Bunny - a Prose Poem for the Sunday Muse

Devon Aoki
by Mikael Jansson 

I was calm 

it was calm 

beautiful sunny morning 

eating grass and 

once in a while

scratching my ear 

seems I'd done this 

near every day of my life 

Contentment 

surrounded me 

my mother had 

taught me well

cows and horses 

were my friends 

the pigs leave them alone 

they group together 

have a life of their own 

Dogs 

dogs were different 

to them you are prey 

a real meal treat 

raw and bloody 

unlike the 

two legged folk who 

take you in 

bake your brains 

my mother taught me well 

choose my friends 

with care mind my 

surroundings 

Different 

differently 

this day started  

I stopped munching 

wet grass wouldn't last 

groups of folk 

riding horses 

horses my friends 

but not today 

captive and submissive 

to leather and whips 

And 

the dogs 

pretty ones 

hounds of a kind 

finding a bunny 

bunny rabbit like me 

it was me 

chasing me in circles 

closer and closer 

to tragedy  

I had to run 

to where there 

was no end 

Friend 

my friend 

they'd shot him dead 

laying there in the grass 

I was to be next 

Backyard Bunny Rabbit at Peace 
©Jimmiehov 2016 

Broke 

somehow 

I'd broken away 

out of my circle 

I ran and hopped 

this way gun in hand 

how did that get there 

could I shoot it 

with my small 

paw 

Why 

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 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Side Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2016, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo with others to choose from Carrie at the Sunday Muse #245 at  

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/02/sunday-muse-245.html?m=1 

 - Note, 223 words used for this write of a Maximum of 369 allowed, always now

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The Riders - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

 The Homeless 

    Horse and Rider 

A homeless pair 

nameless two 

walking the streets 

he was a stray 

she has run away 

they lived under a bridge 

ate whatever 

folk in passing cars 

would bring 

or drop 

into their buckets 

more money than food 

money that was 

hard to spend 

they'd ride 

to the edge of town 

plains to the north 

seashore to the south 

there they'd 

gallop to 

their content 

bareback 'cause 

she'd hocked his saddle 

then one day 

they didn't come 

homeless horse had died 

no animal cemetery 

in their town 

where could she turn 

there'd be no wagon for him 

dog food and glue 

from processed horse 

not in her vocabulary 

what to do 

with her dead homeless horse 

horse with no name 

horse without a saddle 

what to do 

she cried and cried 

and cried the next night 

her homeless horse was gone 

gone but still here 

dead 

here dead leaving her alone 

the second morning 

she didn't wake 

she'd died crying 

crying to sleep 

sleep that didn't wake 

autopsies told 

O.D. for her 

worn out for him 

no more were the 

homeless riding 

pair 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for the Prompt Photo at the Sunday Muse #240,  

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/12/sunday-muse-240.html?m=1 

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My Path - a Metaphorical Poem {??} for Sunday Muse

Surreal Image by Robert Jahn

I walk a narrow road 

more narrow than 

the width of my foot 

It has no curbs 

nor a fence 

and 

not a shoulder at all

No intersections 

except 

for one 

One for the 

light beam walkers and 

most of them can fly 

Fly as the June bug 

the one who 

flies to its death 

trying 

trying to get to the light 

For the light I have no desire 

that path I'll not try 

My desire is to make it 

make it to the other side 

In one piece if I may 

falls are hard and 

there's no one 

to help 

Some never make it up 

their lifeless bodies 

waiting for the hearse 

Others give it up 

they're tired of trying 

so they too 

wait for the hearse 

The hearses go 

in two directions, 

up 

and 

down 

Like an elevator where 

gravity 

pulls it down 

The desirable path 

for us is 

straight across 

Straight and narrow 

is the path to take, 

leave it not 

Left or right 

those ways lead quickly 

quickly lead to 

Down

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I am linked with Carrie at the Sunday Muse #237 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/11/sunday-muse-237.html?m=1 

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Card Queen - a Little Poem for Sunday Muse

 

     My Queen

I looked into the deck for relief 

The Queen of Hearts quickly came to me 

Turns out she'd been appointed to me 

To me as my loving guard angel 

As if there really is such being 

Not superstitious.  I don't believe 

What I get I've earned, angel's lacking 

But I'll keep my Queen, all mine all mine 

I'll keep her in my pretty green box 

In that box I've kept my treasures loved 

My firsts, baby spoons to wedding rings

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photos from Carrie at the Sunday Muse #232, 

  https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/10/sunday-muse-232.html?m=1 

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Morgan Freeman - a short Iregular Ode in Tribute

 Morgan Freeman place in my mind 

Forever you're my favorite  

Favorite male actor laureate 

Chauffeur supreme I remember 

Driving Miss Daisy everywhere 

Never complaining movie wise 

Assigned an undignified role 

Yet awards galore say, "Bravo"

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Addendum:                                    

Old man of my generation 

While you're still working I'm retired 

Upcoming movie: A Good Person

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 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Carrie at the Sunday Muse #231 for the picture prompt at 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/10/sunday-muse-231.html?m=1#comment-form 

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The Daughter - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

 

She was her father's girl 

Carried his image where she went 

Girl was the 'apple of his eye'

School girl one if there ever was 

Day and night carried that image 

Flowers in hand for her teacher 

Haven where father couldn't go 

Jealous he stayed at home 

This her special day 

Girl had reached her sixteenth birthday 

Be a young woman when she wished 

Every lady remembers that 

Was day to leave her daddy home 

Stayed with her image in his mind 

Surprise surprise boys noticed her 

Looks in eyes she'd not seen before 

Days young men's fancy turns to love 

Sixteen changed vision changed passions 

Woman of her own desires

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for Picture Prompt at the Sunday Muse #230 at 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/10/sunday-muse-230.html?m=1 

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The Journey - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

  

Up; and loaded up 

We loaded up our old wagon 

and headed for California 

On top our earthly possessions 

Gold rush was over still there's jobs 

The kids and I were in the back 

Couple of kids and dog way back 

This would be my very last move 

Had an obituary in my briefcase 

Some clothes were stuffed in there as well 

Traveled light this would be my last 

When we got to Albuquerque 

wasn't feeling well, pain in chest  

They dumped me off and traveled on 

Said some prayers for me said goodbye 

Right there at the morgue I'd passed away 

I'm standing here now, Pearly Gates 

Saint Peter's directing traffic 

Some go Right, the others were wrong 

 

Never in my life 

was a lefty 

Kicking ye Old Bucket 

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Knockin' On Heaven's Door/Lyrics

Search Results

Main Results

Mama, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Robert Dylan

Knockin' On Heaven's Door lyrics © Ram's Horn Music, Universal Tunes 

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 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Carrie for the picture prompts, at The Sunday Muse #229 where she has more, other writers' URLS also, 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-229.html

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She had a Fan - a Poem for the Sunday Muse

Louise Brooks, fashion icon of the 1920's

 

Flapper with Fan 

She was a flapper girl 

Flapper fresh off from farm 

Flapper of the Twenties 

Carried a flimsy fan 

A fancy formal fan  

Front decorated fresh 

Shy, fear of being found 

Safely behind the fan 

She carried for safety 

Of whom was she afraid 

City friend she hadn't found 

Afraid learning to kiss 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for my Picture Prompt at the Sunday Muse #228, 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-228.html 

 - Read her words and find others writing from viewing of her pictures 

 - "Flappers were a subculture of young Western women in the 1920s who wore short skirts (knee height was considered short during that period), bobbed their hair, listened to jazz, and flaunted their disdain for what was then considered acceptable behavior. Flappers were seen as brash for wearing excessive makeup, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes in public, driving automobiles, treating sex in a casual manner, and otherwise flouting social and sexual norms." Wikipedia, Read More 

 - My dad used to tease my mom by saying that when he found her, she was a Flapper

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Table Games - a Poem for Sunday Muse

 .

 

We are flying our home flag today for her

U.S. America is flying our flags half mast in tribute to Queen Elizabeth III 

  

.

A Lagniappe #1:  Our friends from Towcester, Northamptonshire, England,

[our flag]

 invited us to watch with them for the passing of Queen Elizabeth on her way to open Parliament.  "We didn't see the little mouse but we did see the Queen.  I tell people that she waved to me.  She was in her carriage on her way to address Parliament on their opening day.   Just our luck, I had brought my camera but wouldn't you know on this particular day I left the battery at the flat in its charger. 

"So this picture I did not take but rather it is a British press release photo which I photographed with my camera. . . " (Read more and see more of our London of Spring 2012 holiday here.) 

Note:  We also saw her, coming out in her Land Rover from the Balmoral Castle, we were going in and so we pulled to the side while she was passing us.   Mrs. Jim and I liked her a lot, as many times as we have been to the U.K., she seemed to us as our Queen also.  May she RIP.

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     Playing Chess 

He played in the light 

but near the shadow 

Mentor staying close 

Standing close watching, 

or in player's mind 

He had taught him well   

Mentor city champ, 

his student was good 

Could beat his mentor, 

one of three games 

Sophomore in college 

A senior in chess 

Skipping class for chess 

Studied not, dropped out 

Note:  That student was me, the author here.  Finally after eleven years I went back to college, night school.  Eleven more years in 1975 I graduated with three degrees.  I haven't played even ten games of chess since my dropout. I do plan to play again when I go into assisted living.  I've been retired 21 years now. 

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 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022 , All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for the Photo Prompt, at the Sunday Muse #227,  

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-227.html?m=1  

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Worries - a Poem for Sunday Muse

Photography by Elizabeth Korning 

Early Life 

She's got a tiger by the tail 

Sitten' on the top of the world

Between the tiger and the globe 

She's easily queen for a day 

Wondering now when her day will be 

Worrying bad lost her appetite 

Seems it never would come her way 

Worn silly soon she's skin and bones 

Is the queen for her not to be

We'll wait and see--Storry's moral?   

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie at The Sunday Muse #226, https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/09/sunday-muse-226.html?m=1 

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Lonely - a somewhat Dark Poem for the Sunday Muse

Photography by Alicia Savage

Awake feeling lonely again 

Once more she'd washed the dress she has 

Faithful friend mostly hides behind 

Faces the world but really not 

Incognito dwelling from all 

with all her fears 

closely behind 

Hanging that dress in the open 

Hoping, she sings find me find me  

Please I want better company 

The dress is old it's very old 

Though it's tired as she's 

 it hides not 

And her fears get washed now and then 

They never get clean like the dress 

Hidden long enough so go home 

Have a glass of wine 

soak her feet 

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 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2022, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo prompts from Carrie at the Sunday Muse, 

   https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/08/sunday-muse-224.html 

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