April -- NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 22 -- Doctor's Advice -- and a Poem for Sunday Muse

“Pointlessness” by Fine Art Photographyer Lara Zankoul 

Her Mistake 

She doesn't understand her doctor's cure 

She takes his advice literally 

He's told her the fix for her jitters 

That would be for her to get her broom 

She's to take her broom and bucket 

Go to the edge of the sea 

Sweep the sand, dump it into the sea 

When she has finished find another 

She took his advice literally 

Didn't understand his metaphors  

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Carrie for the Photo from her selections for the Sunday  Muse #256 at 

 https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/04/sunday-muse-256.html?m=1 

 - I am also linked with NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month, Day 22 , 

    https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-two-9/ 

 - My entry time was around 8:07 Central Standard Time if you'd care to see my entry posted.  The picture is not there.

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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....

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April -- NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 01 -- it Starts Today + The Sunday Muse, writes

 

Just the Two; 

Once upon a time; 

No Apple to Bite  

Once upon a time New Earth was barren 

Barren, void and empty planet waiting 

Ready and waiting for second version 

God had put it there ready and waiting 

Now comes the Wymps a couple found special 

Special in that they were clean--minds were purged 

  Knew nothing not one thing memories were blank 

Ready for the Master's Hand--one key stroke   

Voilà!! New Creation off and running 

Much better than Version One-

-sans Free Will 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehove 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo and Prompt from NaPoWriMo, National Poem Writing Month Day One, for a book cover prompt of my choice for the top Photo,

    https://www.napowrimo.net/poets-start-your-engines/ 

    and The Art of Book Covers, one of the covers above, 

    https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/the-art-of-book-covers-1820-1914

 - I am also linked with Carrie, The Sunday Muse #252 for her photo prompt, the bottom photo, at  

    https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/04/sunday-muse-253.html

Notes: 

    Last year, and for several years prior, I had written a poem every day.  I will decide later about this year, this is my start.  I also need to get my U.S. Federal Income Tax Ready by April 15th 

    Here are liniks for my last year's writes: 

NaPoWriMo 2022, NaPoWriMo 2022b, NaPoWriMo 2022c, NaPoWriMo 2022d,

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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/

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For "Her Kind" -- a Poem for the Sunday Muse

 

    Banished 

Banished she was, 

banished from her old 

stump on the corner 

The stumping corner 

where she'd paid her dues 

Dues that hurt, dues for 

audiences' pleasure 

Limited to what she could say 

and still stump from that old place 

place on a corner of 

London's Hyde Park 

She'd talk of women's rights, 

rights of the poor to survive, 

rights to choose church of choice, 

and rights to change one's xxx 

Oh there were others too 

unpopular stances she'd take 

Even then needed a permit 

city of London, to stump there, 

there in the city of freedom 

So she moved her stance to 

a field held by an uncle 

Someone's uncle 

a man she didn't know

didn't know and couldn't find 

Permit not needed now 

out of London's Hyde park 

Tell it like she likes, 

tell it like it really is and/or 

like it should be 

Her audiences will come 

hot chocolate when it's cold 

coffee and scones then too 

Ice cold tea and ice cream

when it's hot, sandwiches always 

Her "kind of people" coming now 

more will be soon as word gets out 

Where to find her new stump 

where the goodies for tummies are 

Look, see, they're coming now 

Fern's on her fingers topics, 

reminders for the day, and 

make sure "her kind" are voting 

Outside Hyde Park, one "corner's" gate (November, 2022) 

 

A walkway inside Hyde Park, 11-2022

 

Taken in 2013 inside Hyde Park, London, U.K.

Same scene as above, November, 2022 
[click on any picture, once, or twice for larger viewing]

     _ _ _    

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved   

 - I am linked with Carrie for the picture prompt, The Sunday Muse #251, 

   https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/03/sunday-muse-251.html

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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. 

    ..

"Does she love me?" -- a Write for the Sunday Muse

Shivers; 

all about love

She loves him she loves him not 

Sitting on threshold of love 

Somberly he thinks of that 

Seems three petals yet to go 

Selection by kiddie love 

Some never outgrow this stage 

Some wish upon a bright star 

_ _ _  

- Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

- I am linked with Carrie for the picture prompt, The Sunday Muse #248 

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/02/sunday-muse-248.html 

- A "Seven's ditty", Seven lines each with Seven syllables all Seven start the same letter.

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Man with the Keys -- a Write for the Sunday Muse

On my way 

I'm flying my way to eternity

God furnished this silver beast of the sea 

I'm passing over where I had used to live 

Now high in the sky not allowed to dive 

That means there really is no turning back 

Peered into my tube those behind I see 

Distant relatives not waving at me 

They've decided to stay and not to go 

Another winter stay--play in the snow 

Fearful and masked for them it's too late now 

Some are trying to come up anyhow 

Their future I don't know--for sure they'll bow 

They've waded in the pond to have a dip 

Saw sister doing--saw sense not a bit 

Friend Peter at the door--he has the key 

Others struggling like scare crows they can't move 

Stuck in the ground to ride their earthly poles 

Wings won't fly that way--only to the east  

Their need like sister's silver flying beast 

Stuck tied to the ground will never get loose 

Comes the new dawn skyscrapers turn to trees 

The forest gives those with a light the creeps 

Worms are scurrying underground to hide 

Wait until dawn try the problem to find 

Darkness--Moon, Sun, and shining light go out 

All doors are locked there's no way to go up 

Masses crowd into the hall--push and shove 

Safety inside? This isn't really right 

Outside there seems to be no help or light 

Friend Peter minds the door--he has the key 

Tombstones fallen and graves to fill 

Emptied by beasts--they've silver wings and gills 

We're going to Peter, man with the keys 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2023, All Rights Reserved 

 - Pictures and Photo furnished by Carrie Van Horn for our inspiration at the Sunday Muse #247,  

     https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/02/sunday-muse-247.html 

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