Lovely Onion Cries -- a Poem for dVerse Poetics and Friday Writings

    To the Lovely Onion 

Lovely Onion, why do you cry 

I'm the one who should be crying  

Role to cry, not yours, 'til I die  

You're so beautiful when you're sliced 

Your rings gleaming with joy you serve 

Crisp and ever kept when on ice 

Your tangy taste brought to the fore 

When you're breaded and brown and fried 

Your lovers always cry for more 

Healthy food you match so many 

Vitamins, minerals and fiber 

Salted for sodium and taste 

Lovely onion, I see not you should cry 

Lovers abound in this world you to try 

    _ _ _ 

The fine print:

 -  Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2013* and 2023, All Rights Reserved **

 - I am linked with Melisa Lemay, guest host, dVerse Poetics: Peeled Away, at   

    https://dversepoets.com/2023/08/01/poetics-peeled-away/ 

 - I am linked Magaly for the prompt at Friday Writings # 88 ,   

   https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

 - Magaly has asked us to write of "poetry or prose, which includes a cliché used in an unusual way.  I opted out on that, but I can't even say "better late than never" because I might "never" do that.  

 - Notes:

    * http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2013/11/potato-with-texas-bbq.html  

  **See my other poems or writes on this blog using or about Onions here, 

    https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/search?q=onion 

     and on my other active blog here, 

    https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/search?q=onion

    Included above is my recipe for making a delicious egg sandwich using Onions.  Yummy (BTW, notice how I make a square fried egg in the microwave--it fits the bread better) ,

    https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2012/06/e.html 

 - To read others using Onions in their works for the prompt, 

    click here

.. 

Fools? -- Poem, a Write for Friday Writings

  

             We the Farmers; Foolish Pair  

            Having killed our goose to eat 

            Goose that laid the golden egg 

            And eaten rest of our flock 

            Farmer boy, got city job 

            My wife was cleaning houses 

            Wages pooled we'd buy new flock 

            Hoping to train the new geese 

            More who would lay golden eggs 

            We would be rich like the kings 

            Spent money on geese, goose things 

            Geese ate well happy and sleek 

            Worked hard for our goal to meet 

            (Died poor all for golden dream)  

            (Golden eggs are never real)

                          _ _ _ 

               

 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved (photo is of "Bing" search for "Goose That Laid the Golden Eggs")

 - I am linked with Rosemary for the Friday Writings #75  at            https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

 - Rosemary has asked us to "take a well-known myth or fable and write as one of the main characters (not necessarily retelling their story so much as inhabiting their skin)."

 - Read some of the Aesop's Fables at this URL,  

   https://interestingliterature.com/2021/09/best-aesop-fables-summaries/ 

 - The original Aesop's tale of the Golden Goose should be there 

.. 

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....

.. 

I Chose You -- Personal Challenge

I Chose You

I parked my motorcycle on that day
Day when I chose you, all the time hoping
Hoping you'd smile, say to me, "I choose you."

Left the highway's lure the day I chose you
Crawfish fest, other fun, still calling me
Wishing still you'd say "I'll go there with you"

Leave my riding group?  They'll miss me a lot
Never did have a biker chick to stay
One you wouldn't be. I could stay with you

Thank you Sweet, I love you so much. You see,
my motorcycle's parked by your front door
From the day you said to me, "I chose you"

So goodbye High Rollers, been a nice ride
I've began a new life, minding my clan
.

......[click once, then twice on picture to enlarge, 'Back' to return]
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _ _ _ _ _ _

Photo and poem copyright, © Jimmiehov 2014, all rights reserved

Today I'm linked with Marian at The Toads, The Valley (link)

Marian posted a YouTube video of David Hidalgo giving his rendition of the older song, "The Valley (Los Lobos)," (Link) .  Below I reproduced the lyrics to this wonderful song of a people, probably men, who settled down in the California Valley area, working, to raise and feed their families.  The song tells me of a sacrifice made for the sake of family.

Her Challenge, " ... I hope you will be inspired by David Hidalgo, Los Lobos, "just another band from East LA," the Barrio, wolves, National Geographic magazine, putting food on the table, hard work, making a home, making a life, finding light from darkness or whatever moves you to write a new poem and share it with us today. "
_ _ _ _ _ _

My poem after listening to David and reading the lyrics several times is partly true, some of it is from Mrs. Jim's and my life.  Before I met Mrs. Jim I did ride a motorcycle, and continued to ride it until our daughter was born.  The 'High Rollers' is a motorcycle club I rode with on occasion, the "Pasadena High Rollers."  Our proposal and marriage didn't' quite go the way of the poem, but it took, lasting so far 41 years.

The picture is of me with my 'clan' of the women resulting from our marriage, four grandchildren, our daughter, and Mrs. Jim.  From left to right, three grand-daughters front row, Megan, KP, BP, second row, grand-daughter Jenna, Mrs. Jim, and daughter Karen. 
_ _ _ _ _ _

LOS LOBOS
"The Valley"

In ancient times
To a place so far away
Across the land
Where the earth was
As tough as clay

Looked at their hands
Looked all around
And they seemed pleased
At what they had found

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able
Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the shadows
Into the light

They could have gone
But instead they chose to stay
To watch the clouds way up high
As they turned to gray
And through the dark
Broke a crimson sun
And at that moment
Knew their lives had just begun

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able
Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the darkness
Into the light

Here in the valley
Bread on the table
Work through the day
For as long as we are able

Green is the valley
Blue is the night
Out of the darkness
Into the light

from:
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/los_lobos/the_valley.html

One Single Impression: Angel

Angels on My List

My angel waits above my head in bay
I know she does, she's my protective marm
I pray to God I need her watching way
like moms of old she saves me from all harm

My angel lives with me she is my spouse
Pretty for me and queen of mine so sweet
I love her all, hands to feet, heart and soul
the greatest gal that I could ever meet

My angel lives with me my little child
This kid is smart and quick she's always near
she follows me around puppy dog style
I love my angel small this little dear

So now you know exactly what it takes
my angel list is short but hard to make

Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

I'm back and should be reading your poems and returning your comments. My other blog is in slow motion (link) but I will try to practice blogging etiquite here. I have a lot to do catching up for the holiday time off.

Mrs. Jim is still in London with Karen and KP until August 4 doing Granny Nanny duty.

Prompt word, Angel was suggested by Meduri at The Land of Dreams...!!!
Find more poems at One Single Impression using "angel" as prompt

One Single Impression: Overt

.............Bright............and............Dismall............

Brothers: Overt and Covert

Once there were two brothers of Wright
they were different as night and day
Fred was always dapper and bright
Ted was quiet, loved wearing grey

Fred was open, always forthright
ask him he'd tell your answer plain
but Ted talked in riddles not right
kept his thoughts inside how insane

Died years ago now with the ants
shared their tombstone aptly inscribed
Fred--open frank and apparent
Ted--hidden secret and disguised

Depends on how you write your book
do you want your friend's second look

Photos and Poem Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

I will try to read your poems and return your comments. If I don't, please forgive me. Mrs. Jim and I are still on holiday. Now we are in London visiting Karen, Billy, and KP who have moved here.

Prompt word, Overt, suggested by Gautami at Rooted

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Overt" as prompt

One single impression: Ochre

Roussillon from eyes of a tourist

Roussillon*, Vaucluse, of France
Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region
town very red lacks elegance
lovely quaint little place I've been

Houses of red the streets are too
show red ochre's dull resilience
high on hill ochre mine below
viewed from precious vineyard of France

Waiting for Godot** started here
Samuel Beckett's home for the war
tourists come but don't linger near
just a weird spot seen from their car

You can see it too—go
rent a car don't be slow

Photos and Poem Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

Red ochre, Fe2O3, the anhydrate of yellow ochre (Fe2H2o), which turns red when heated, as this drives off the water ligands.

** Waiting for Godot was finished in 1949 and its first playing was in 1953. Beckett lived in Rousillon earlier during World War II.

.

*Roussillon link 1, link 2.

Prompt word, Ochre, suggested by David Dickens at Nothing Hypothetical

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Ochre" as prompt

One note here: Thank you for reading. I would love for you to leave a comment but I will not be able to return your comments until a later day as we are on holiday.

A hint as to where we will be can be seen on Jim's Little Blog come Tuesday.

One Single Impression: Oubliette*

.

Jailed man picture: Nicolas Fouquet and replica prison cell in the
Vaux-le-Vicomte cellar. (see below—click on picture to enlarge)
.
Love's ending
.
There once was a cute young couple in love
everywhere one went the other was found
one day the sky fell he sinned to above
sinned to her--sinned to God--now there's no bond

You I hate you can rot away in jail
crying big tears jail is too good for you
there is no way that I'm making your bail
it's written in my book of love we're through

You tread on marriage soil gift from our friend
adultery is against the law in France
I hope you will burn in the final end
vows are broken sacred for our romance

Unpardonable sin yours I declare
forgiveness will not be coming from here
.
- - - - - -
.
Poem and Photo Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved
.

We visited the Fouquet's Castle during our Our 2009 European Holiday.  It is located about 60 km southeast of Paris, France.  Or about an hour's drive in light traffic. 
.
Jailed man picture: Nicolas Fouquet replica prison cell in the Vaux-le-Vicomte cellar. Fouquet was replaced as Minister of Finance by his his cunning agent and successor Jean-Baptiste Colbert. "In early 1665 Fouquet was transferred to the fortress of Pignerol. There, Eustache Dauger, the man identified in contemporary official correspondence as the Man in the Iron Mask, served as Fouquet's manservant. The former minister bore his imprisonment with manly fortitude, and composed several mediocre translations in prison. The devotional works bearing his name are apocryphal.
According to official records, Fouquet died in Pignerol on March 23, 1680." Wikipedia Article for more.

.*Oubliette -- Pronunciation: \ˌü-blē-ˈet\ Function: noun Etymology: French, from Middle French, from oublier to forget, from Old French oblier, from Vulgar Latin *oblitare, frequentative of Latin oblivisci to forget — more at oblivion
Originally: (1819) a dungeon with an opening only at the top

.

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Oubliette" as prompt
Prompt word "Oubliette" was suggested by Rigel of My Dreams up Close

One Single Impression: Icarus

The Meeting of Icarus and Amelia Earhart

Twas a somber yet happy occurrence
Icarus moldering in his watery grave
Amelia tending to this young man's wounds
Each had thoughts of the world as theirs to save

Icarus his escape simple but sure
flapping wings of wax soared high unquestioned
Amelia flew borne by her ego great
Each flying madly with care abandoned

Icarus at the Aegean Sea's bottom
she worlds away learned not through his mistake
he oblivious those eons before
Each alone grieving in cold watery fate

Alone is alone meeting cannot be
The world goes on heroism's not free

Top Picture: The Lament for Icarus
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Lower Right Picture: Amelia 1936
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Amelia Earhart Story
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Poem Copyright
© 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

Prompt suggested by Titanium at Element 22

Find more poems at One Single Impression using "Icarus" as prompt