Combustion. 

    ..

Close to ?? - a poem for Friday Writings

1957 Chevrolet Bel Air Nomad Wagon (googled)

 

    On Getting Cozy 

 

Makes me think of closeness 

thinking of coziness

Two bods nesting together 

like a pair of kitty cats 

Maybe awake 

perhaps asleep  

Awake and playful 

lover's exercise 

Never standing 

that be silly 

Relaxed and cuddled 

sofa, lights turned low 

More pleasurable 

for the younger set 

Mind goes to beach wagons  

fifty-seven Chevy 

Front seat or back 

bucket or bench 

Memorable evenings late 

more've done than will admit 

On or near Lover's Lane, 

in the woods, edge of town

Wherever, just alone 

honor system, it works 

Coziness 

memorable 

Younger Daughter's Cat 

makes himself cozy with her (Her Photo)

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Top Photo is from a portion of a TV ad, I've forgotten the product name 

 - Bottom Photo belongs to Younger Daughter, her rescue Cat is named Dutch.  Daughter is recovering from having bunion surgery 

 - Rommy has asked us "to write about coziness or something that makes us feel cozy." 

 - Linked to her at Friday Writings #56 (she'll post Friday Morning)  

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/search/label/Friday%20writing%20prompts?m=1 

.. 

B a t m a n -- NaPoWriMo 2022

     For Many Years 

B a t m a n's  been living in the comics 

for many years he's been hiding there 

Hiding from the parents so well 

but now I've been told he's getting old 

The kids have no problems finding him 

he shows every day to those who love 

Cares not love or like him in degrees 

some have seen him not and he doesn't care 

For his true fans he aims all to please 

covets every "Like" that he can get 

They're sorry for him, he's getting old 

stumbles, falls, spits his cud, worse than that 

Every comic wants their big heydays 

Kids know he's been had, now finding tech 

  _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Five at  https://www.napowrimo.net/day-five-9/ 

 - Our leader's prompt for Day Five has a "challenge" for us "to write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual – or at least something that seems unusual in relation to that person/creature." 

 - B a t m a n's  BIRTHDAY was March 30 born in 1939 which makes him to be 81 years old.  

..

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Eight - a Tribute/Self Eulogy/Anthology

Body Outline; Lower Right (click for larger)

[my south of Cape Town, S. Africa Beach photo]

 

The Day I Died 

That day was mournful for me, and 

Day right after I died 

I had no funeral, no mourners weeping 

Hardly a soul knew I died except perhaps those who 

missed me, the ones who were on the streets a lot,  

as there I strolled.  I was friendly, a friendly chap

As we met there under sun or lights 

I offered my hand to you 

Only Jim, Jim a high school student 

He would shake my hand every time we met, 

that made my day 

But Jim didn't know I died, nobody did

except those who scoop the dead from the streets

Everybody in town almost knew my name

I was, and still am, Charley, Charley Frame  

I have no tombstone nor any marker on my grave

For my life there is nothing left to see

There is just me, and perhaps Jim

Jim who sees in his memory.

We shook hands.

Always did. 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem and Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2021 and 2020, All Rights Reserved

 - I am linked with NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Eight (National Poem Writing Month), https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eight-8/ 

 - There our suggested writing prompt was to write "a monologue delivered by someone who is dead. Not a famous person, necessarily – perhaps a . . ."  I wrote of a fellow, I cannot remember his name.  This is practically a true story, there may have been a few others who shook his hand that he always offered. 

 - I am attempting to write at least one poem a day for the National Poem Writing Month.  Today is Day Seven of the 30, you can see my progress here, NaPoWriMo 2021.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Six - an Acrostic

[My Photo]

'I sighed, "I wish I could remember what happened."'

 A M N E S I A 

Amnesia is not fun 

Memory like disease 

Never in my book of likes 

Ever since my accident 

Since then I know, not before 

I wish I knew you--my bride 

Amnesia took me from 

 _ _ _ 

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

 - I am linked with NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Six, ,https://www.napowrimo.net/1942-2/  

 - I am attempting to write at least one poem a day for the National Poem Writing Month.  Today is Day Six of the 30, you can see my progress here, NaPoWriMo 2021.

a Flash Poem for December

 

We came late

 

We came late into the game

Game of life men were playing

We had grown, our dolls did not

But we had learned woman's work

We cleaned we cooked and we sewed

If money was tight we taught

Loved Rosie the Riveter**

She taught us to be ourselves

No more a slave to our man

 _ _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2018, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo copied with PrintScreen for Kerry's link below.  Her picture of Jessie Tarbox Beals can be found here, https://petapixel.com/2015/02/22/americas-first-female-photojournalist-jessie-tarbox-beals-with-her-cameras/

  - I'm linked with Terry O'Connor in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/12/camera-flash-55.html 

 - My Flash Writing has exactly 55 Words not including the title.

 - ** Note, Rosie the Riveter, link

 

Eyelashes, Manure, and Past Job Titles ~~ Poems?

I.

The Politician  
 

Our hero didn't look his part

Eyelashes of greens, reds, yellows

Blue jeans matching light blue sport coat

Makes fellow sort of want to cry
 

Politician, heroic role

The eyelashes give him away

Doesn't matter his wife likes it

His eyes too are painted that way
 _ _ _ _

II.

Caretaker, Barnyards Unlimited 

Our hero, Farmer once before
Went to college but didn't stay
Now in the Army getting out
Spent his time, five years of his life

Told them he wouldn't reenlist  
A year of school and training two
Learned fancy stuff, electronics
Radars and computers he'd fix   

Will you re-up?  No sir, I'm through
Civilian soon, an Engineer  
Till then a two month job for you 
Haul horse manure to my garden 
 _ _ _ _

III.

New Occupation

Our man has quit with his day job 
Went back to school and learnt some more
So he's a Professor, Doctor
Make that Emeritus, retired
 _ _ _ _

Photo and Poem(s) Copyright, Jimmiehov (2010) Photo and 2018 (poems), All Rights Reserved
 
I'm linked with Rommy at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/05/job-title.html 

Somewhere ~~ A Poem for Tuesday

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMNtiSvQWyg&feature=youtu.be

Over the rainbow I must go

It is there we have peace and love

There sons will come home in one piece

Mothers will need no tears for them

 

Over the rainbow I needs go

For there it is that true love stays

No partings the lovers suffer

True love remains, be truly true

 

Over the rainbow I will go

There children will not be hungry

Food is plentiful, water flows

Free medicine, vaccinations

 

Over the rainbow I'll go now

Government is friendly and true

No poisons, pollutions, or guns

People live as God intended

_ _ _

 - Photo (link) and Poem Copyright © 2007 and 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with  Kerry O'Connor, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platvorm, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-tuesday-platform.html
07
 - Kerry's words for us, "It is the day to share our thoughts in poetry, here where the platform belongs to those who embrace the concept of the pen being mightier than the sword, the song more powerful than the war cry."
.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 26, a Poem, Feeling and Outsider Art

 

Feeling

 

I am an outsider which is

different from being an outcast

An outcast is shoved aside, cast away

Either physically or emotionally cast beside the road

 

I'd rather be an outcast than the outsider that I am

Oh they let me mingle but really have nothing

to say with me.  They don't tell me why

they feel disposed to shy away

 

But I have this feeling,
deep down the feeling of truth, I am different

_ _ _ _ _ 

 - Photos and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
 - Photos: (they are mine, copied from my computer screen as referenced below)
       On the screen were several very interesting drawings of Karin Gustufson.  She gave us permission to use them on our posts, providing we give her credit (much due for these wonderful drawings).  I do give credit to "Karin Gustafson--all rights reserved".
        You can see these and more at the "Outsider Art" link below or here.

- - - - - -

 - I'm linked with  Outlawyer, aka K or Karin Gustufson, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Outsider Art, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/04/outsider-art.html 

  --- - - and    

 - also to Day Twenty-six of NaPoWriMo,  http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-six-3/