April's Love

April's Love 

.

It was the best of months, the worst of  months

married young, so good it's hard to describe

tender and sweet, closely entwined, young love

Young marriages may not last, seasons change

bitterness and sorrow, brokenhearted 

storms throw down their nests, the flowers die

- - - - - -

Photos and Poem Copyright
© 2014 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

- - - - - - 

Again I am posting this little poem, in honor of the birds in the picture nesting.  

A house guest dropped one bird on the table, the little bird broke.  Too.many small pieces to glue back together, they were a wedding present 48 years ago.

Posting with the Writer's Pantry #84, Magaly has charge this week, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/08/writers-pantry-84-lets-read-up-storm.html

Today I am  linked to the Real Toads, Words Count with Momma Zen

 (My word count is forty-six)

"In his masterpiece The Waste Land, poet T.S. Eliot 

describes April as the cruelest month," Mom Zee asked,

"Give me the best and worst of April, then render a verdict . . . in 66 words or less."

Weird - Tuesday Platform

Lost Puppy;
I might be weird
.
This puppy is lost, well perhaps I'm not
Often though I feel lost, a little weird
Happy I am but sense cannot be bought
I bark at dogs, quack with ducks, cows have sneered

Some response I always get, never feared
Give me a bone, I'll howl, my neck you scratch
Please someone, take me home before I hatch

- - - - -

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, ©  2015 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - Another Rhyme Royal, Iambic Pentameter, rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-b-c-c.

 - Today I'm linked with the
Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform: Stay Weird Edition (link)
where Marian told of being or feeling weird according to Graham Moore, when accepting the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for The Imitation Game, February 22, 2015. He said this:
 - "I would like for this moment to be for that kid out there who feels like she’s weird or she’s different or she doesn’t fit in anywhere. Yes you do. I promise you do. Stay weird. Stay different, and then when it’s your turn, and you are standing on this stage, please pass the same message along."
 - Marian further said to us, "we have created a safe space for all to share our poems and to feel safe in being exactly who you--WE--are. Fly your freak flag, friends. Pass it on."

Homophones, love my luv -- Words Count

Love my LUV

.

Homophones, love luv

Love my Chevy LUV pickup

Old truck that I love

_ _ _ _ _ _
.

Picture from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chevy_LUV_second_gen.jpg#

[Pictured is a 1981 Chevy LUV second generation, made only one year for the U.S.(LINK)]

Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Notes:  

 - A homophone is a word that is pronounced the same as another word but differs in meaning, and may differ in spelling (link).  

 - I did take poetic license hear, I have never owned a Chevy LUV but have owned its successor, a Chevy S-10 pickup. I did have a 1972 Datsun pickup which was the same year as the first generation LUVs came out. 

 - Also the name besides being a part of a homophone pair is an acronym for light utility vehicle.  You might argue that an acronym is NOT a word, especially a Scrabble word, as it is merely pronounced as if it was a word rather than just a series of individual letters.

 - To read more about the Chevrolet LUV please click HERE.

Today I am Linked with the Real Toads, Words Count With Mama Zen

Grandpa's gone now -- A 'Challenge' answer poem

Grandpa, raconteur friend, gone
 
Grandpa lived in the good old days
Days of old when children played free
Free of worried moms' curtains peek
He'd be safe until supper time
 
Grandpa ran away, lets go too
We've packed some lunch, water bottle,
And the works in life's small treasures
A dead frog, old key, some marbles
 
We catch a ride, a wagon train
Bright with Gypsy decorations
Bundled away out of the cold
Breakfast porridge, chicken at night
 
One complaint from us, chores to do
Beg from farmers' doorsteps still damp
Damp with warm milk spilt every morn
Get our portion, us urchins bold
 
Then one day the sheriff he comes
Inspecting the train, horses too
Some he takes, Farmer Joe ID's
Under the blanket he finds us
 
We talk about those days of old
We're old now ourselves eighty-five
We snatch a key, drive to Mac Dee
Senior coffee, egg biscuit hot
 
Relive those days, our stories long
How our Gypsy hosts made kids work
How they boiled in oil Gramp's dead frog
Gypsy potion against the flu
 
We've just spread our strawberry jam
Second coffee filled, daughter comes
She'd seen us leave, knew where we'd be
Time for Grandpas to come back home
 
My dream tonight, it's true my oath
Grandpa's in Heaven telling tales
How Gypsies got us, olden day
How we'd escape in borrowed truck
 
Grandpa now six years older, gone
Gone to "a better place"--they're right
Daughter peeking through the curtains
Wonders, angels' ride did he steal

- - - - -

Photos and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I am linked with Björn Rudberg at the Real Toads, Sunday Mini-Challenge Time-travel

Also I am linked with  at the Real Toads, Open Monday (Link)

Bjorn's challenge  is to "Write a piece of poetry or prose that use past, present and future in the same poem."  I tried to do that.  I'll proof it again tomorrow.  :)

Notes: 
(1)  I have written several "Grandpa" poems on this blog and some more that mention the word "grandpa" within their bodies.  Go HERE to read some of them (this 'Old Blogger' machine does not make a "Next Page" button).

(2)  Pictures, top to bottom: (you can click on any for a larger few, click again for bigger still) 
 - Empty Rocking Chair, one of four on our back porch;
 - Elephant Driving Peddle Car taken in our local Toys 'R Us elephant plush toy display;
 - Fall Scarecrow was sitting in the lobby of my doctor's office;
 - a selfie I took on one of few of our cold Southeast Texas days;
 - Pretty Girl Green Jeep taken parked in front of a home in Key West, Florida; and
 - Faithful Shepherd Pal (it may not be neither a shepherd dog nor a 'him') waiting for his mistress in front of a church in Dolgellau, Gwynedd, Wales (beautiful little town, you should visit there--or spend two days and a night like we did).  The church was having a Saturday Morning Coffee event which we attended.  Mrs. Jim bought a couple of embroideried items and we had several servings of excellent (free) coffee and scones.

Fight against transitoriety

Come join in the fight against transitoriety,
that is, the lack of permanence

There are problems of dimensions man can never see a model, nor can your graphing calculator or  computer show them to you.  Man cannot envision them either but objects made of them hold properties one never has known.  Do these objects really exist or does the mind race ahead of what most consider reality.

Three dimensions have the cone, the sphere, the cylinder, the cube, the cone, the pyramid, and the prism of assorted non-regular faces.  These we can fathom, measure, and compute a volume or surface area.  This will be done with mathematical formulas involving axes of "X", "Y", and "Z".  There are more we generally ignore.

Anyone knows the directions an airplane can fly can be defined by axis.  One of three mutually perpendicular lines that define the orientation of an aircraft, with one being along its direction of travel and the other two being perpendicular to the direction of travel.  Note that the lines, imaginary are perpendicular to each other and meet at a common point, perhaps the 'middle'.

The plane won't go in any other directions, it was made by man and man thinks in three dimensions.  But the mathematician is not restricted to any certain number of directions.  They can be defined by up to an infinite number of axes.  All can be represented by formulas which can be solved as to an exact point in this unseeable space. 

But where does the e-mail go when you delete it?  No one can say it isn't gone into where we cannot know.  It cannot be seen, heard, smelled, felt, nor tasted.  I don't know, you don't know, but I know it didn't just end. 

Would you join into the fight against transitoriety, that is, the lack of permanence?  Everything that was still is.  Just in another dimension man cannot find.

Axis defined, The Free Dictionary 
Picture,  from Google Search

- - - - -

Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 

I am linked with Margaret at the Real Toads, Play it Again, Toads (link)

Notes:

 - Margaret's instructions:  "... please combine them [illustrative theme pictures] with an archived challenge." I chose Challenge #1)   Kenia's Wednesday Challenge - a philosophical challenge
 - I am not an expert in the field of dimensions.  Kindergartners learn of the three we normally use.  My bachelor degree is in Economics with a Math minor (seven courses I believe) and have studied some orbital mechanics when working with NASA.  (I have also taken enough courses for a political science minor but I didn't request that be on my degree.)
 - In one of my computer courses I developed a program to solve stimulus equations with an infinite number of variables (dimensions).  Not a serious problem for the computer using my program.

Leprechaun Love -- Imaginary Garden Challenge

Love in the Time of __Leprechauns___

(my choice)

 

They'd dance the night away

They'd trip you up any day

 

How were they in lover's lane

Peak in? Beat you with a cane

 

For sure they kissed and kissed

And kissed some more, never missed

 

Mustn't peel hat, pants, or dress

Green masquerade always fresh

 

With a cuppa Irish brew

They'd loosen up, let it go

 

Got things going then, embrace

cuddled, muzzled, kissed a face

 

Things went up, others came down

Masquerade began to frown

 

Nothing's changed, same as today,

Let youngsters' passions play

 

- - - - -

 

 - Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 

 - Picture, Leprechaun Couple, from "A timely favorite"

 

 - I am linked today with Kerry, at the Real Toads, Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ In Other Words

 - Kerry's challenge instructions were to select a "title and substitute your own words in the place of those indicated below, and write a new poem under the title you have created." 

 

- I am also linked with Kerry at the Real Toads, Open Link Monday
 

Salvatore Quasimodo takeoff -- Sunday mini-Challenge

Street in Agrigento

 

On the main street of Agrigento, old Agrigentum, traffic came to a halt.  We were being overtaken by a herd of sheep.  Sheep not yet shorn, moving from morning pastures wet and green to the windswept native grasses of the valley, brown and wilting in the sun.
 
I followed those sheep while we were stopped.  They stopped at the fountain, people parting so they could drink of the cool waters, each one of them.  Then they picked up the pace, not daring to loose site of their herder and his crook.
 
They were still perky from their sleep last night, under the moon and stars there on the prairie grasses soft.  They knew not the cares of the world, not the prices of wool or mutton, not even of the latest levy by the Cosa Nostra
 
Rather their minds were on those walking in Grecian times down those lemon tree lined streets then much slowed.  Wagons and carts, no smell of singed gasoline or diesel fumes.  The same sun and moon as today, wet morning pastures, still, with browning dried prairie grass.
 
When the traffic started moving again the driver picked me up whistling his cheery noonday tune, not wary of my reminiscing with the dawdling sheep.  Wet morning pastures he didn't know nor of soft prairie grasses turning brown.  Same today as in olden time.


.

The old saying is "Like sheep,

we have all gone astray."

[click the picture to see it bigger]

[or even bigger, click here]

- Photo and Poem Copyright, © 2006 and 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

-  I am linked with Grace, aka Heaven, at the Real Toads, Sunday's Mini-Challenge: Salvatore Quasimodo found here.
 
- Again, on Monday I linked it with Magaly at the Real Toads, Open Link Monday (link)

 - Grace's challenge is to "write a new poem or prose poem in response to Salvatore Quasimodo's words.   Some examples of responses include affirming what the speaker said or using his title or line of verse as a jumping board for your own writing.   The prompt is wide open so feel free to explore where your muse takes you."

 - I chose Salvatore's poem, Street in Agrigentum, (link) as a starting place for my muse to become aroused.  You can scroll up or down at the linked site to read this and some of his other poems.    

 - Agrigento (link) is a small town in Southwestern Sicily.  Ruins of old temples of the old town, Agrigentum, are just outside the more modern town, I've been there. My picture was taken in Carleone, Italy. The home of the famous Italian Mafia has been there for quite a while. We spent one day in Carleone back in 2006. The sheep were following our bus until they decided to go around our slow traffic.

A Challenge Poem, Transforminng Nature

On My Wild Side

 

My horse, made of steel

It drinks gas and belches smoke

Not one grain of oat

 

 

 

My canyons, secure 

Steel beams, enclosed and girded

Rivers of people

 

 

My instincts, run wild

Silicon valley produced

Flash memories know

Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Picture Credits:
 - Top:  Harley Davidson Superlow, 1200T (Touring) http://www.harley-davidson.com.  Although I still have a motorcycle endorsement on my driver's license I haven't ridden one of my own since our youngest child, Karen, was born in the 70's.  I did have one and rode it at the time of our marriage.
 - Center:  New York City streets in 1936, near the present World Trade Center area.  Wikipedia, Radio Row-Berenice Abbott, Public Domain, (Link)

 - Bottom:  Copyright, © 2012 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved.  (I paid $5.00 for this old Underwood electric back when the college where I was teaching phased out typewriters in favor of computers with keyboards.)

 

I am linked with Hanna at the Real Toads, Transforming Friday with Nature's Wonders.

 - Hannah's challenge was to " include these canyons in your work...it could be the setting, color, sound quality or even explore the canyon in metaphor - the choice is yours."

 - The Canyon that Hannah referred to was Antelope Canyon in Arizona.  It "was formed by erosion of Navajo Sandstone, primarily due to flash flooding and secondarily due to other sub-aerial processes. Rainwater, especially during monsoon season, runs into the extensive basin above the slot canyon sections, picking up speed and sand as it rushes into the narrow passageways. Over time the passageways eroded away, making the corridors deeper and smoothing hard edges in such a way as to form characteristic 'flowing' shapes in the rock." (for more, see the Wikipedia article, here)

Challenge -- Bits of Inspiration ~ Nightingale

I always loved Patti Page's rendition of Mocking Bird Hill.

Mocking Bird Under Your Window

I'm the mocking bird under your window
I'm singing my song to you, my sweet love
Tra la la, my dear love, won't you come down

If I were a boy I'd throw some pebbles
Their rippling effect on your window pane
An age old song there, whispers it's sweet song

Either way I'm singing my song, again
Again and again, until you come down
I'll hold you and kiss you, we'll kiss 'til morn

We will kiss until morning, feel our love
That love will be throbbing, throb in our hearts
Mocking bird I am, singing you my love

- - - - -
.
- Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved;
- Photo from Susie Clevenger post, her from Wikipedia (below--http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/83/Luscinia_megarhynchos_Istria_01.jpg/800px-Luscinia_megarhynchos_Istria_01.jpg)

- I'm linked with Susie Clevenger at the Real Toads, Bits of Inspiration ~ Nightingale (link)

- Susie tells some things I didn't know about the Nightingale, then asked "What is your nightingale song?* Please write a new poem for the challenge..."

- - - - - -

- *My favorite Mockingbird song is Mocking Bird Hill, here are the lyrics:
(Do you remember the song?  Patti Page singing it?)

Mockin' Bird Hill

Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
It gives me a thrill
To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill
Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
There's peace and goodwill
You're welcome as the flowers on Mockin' Bird Hill

When the sun in the morning
Peeps over the hill,
And kisses the roses 'round my windowsill
Then my heart fills with gladness
When I hear the trill
Of the birds in the treetops on Mockin' Bird Hill

Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
It gives me a thrill
To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill
Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
There's peace and goodwill
You're welcome as the flowers on Mockin' Bird Hill

When it's late in the evening,
I climb up the hill
And survey all my kingdom while everything's still
Only me and the sky -- and an old whippoorwill
Singin' songs in the twilight on Mockin' Bird Hill

Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
It gives me a thrill
To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill
Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
There's peace and goodwill
You're welcome as the flowers on Mockin' Bird Hill

Tra-la-la, twiddly-dee-dee
There's peace and goodwill
You're welcome as the flowers on Mockin' Bird Hill

( http://www.songlyrics.com/page-patti/mockin-bird-hill-lyrics/ )

Sunday Mini-Challenge & Open Link Monday posts

 

A Grain of Love

It was love at first sight, she thought.

A fiery hot courtship followed, she was persistent,

their being together nearly night and day.

Wedding bells' gongs screaming

in her head, begging for fruition.

.

Our handsome young lad was making noises,

sounds of another kind, Please Mary, I need ...

When she'd hint of that blissful day he fidgeted,

coughed lowly, and begged her leave.

Worried a little she took her stand.

Devious it might be, invitations to stay increased.

  .

Oh John, O John, hold me tighter,

I love you so became her consistent whisper.

Whispered softly in his ear.

Night after night, passion abounding,

Oh Johnny, do you love me too?

  .

It took a measured while but then one night,

his wine-breathed whisper barely sounding,

I love you too, Mary, I love you too.

With wedding thoughts more intense,

she dreamed of that day,

surely coming very soon.

  .

Months had passed then her thoughts quickly changed.

  .

She'd have to ask and ask she did.

Veiled at first with feigned humor,

talk about the rabbit dying.

Made no sense to John. Come, come to me,

I'll get you a new one tomorrow.

Johnny, it isn't a real rabbit.  

No, my test said "a happy day is coming."

  .

Later that night when John was with the guys,

they told him what she had meant.  

Oh damn, O da...  He texted her that night,

gibberish about a fast job change in another town.

I'll text you when I land and

send you some money soon when I can.

 .

I am sorry. Be seeing you.

  .

Mary's note they found.

Nothing in it made much sense. 

One line "to John,"

 .

"Was there one, even one grain of love?"
 .

- - - - - -

. 

Photo, Poem Copyright, ©  2011, 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

- I'm linked with Kerry at the Real Toads, Sunday Mini-Challenge: In Other Words (Link)

- There Kerry picked a couple of novels, I am writing mine in honor of her second selection,

A Grain of Wheat, a novel by Kenyan novelist Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o

and again Monday

- with Kerry at the Real Toads, Open Link Monday (Link)

 

Dog and squirrel games -- Challenge writing

 

Dog and squirrel fun

 

Little squirrel, I hope you'll come down

Down from your tree so we can play

We'll play some more but no more chase

Game of chase, you ran up that tree

 

A new game for us, follow me

We run and run and when we're done

I take you gently by your neck

Game of shake, a dog's show of love

- - - - -

Photo Copyright, © 2008 Jimmiehov (link) and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Today I'm linked with Kerry at the Real Toads, If Only They Could Talk (Link)
and
on Monday with Magaly at the Real Toads, Open Link Monday (Link)

Kerry's Challenge:  "reimagine an iconic literary character or monologue as presented from the point of view of a close animal companion (or one that just happens to be passing by). Alternately, you may like to write a poem about yourself from your pet's perspective. Have fun with this idea - the only stipulation is that the narrative voice of the poem be non-human."
Katrin is our 14-year-old Toy Poodle.  She was eight when the picture was taken and the dog/squirrel game of "chase" ended with the squirrel up the tree.  Katrin was new then to us, she was given to us, when the former owner died we were her choice. (more Katrin posts HERE)
Adi,  my beagle dog (she died a couple of years ago) shows us how dogs play the game of "shake": (more Adi posts HERE)
 [from my YouTube postings: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEGXiWws33E&list=PL38B949635D7A06A8
 

My iconic literary character?  It might be one of Edgar Allen Poe's "victims",
i.e., "The Pit and the Pendulum".