Saturday, November 19, 2022

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
_ _ _ 

I am linked with Carrie at the Sunday Muse #237 
..
..

Labels: , , , ,

Thursday, April 09, 2020

Day 9 of NaplPoWriMo 2020 - a Poem to Comfort

  [Click picture to enlarge] 

Basics of Comforting 

Pathetic Fallacy
Back to the basics
To there we find a path
A path which is etic to cure
Yon mountain hidden dale
We climb that big hill
View the other side
Peace in valley
We will find

The climb

Climb we must
To see other side
Put on our hiking shoes
Foot to path pet the bunny
Turtle pig cow and lion come
Natural enemies combine
To save the turtle
Life on the hill
Our friend

At the top

Fresh air
Gentle breeze
Blows through our hair
Smell the flowers yellow
Purple reds and orange abide
High climber's rich reward
Pick some for our vests
Enjoy the pretty view
Peace there abides
Stay we mustn't
Below calls

Almost there

Going down
That is easy part
We get there fast can't dally
Sweets there to find
Aren't you glad
We came

Our Reward

See the spread
Laid out food and drink, ours
Linen sheets feather pillows
Gyms pools friends and wifi
Paths are strewn with gold
Ours to pick, shall not want

Here we stay, campers not 
Find music -- soothe our souls 
 _ _ _ 

 - Photos and Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved (photo northwest of Capetown,  South Africa)
 - Links: Weekly Scribblings: Imaginary Garden; and NaPoWriMo Day 9 
 - See above links for multiple prompts, Comfort/Pathetic Falacy, Words Count (60 Words Count - saved for another day), and a Shape Poem

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Places that Heal, a Poem for Saturday



A man's retreat must have wheels

The day before had been hard
He strapped on his helmet, it
signaled his path to freedom
Two wheels, point 125
liter powered his Vespa

The path to Old Mexico
was beckoning him that day
He'd forget troubles at home
hard with four kids and a wife
These two were but kids themselves

Customs passed, over the Bridge
Around town, sunny Juarez
Dogs bid him hello, ever
so often one would growl
Women doing the clothes line

They all waved or barked, could they
remember him from last month
Open road, breeze in his face
Passing shanties kids and dogs
Could they be as free as he

Come evening he'd be back home
The kids would hug him tight, glad
Mom, she would shrug, "Supper's done,"
"Glad you were free for the day,
you work hard and need relief"

Fifty years later retired
Old Mustang treated, top down
Toward the beach they went, speeding
The pony played that bright day
Fifty to a hundred ten

Seems both needed some relief
Mustangs should not be confined
Clear their lungs, treat their Old Man
Up and down the sandy beach
She loved the sand in her skirts

Come evening they'd head for home
Love each other as they could
He was her second owner
As was his wife to him, let
out to pasture just one day
.
.

. _ _ _ _
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 - Photo and Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov Photos 2010 (link) and 2013 (link),  Poem 2018, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Sherry Blue Sky in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2018/11/wordy-saturday-with-wild-woman-places.html
 - Top picture, http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2010/11/national-motorcycle-museum-midweek.html
 - Bottom picture, http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2013/08/six-word-saturday_30.html

Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

An Ode to Mr. Williams




Mr. Tin Man and I discussed
the death of a dear friend of mine.
Tin Man and I traveled our road,
famous yellow road of gold bricks.
 
My friend Mr. Williams and I
traveled another road, his path.
A good man, family, friends, job, and
golf were on a path that he shared.
 
He doesn't walk that road any more,
Tin Man suggested, write an ode to him.

- - - - -
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
An Ode to Mr. Williams 

Everett Williams was a dear friend of mine
We played some golf and we talked up a storm
He loved the do-overs, his Mulligans**1**
I read and shared with him that a driver
for older persons might use their three wood
Then straight down the fairway went his drives
National Senior Games found him at third place**2**
He played his age, he was ninety-five
Everett died on June Seventeen this year
I learned of it through Googling on his name 

Surprised was I, we hadn't contacted
since his final Christmas card for last year
We had moved away, a hundred miles north
But still we played golf on the cooler days
His favorite pose was with a club in hand,
leaning over a pond fishing for balls
The last I knew, Everett was still driving
He drove to the grocery store, to his church,
and to his favorite golf courses
He'd bought a new car in two-eleven 

Everett was proud of his home on the creek
and loved to tell of his blue-bonneted lane
Once he invited a lady friend over
"Come see my blue bonnet pictures," he said
I asked him, had he any etchings to show
This age-old pick up line he didn't know
He once was the water commissioner,
office he held eight years when he was young
Everett loved politics, he volunteered
one time to be my campaign manager**3**

Everett was a widower for six years
His wife, Elma, died at age ninety
They'd been married for seventy-three
He loved his kids, was proud of seven grandkids
He was a fireman for thirty-eight,
he retired his volunteer job as chief
He loved his church and was a deacon there
I will miss my friend Everett, a good friend
My regret is that we didn't play more golf,
a lot of golf after we moved away

- - - - -

Picture of Tin Man and Jim on the Yellow Brick Road and Poem Copyright, © 2014 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Everett Williams picture was on his obituary published by the Jeeter Funeral Home (link)
 [click on a picture for a larger sized view]

Today I am linked with Susie Clevenger at the Real Toads, the Yellow Brick Road

Notes:
**1** Mulligans in golf allow a golfer to have another hit in place of his previous bad shot (link)
**2** Everett place third in the 2013 Summer National Senior Association Games, golf men 95-96 (link). For about 30 years Mr. Williams has been using his three wood instead of his driver.  Before that his hits off the tee were going all kinds of places or else he would miss the ball.
**3** I ran for a newly created Justice of the Peace position.  I won the primary but lost in the general election 49+ percent to my opponent's 50+ percent.

Labels: , , , , ,

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Dream garden not -- a tribute Poem


The Opened Door

The day I found the opened door
I don't know how that came to be
Always seeing the garden there
That's one place I wanted to go

I have been seeing flowers bloom 
Rose's red, thick, some pink and firm
Irises of many colors
That open door was my invite


So out I came freedom beckoned
Down I  walked my loved path of bricks
Where flowers were I couldn't find
Two yellow iris two plain white

The pretty fountains had gone dry
One mechanical sunflower
Twas hanging on an iron pole
Books never read library locked

Walk the path 'til at the corner
Back through open door deflated
Now in my cell through my window
Four small flowers growing for me 

[a poem tribute 
to what was not]







 _ _ _

 - Photos and
Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All  Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Rommy at Weekly Scribbles, https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I did visit this garden, it was at the hospital where my SIL who had just had a stroke is recieving therapy.  I had been wanting to visit, I like to see what various gardeners' dreams have ended up being.
 - Disapointment followed as we, in the southern coastal area of Texas, have stayed green and have flowers blooming, but NOT in north Louisiana.

 - I am not and NEVER been incarcenated except for the 17 years I spent at home.

Labels: , , , , ,

Sunday, March 08, 2009

One Single Impression: Fork in the road

- - - - - - - -

which way should we go
for here's a fork in the road
you call — heads or tails

- - - - - - - -


[below is a part of Jim's May 20, 2006 post]



yesterday on our walk
my Adi and I came
to this fork in the road


.


didn't take either path

went straight up the middle

through those trees — ending up here


[a part of Jim's May 20, 2006 post, for the
remainder go here:
Jim's other 'fork in the road' post]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov. All Rights Reserved


Tag: One Single Impression Fork in the road
Geraldine of My Poetic Path brought this week's prompt
Tag: Jim's OSI
Link:
Jim's other 'fork in the road' post

Painting is easy when you don’t know how, but very difficult when you do. Edgar Dégas
The same may go for poetry? (whatever, I enjoy painting with the words!)

Labels: , , , , , , , ,

Friday, March 07, 2014

Rocks I know and ...




Rocks I know and some I don't 

Rocks are my friends, that wasn't always so
When I was young and in college my prof
Said to me, "if you'd have come more often
You would have passed mineralogy class" 

So I failed. Even so I still like rocks
I find them hiding in places I've been
From a friend one may come my way to stay
Dull or bright, to me they are pretty souls 

Now I'll introduce a few of my pets
Several in my fold have Orient blood
Polished smooth I plucked from clear river beds
Lakeside beaches wet and shining they called 

Some black, volcanic from a lava flow
Hawaii took for granted; my cherished
Mount St. Helens gray pumice rock, rolled down
at birth, three months old came into my fold
 
Found along a path walking up the hill
Derelict, Athens Greece gave no respect
Ireland, Scotland, Isle of Man roosted
From Adriatic, Black, and Baltic seas

Mediterranean, Aegean, more
North Pole, South Pole, not--try Australia
One, large and green, I call to be Jadeite
Quartz, petrified wood, and fools gold abound 

One rock I've not, I want it so badly
It's on my bucket list--been there so long
Before I die it might come to my home
Big bucks I'll gladly spend, METEORITE

- - - - - -

Photo and Poem Copyright © 2014 Jimmiehov All Rights Reserved

I'm linked today with the Real Toads, Hannah's Transforming Friday

Some of my older rock and stone posts (link)

Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, July 01, 2020

Poem for Pavement Walking

"Under the pavement the dirt is dreaming of grass." — Wendell Berry


 
My walk is paved 

My walk is paved in many ways 
Some I talk about some I don't 
Of the latter here I'll tell not 
Look and listen my pavement shows

Reds pinks and yellows of romance 
Spent blossoms pave my favorite paths 
 Comes a thistle with bristling stalk
Be careful smell the good, nice red bloom

Rocks and stones scattered here and there
Even a petal in ones shoe
Causes much grief stop get it out
Kick or throw a stone up the path

Look for dull coins along the way
Half buried spend as good as mint
Six walks may buy a pint of grog
Help forget the potholes and bumps 

Then there's foot deep errant water
Clear, cleanses sandals loosens glue
Puts muddy water in your shoe 
Soggy mess makes the baby cry 
  

Comes a crack in the pavement  
Best of all will be a clover 
It grows in the crack, a blessing 
Pretty pink flowers every day 
Kids trying to find it's four leaves 
 
What all comes with our pavement 
Can we make best of rocks and stones 
Coins or potholes water shoe wash 
Or a crack with four leaf clover  

 
Just maybe 
Wish for one 
  _ _ _ 

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

Pictures were taken at one of the places Mrs Jim and I walk, the bottom was during a sidewalk stroll headed to downtown at Killarney, Ireland. (link to pink flowered)

Labels: , , , , ,

Sunday, December 06, 2009

One Single Impression: Lighthouse (an acrostic)

LIGHTHOUSE
...(an acrostic)

Light shines brightly
Incandescent
Guide for sailors
Heralds the shore
Times of gone by
Home for keeper
O lonely place
Untold beauty
Seen so seldom
Enjoyable



Poem Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved


Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
Lighthouse is at Point Bolivar, Texas,
adjoining Galveston on the east
after a brief ferry ride.


Find more poems at One Single Impression
"Light House" as prompt was
suggested by Geraldine at
My Poetic Path

Submitted for Acrostics Only December, 2009, prompt 7, Open: Poet's Choice
.

Labels: , , , , ,

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

A Tuesday Ditty, a Senyru


Boxes

I save boxes
Large ones, small ones, middle sized 
Do you need one?
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Anmol (a.k.a. HA) in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/03/the-tuesday-platform-let-path-go-on.html?m=1

Labels: , , , ,

Sunday, September 06, 2009

One Single Impression: Romance

.


The Evening Breeze

The evening breeze is blowing
with the moon brightly glowing.

Don't care where the fellows are
they're all so far—I'm with you.

We've got the juices flowing
pale moonlight, sets us glowing.

A little kiss seems so right
not out of sight thus you think.

We'll pucker up, close our eyes,
erase the moon from the skies.

Our touch and kiss then some more
right here before moon's bright light.

My want for you is growing,
the evening breeze still blowing.

Our moon, the breeze, you so fair;
ours in the air—is romance.

This moment seize just for us.
For us love may follow lust .

- - - - - - - - - - -


Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved


Find more poems at One Single Impression
"Romance" as prompt was
suggested by Geraldine of
My Poetic Path

Labels: , , ,

Friday, December 26, 2008

One Single Impression: A Winter's Day

A Winter's Day

an old friend came my way to chat
remembering that winter day
no ice she said the road was fine
up from the coast she made her way

after we ate the fireplace called
it rained through lunch we did not care
the fire so warm the rain still fell
the cold outside would freeze your ear

we moved the couch beside the fire
the two of us and Toto dogs
old memories you'd love to hear
we talked and sipped and stirred the logs

there was no way we couldn't guess
before dark came I heard the sleet
and from the eave above the glass
hung sticks of ice enough to eat

my friend had stayed too long she knew
with much regret she had to leave
don't go I plead it's bad out there
a nicer end we'll surely see

those good old times we'd just revived
a winter's day won't end in cold
our old time warmth was here anew
that night though cold was warmed from old



Copyright © 2008 Jimmiehov. All Rights Reserved
.

Tag: One Single Impression A Winter's Night
prompted today by Geraldine Helen Hartman (thank you) My Poetic Path
Tag: Jim's OSI
Painting is easy when you don’t know how, but very difficult when you do. Edgar Dégas
The same goes for my poetry attempts (don't know how, but I enjoy it!).

Labels: , ,