Weekly Scribblings -- Woo woo -- a Spine Poem

The Time Between

Light over London 

Lions of Fifth Avenue 

The Paris Seamstress 

  - - - - 

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

 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero at Weekly Scribblings #78, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/07/weekly-scribblings-78-micro-writings.html?m=1 

.

Weekly Scribblings -- The Dance

Why The Dance for Me

Why was I here, "dancing the night away?" 

Had I delusions dancer King or Queen 

Or did I enjoy it as indoor sport 

In college I loved my dancing classes 

Met classmates I would have never before 

I learned the old and the newest there be 

From the Waltz through Cha Cha to the Breakdance 

But not a soul I met in those lessons 

Have I seen in years 

After that I would try  local dances 

Going there people to meet mostly girls 

Out of town to the west that was the best 

Going south fine as well more elegant 

My roommate had made friends with a lady 

Lived across the hall--gladly bought us booze 

Drive down to Kansas legal age eighteen 

But not a soul I met at those dances 

Have I seen in years

Now when we're on à cruise lessons we'll take 

Take them before the dances to review 

Or at weddings where  we take the dance floor 

Misses brushes me up on the two step 

With her and the bride I hope I will dance 

And maybe then a few more if they ask 

But not a soul I met at the wedding  

Have I seen in years 

 .. . [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlTKhPkZSJo]

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2021, All Rights Reserved 

 -  Photo taken by me  on our ship while cruising in 2013 someplace in the Black Sea.  The dancers had boarded while we were stopped a couple of days in Istanbul. http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-random-five-post-020-venice-to-athens.html

 - YouTube previously used on my "Party Girl" poem 2016 post, https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2016/03/party-girl-challenge-poem-for-flash-55.html?m=1

 - I am linked to Weekly Scribblings #62 for Magaly Guerrero's prompt word, "Dance", at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/03/weekly-scribblings-62-shut-up-and-dance.html?m=1

 

Weekly Scribblings prose poem -- Loving Three

He "be an uncrushed flower"

A regular guy and Mother likes him.  He meets her order, she'll have kids like him.  A breeder, she calls him "Joe" 

We "burst into constellations of dance"

Way too young for most, a boy toy so nice fulfilled her every whim.  She taught him every loving move he makes. Now he's starting to make his own. Another keeper, stays with her.  She calls him "Jimmy Boy, the Butler here" 

"Love can be a monster, or not"

Her third choice truly loves her, experienced in all ways.  Taught her much.   Ravishing her over and over.  A monster with teeth of Jell-O and bubble gum mix, perfect for the tasty nibbles he takes.  She gurgles with delight and calls him "Igor".  Imagine to your wildest extent, Igor would be there

 _ _ _ 

Liked them all   

Fulfilling her needs and desires 

She's keeping all three

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem and Photo Copyright , Jimmiehov 2921, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Rommy at the Writer's Pantry #58, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/02/writers-pantry-58-is-it-spring-yet.html 

and

 - I'm linked with Magaly Guerrero at Weekly Scribblings #57, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/02/weekly-scribblings-57-let-us-write.html?m=1  

 - Magaly has written three nice poems linked by my  titles and wishes for us to use one or more of her titles for our writing.  I used all three as openings for my three paragraphs here. 

 - The pictured two inch small wooden dolls are a part of a toy village that our younger daughter had when little.  They are about 40 years old.

(And if she soured shed them one by one??)

Weekly Scribblings Poem ~~ Grandpa my Model

My Grandpa H 

Grandpa was my favorite 

He said I was his as well 

He wore a hat and a scarf 

High top work shoes Overalls 

Grandma was favorite too 

She was mild very refined 

She was a school teacher ex 

Retired got along with kids 

Grandpa was the man to be 

When I grew up I wanted 

Wanted to be just like him 

Always had something going 

He was rough around the edge 

Cussed used words I couldn't say 

Never the Lord's name in vain 

Not vulgar still not for me 

We'd go for rides in his truck 

His stud horse was in the back 

Grandpa's horses were good stock 

For his cars he liked Buicks  

There were nine of us cousins 

We were first at the table 

Grandpa said woodbox* for us 

We wondered was he teasing? 

Celebrated fifty years 

Grandpa wanted cocktails 

Grandma said there would be none 

Grandpa's bar down in the barn 

And when we grew up 

I laid claim to be 

Most like my Grandpa 

*Woodbox, a wooden box holding firewood for the kitchen cook stove

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem and Photo Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2021 and 2016 ( https://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2016/09/fridays-hunt-v210-j-is-for.html?m=1) , All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Rosemary for writing her prompt, see below,  at Weekly Scribblings  #55 , https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/01/weekly-scribblings-55-what-you-resist.html

 - Rosemary invited us "to write about turning into one of (our) parents – or about resisting that possibility."

Weekly Scribble Poem ~~ She Walked Away

  

[My Friend's 1934 Ford Coupe*]

I'm Outa Here 

Walking down their course graveled lane 

Suitcase in her hand, face troubled 

She stopped there where we were working 

Working on our thirty-four Ford 

I was under/beneath the car 

I clearly heard her say to him 

You love that blankety car more 

than you love me--take this old car 

I'm leaving you and won't be back 

 _ _ _ 

.

    When a kid drops out of college there are a lot of pastime things to do.  I had three jobs**, for fun I had a steady girlfriend, dated a few others, and learned cars from Bill, an ex professional race car. driver, who was a quality control inspector in our plant. From what I learned I was able to hop my two-year-old Ford Tudor passenger car up so fast that in street racing it would beat the other modern automobiles.***  

    We had a race car, it was very fast, one that would almost always win the Saturday night "'B' Feature Race."  We, with Bill driving most times, had to hold it back so that in the heat races it would not qualify for the "'A' Feature".    If we raced in that "A" Feature another car with a Chrysler Hemi engine would most often win in a Plymouth coupe.*  

    Sometimes I got to drive, mostly after we blew our engine and it was more than our sponsor would pay for a new one.  So the sponsor dropped us and we got another.  This sponsor wanted us to have a Chevy and he furnished us with a 1937 Chevrolet with a hopped up GMC truck engine.  

    That was what I was driving when a front wheel broke at the far corner.  I went over the dirt embankment and into a dried up salt lake.  I was not hurt and we had the car going again the next week.

    

    So, ... when Mrs. Bill came out that day, she hardly stopped walking while telling her Hub that she was leaving.  Bill didn't cry that I knew of, cry as I later was to do when my first wife left me for one of her young students (they married and divorced, both within a year). 

    I never saw Mrs. Bill again, I hope she was happier with a fresh start.  Bill recovered very fast and had a steady soon again and that blossomed into marriage

That was another short chapter in my life, his steady had a sister who liked me lots. 

 _ _ _ 

 -> Photos and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2008 and 2021.

 -> I am linked with Magaly Guerrero at 

Weekly Scribblings #51: Looking Back and Writing Forward. where I chose number 2. Weekly Scribblings #40: Walking Away 

 -> For the story part I have 348 words, Magaly wanted no more than 369.  I had used "Walking Away" before on October 6, 2020. http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2020/10/walk-away-with-me-poem-for-weekly.html

 -> Notes: 

* For more about our racing effort and this car, click here . Our car looked like the coupe above with the fenders cut back to about three inches, the running boards and headlights removed for safety, and stronger bumpers.  Our racing car number, 88, was painted on the doors and on the trunk lid.   

** My three jobs were 40 hours in a watch factory, working part time at a Car Park Garage, and Saturday nights stuffing the ads into the Sunday Lincoln Journal comics.  Eleven years later I went back to school and was awarded three degrees by going ten more years mostly night school while working.

*** Unlike the youth today, I didn't continue stoplight racing for over half a block, except out on the new Interstate Highway which was soon to open. 

 -> On the first Weekly Scribblings of the new year (Jan 6 2021), Magaly will invite us to revisit our Weekly Scribblings selection, and write new poetry or prose using one of our 2020 prompts. Please add the title (and link, if you can) of your chosen prompt to your post. Don’t feel like searching? No problem. Here are some nice choices: 

1. Weekly Scribblings #43: Found Poems and Erasures
2. Weekly Scribblings #40: Walking Away
3. Weekly Scribblings #35: The Joy of Rest 
4. Weekly Scribblings #31: What Makes You Smile?
5. Weekly Scribblings #28: Seeing Things
6. Weekly Scribblings #25: Well, That Was Unexpected
7. Weekly Scribblings #22: It Takes a Bit of Discipline
8. Weekly Scribblings #10: Early Bird or Night Owl?
9. Weekly Scribblings #9: Contagion 

An "R" Poem for Weekly Scribblings - The Tiger

Tiger Growls or Roars

 

Far tiger weirdly  

  growls or roars 

Tiger ruler 

  from Afrikar  

 

Dare our creature 

  saunter our trail 

Trace tracks near our 

  residence.  Grrrrrr ! 

 

Surprise surprise 

  tiger's our friend 

 

(My Christmas Tree blog updates about twice a week, http://jimmiehov7.blogspot.com/?m=0 ) 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I'm linked with Rosemary for Photo and Prompt at the Weekly Scribblings # 49,  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/12/weekly-scribblings-49-b-c-d-e-f-g.html?m=1

 - Rosemary asked us ro choose a letter and use it often.   Please read the self history she wrote of her experiences with letters and her learning and use of them .

 - I chose the letter "R" and used it 43 times in my 10 four syllable lines and the title.   Every word has at least one letter "R".  I did take a few liberties with my use.

 

A Blursday Poem for Weekly Scriblings -- Every day is Blursday

   [click photo for larger]
(My Day today 'virtually')

(59F and Raining at 5AM) 

(I'll be hanging out at the 

Blue Dot--another long Day)

Days of the Week;

 my how we change (not)

Every day is Blursday 

For nineteen years 

I've been 

calling them Saturday 

Except for Sundays 

Nineteen years and three months

ago 

I retired from twenty-two years 

of teaching 

Since for all that time I've been

thinking of them as Saturdays 

I have to mark the calendar

like a prisoner does

to keep the days straight 

But now the COVID has come

along.  A thief in the night 

It kills and maims, you name  

So we all hide 

Hide when we've nothing pressing 

hiding in our homes 

hiding our faces when we're out 

trying to keep the monster Corona virus 

from spreading  

Monotony 

Worse than all Saturdays is this 

new Blursday  

A writer's note:

Before teaching my working life had started:

1) three years - factory work 

2) five years - U.S. Army

3) nineteen - Aerospace Engineer at  NASA. 

(I finished college part time, eleven years, three degrees, while at NASA)

 _ _ _ _ 

 - Prose Poem and top Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero* for her neat prompt and bottom picture at Weekday Scribblings # 48 https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/12/weekly-scribblings-48-words-of.html?m=1

 - I chose 2. Blursday, see note below, as a prompt word/idea for this writing

  - NOTE:  **Magaly "invite(d) us to write new poetry or prose where the central theme revolves around one or more of the following five words:  

 1. Allyship (n. active support for the rights of a minority or marginalized group without being a member of it),  

2. Blursday  (n. a day of the week that is indistinguishable from any other),  

3. Covidiot (n. a person who disobeys guidelines designed to prevent the spread of Covid-19),  

4. Doomscrolling (n. the action of compulsively scrolling through social media or news feeds which relate bad news),  

5. Virtue-signalling (n.  the public expression of opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one’s good character or the moral correctness of one’s position on a particular issue)." 

 - The list of her new "words' grew lomger overnight, see them all at the link above 

A write, Guest Absent for the Party -- For Weekly Scribblings # 46

Little Joe had to Go; we partied without him; college dropout days

Little Joe was my best buddy then, probably unless I was having a Steady "then".  We cruised Main.  Joe loved to whistle out the window at the girls, some liked that, others didn't.  I was embarrassed when It was my car we were using. 

Little Joe got married and he and new wife were on a honeymoon. Another bachelor buddy bit the dust, we didn't do a bachelor party for him.  "It's never too late to party," especially for Little Joe, we had to party.  The party was at Little Joe's sister's house, he lived with Sis and her Hubby. 

It wasn't out of the ordinary to land someplace after our Main Street cruising was over.  Generally it was after time the girls had to be home or to "Y" if that was their home away from home.  Curfew there was 11 or 12, I can't remember.  I do remember that the dorm mom would lock the door at curfew time.

We had to wait for a weekend when Sis and them were out of town, this weekend they were to her parents' home in Western Nebraska.  We gathered our phono records to use on Joe's player and some food things for refreshments.   

My friend, Other Jim, had sampled some more wine from his uncle where he was staying.  The uncle had two barrels in his basement which we were free to tap.  As I remember none of us were twenty-one yet.  We mixed the wine with 7UP and it would last all night.  

There weren't any girls there, shouldn't have been as this was a Bachelor Party for Joe.  So we talked the night away, until everyone who could was asleep someplace in the basement.  The last record on our stack was "Night Train", very appropriate for our little get-to-gather celebration. 

That was our party for Joe. 

_ _ _ _ _

We had another for a buddy who left for the Army, a Going Away Party.  Only thing, the buddy had already left for basic training.  It was about the same though I think there were some girls there.  And our drinks may have been different. 

I did go to another meeting, a funeral, where the guest was absent, this was years later for a working friend.  (I posted about this one in my comment below.) 

_ _ _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Rosemary at the Weekly Scribblings # 46, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/11/weekly-scribblings-46-lets-celebrate.html

Rosemary has asked us to write something celebratory, or to tell us about a particular celebration, real or imagined 

 - My first comment I wrote, and told more about the party for the working friend.

A Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 45 -- Dread Consumed

Carnival Dreams, by Shelle Kennedy

Hearts on Sleeves; 

"Sins of the Fathers"

How can I smile with my heart on my sleeve 

Like a lot it's edging that way 

Already I wear it outside my vest 

A very tough life I have led 

Skeletons from my ancestors closets 

Their dastardly deeds now exposed 

Some of mine as well hanging on the stairs 

Hidden no more, out to be seen 

They're there in plain sight--bug me every day 

Great-Uncle John whipped slaves to death 

Aunt Bess bore fourteen illegitimates  

Grandpa Jones rode with Bonnie's Clyde 

Seems there hardly could be no worse than these 

But that was them, angel I'm not 

Nothing heinous like they buried here 

Indiscretions young often take  

For all my rude transgressions hurtful be 

I've begged forgiveness  and pardon 

Most have given me solace and kindness 

That helps me some but kin remain 

Their mistakes and wicked life I must bear

They're dead and gone but I am here 

Here with their sad reputations to bear 

Their skeletons smell of their sins 

Closer and closer my grieving heart moves 

Reaches my sleeve I'll take no more 

You'll see me no more I have run away 

Joined the carnival lost my mind 

 _ _ _ 

 - Note to my readers:  THIS IS FICTION.  My crazy muse wouldn't leave me until I hit the "Post" button.  The title could be "Sins of the Fathers".  I'm making it a subtitle now. 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero for her picture ,  Carnival Dreams, by Shelle Kennedy, for Weekly  Scribblings # 45.  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/11/weekly-scribblings-45-artistic.html 

 - Magaly's prompt instructions were, "... to write new poetry or prose inspired by one (or all) of the three paintings shared on this link: ‘Beautiful, YOU are’ by Magic Love Crow, ‘Delightful Donkey’ by Gina Morley, and/or ‘Carnival Dreams’ by Shelle Kennedy. For this prompt, your imagination is the limit.  

Delightful Donkey, by Gina Morley

 - The donkey was cute but I chose the Shelle painting.

. 

"eye of the hurricane" -- a Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 44

 Hurricane Ernesto, a tropical storm hits Florida in 2006. The "eye" is in the middle of the blue swirl 

Satellite Map, 11:00 PM EDT on August 27, 2006
Click picture, then do f11 to enlarge
Photo courtessy of Weather Underground and NASA 

 _ _ _ 

The Storm 

We walked through the eye of the hurricane 

Gathering sticks, throwing stones, kicked a can 

Little did we know the can was a home 

Home to liars and cheats scum of the earth 

In there hiding from storm, and their victims 

'Tis said their kind wins battles loses wars 

So the can was kicked into the gutter 

Where the scum had come, now floating down stream 

And when the eye moved on new scum was born 

All good blown down or blew away--we cried 

Our efforts in vain 

Where can justice live? 

 _ _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked with Rommy at the Weekly  Scribblings # 44, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/11/weekly-scribblings-44-eye-of-hurricane.html?m=1

 - for the Weekly Scribblings, our Rommy would like us to craft our words around the phrase: “eye of the hurricane”. We can choose to do this literally or figuratively.   

 - Two years later: 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=RSWPmNskZj4

[Jim1Jim1 YouTube]

.
We had no damage to our home, not even a shingle was lost. The winds reached about 80 MPH for a couple of hours. 

Then we lived in Montgomery, Texas,  which was 105 miles north of the shoreline of the Gulf of Mexico.  Now we live near Katy, Texas, about 75 miles from the Gulf.

.

Where the Wolf Found Herself ~~ an Erasure Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 43

Challenges to Some 

Walking through high school's doors 

Had almost forgotten 

What it was like 

Watching change of atmosphere  

Everyone is monotone 

People are online, all virtual 

The shift was from hosting 

To being hesitant 

Their health failed to stay home 

I have friends I understand 

Dedicated to teaching change 

Switch to in-person 

The Second Wolf broadcasts 

a long time around--many people 

Trying to reprieve her first day back 

Found herself to a pep rally 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo and being an Erasure Poem so that All Words and Characters copied and/or photo copied from Pages A1 and A17, titled "50,000 area students swap screens for being on scene"  from the Huston Chronicle,  Wednesday October 28, 2010. 

 - I have linked to Rosemary who asked for an Erasure Poem or Found Poem (I chose the Erasure Poem) for our Weekly Scribbling # 43, at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/10/weekly-scribblings-43-found-poems-and.html 

 - My guide lines for the Erasure poem are: (on this blog from a previously posted Erasure Poem, "Wire to Wire", on Wednesday February 12, 2014  at http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2014/02/wednesday-challenge-fancy-that-kid.html )

 To write an erasure poem from a local news story which posted today.  Your erasure poem may be as long or short as you would like, but you must adhere to the following rules

1. You cannot add text to your poem.  All lines must already exist within the news story.
2. You cannot change the order of the words or lines.  They must appear in the same order which they appeared in the story. 

October is Here~~ a Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 39

 

[click on picture a couple of times for larger]

October Has Arrived

The last vinca's blooming

Rabbits' last brood has hatched

Green grapes finished their song

Migration's almost through

Nature doing her thing

 

October and this pen

Third - great niece's Wedding

Fifteenth - sister's Birthday

Thirtieth - Candy Corn

Day, and the Pen's Birthday

Thirty-first Halloween

 

Plants, animals and me

We all have a great day

 _ _ _

 

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

 - I am linked with Magaly at the Weekly Scribblings # 39; October thrills,  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/09/weekly-scribblings-39-october-thrills.html 

 - Every year I buy myself a sack of Candy Corn for my Birthday as National Candy Corn Day is also on October 30.

.

Water and Stuff ~~ a Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 38

Clouds, Stuff, and Us

Here we sit 

Under Joe Btsplk's clouds *

Spilling rain 

As it goes round and round 

On a leash 

It's mother tightly holds 

Hurricane 

Storm Beta is her name 

Some will flood 

We think it not be us 

Abandoned 

Cars by the roadside sit 

Sixty-nine 

The year was bad for us 

Thirty-three 

Inch water in our house 

"All just stuff"

That's what the wet are told 

Not quite true 

Memory jogs ruined 

Time it takes 

"Just stuff" to get regained 

Joe Btsplk *

Please move your clouds along 

Reminders**

We will miss them ever 

  _ _ _ 

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

  - I'm linked with Rommy at Weekly Scribbles # 38,  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/09/weekly-scribblings-38-helping-string.html?m=1

  -"for our ... Weekly Scribblings, [Rommy] would like us to write poetry or prose inspired by the thought of “things meant only as a temporary or hidden support.”" 

  - Notes: 

   * Joe Btsplk was an unlucky man in the Lil' Abner comic strip who constantly bore a raining cloud over his head.  {Google images here)

  ** When our house flooded with Tropical Storm Claudette in 1979 our most treasured ruined stuff was the most of our photographs from over the years.   We lost more, all of our furniture, three cars, and a motorcycle.  The house but not the furniture were insured.  

       Mrs. Jim, Adi Beagle Dog, and our daughter, age five, and I left by a high window in one of the bedrooms.   Also we have moved from that house and it flooded twice more for new owners.  They had been advised.  It might be flooded again today, 9-22-2020. 

.

Goodby World--Cruel or Nice ~~ a Poem for Weekly Scribblings

I am writing;
  final message to the world 

I am writing to my dear friends
Acquaintances too
With time passing fast near my end
Numbered days are few

I'm saying my goodbyes to you
Be my end tonight
Or several dreary days or two
I'll give up the fight

Don't worry for me cry boohoo 
I've led a good life
Done everything I need to do
And nice to my wife

Raised five good kids they're much like me
Six grandkids like them
Four great-grands aged twenty to three
And two Diadems**

Been places I wanted to go
With six continents
Artic Circle and Cape Good Hope
Skyscrapers and tents

Kissed the Blarney Stone saw the Queen
Pet the kangaroo
Walked the Wall of China between
Twenty times I've cruised

Lay here bored to tears on my face  
Aimed to better place

Farewell

Writer's Notes: 
 - I am in fairly good health and dying is not in my plans for a bit.  But "I have done all the things I need to do" and most of the things that I want to do.
 - **Diadems.  They are the two Family Jewels, great-great-grandchildren, ages one and three.
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved
 - Photo and theme, A Last Written Work, hosted by Rosemary for Weekly Scribblings # 37 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/09/weekly-scribblings-37-last-messages.html?m=1
 - Per Rosemary's request, "today I ask you to write your own death-bed reflections – way ahead of time, we trust! I'd like a new piece of writing, please, in prose or poetry."