JIM'S LITTLE PHOTO AND POEM PLACE

The World

The world, a fictional journey

I feel the world is burning but

But still I feel I might survive

Though my teeth are hiding inside

Inside gums not showing their place

Deep inside dentist can not pull

Reddened skin sore she cannot soothe

Those hidden sore teeth turning red

Tried eating bleeding on my food

Not to waste precious blood and food

Crying doesn't help makes things worse

I feel the world is burning, why

Why do I try when there's no way

. . .

I am linked with and written in response to Magaly Guerrero's prompting post

Ten Years

Ten years, seem short

Ten years hardly make a bean

Ours comes with time retired

Been retired now twenty-six

Spouse's hair little whiter

There's more and more on her blouse

and less and less on her scalp

Now I walk with a walker

That walker, our waiter hides

Hides from folk when we're eating

Keeps walkers-by from tripping

And all we're so happy now

"Senior living," cooks for us

Still have to make our own bed

. . .

Note: Asked by Sherry for a bit about our last ten years passing. Mrs Jim and I have moved, to a Senior Living facility since Mid-December. We are in our 80's and 90s, we've kept our car, in it's late 30's and I still drive. We like our apartment here.

. .

I am linked with and written in response of Sherry Blue Sky"s prompt

. . .

Message to All

Hi

What we're asked to say we'd tell:

Optional prompt this week: Please (a) write for us your personal message to the rest of humanity, the thing you most need to communicate, on the assumption that all humanity will get to read it and take note:

. . .

You'all

You'all behave, I'm tired

Tired of all of you, you'all

You all think nobody cares

cares what you say or do

Well that's all wrong by MOST EVERY ant

WE all want YOU ALL to behave

BEHAVE LIKE YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT YOU..

. . .

Photo courtesy O'Deposit Photos

I am linked with and written in response of Rosemary's prompt

Women's Day

I was glad

I was glad for the day

Day for women to say their piece

Glad for a woman to play with me

One who romped in the grass

We swam, played and romped together

We remembered the day for its worth

One of thirty we choose to honor women

Women around the world more happy

Happy on their special day of special month

. . .

I am linked with and written in response of Susan"s prompt

. . .

Two Feet Jimmy

What does this have to do with this week's theme of writing about dancing (a specific style or dancing in general)? OK, sure... it's ice skating, not dancing. But both are joy-filled examples of movement. And we could all do with a bit more joy, right? Just go with it.

My two feet,

A synopsis

I love these feet of mine

Have high hopes, love them always

When young and gay met a mate

Met her at the skating rink

A bit younger than I was

We lied about our ages

Eloped to another state

Marriage lasted thirteen years

Then she met another guy

Bozo couldn't even dance

But his smile was becoming

Married, lasted not a year

New lady for me arrived

three years later, she could skate

We celebrated last week

Fifty-three years of romance

. . .

I am linked with "Friday Writings" 211 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Unspoken

My first car was unspoken

A solid wheel vehicle

One that Dady bought for me

Trade in by my principal

A 1950 it was

Studebaker Starlight Coupe

Back then only bicycles

Their wheels had spokes and more spokes

Well, tricycles still had spokes

But the cars then were safer

Doing away with the spokes

Unspoken they had become

Now again spokes have returned

But they are so much stronger

Engineered from solid steel

My Mustang is much safer

Much safer than solid steel

Goodbye to unspoken wheels.

. . .

I am linked with and Written in response of Mary's"s prompt, at

Mary's prompt "The Unspoken" at What's Going On?

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

Awake from the Moon

This evening Sherry Blue Sky has enticed us to find blessings from the things in the sky.

Suprise, surprise;

Blessing Opposite

I look at the moon,

I'm trying to sleep

Sleep hard to come

Ever let's me sleep?

Tonight's one of those

Try to sleep I do

She thinks I'm in love

Moon brilliant lady she

She has love juice ooze

Tries to juice me up

Blessings from all that?

Would I love her more

If there's any mine

Love her not really

Still that I don't feel

I do feel the juices

And I'm not surprised

She has it written

Written smeared for me

But that doesn't take

All that I'm thinking

She keeps me awake

. . .

-Written in response of Sherry"s prompt, at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

Night of Snow

Donuts Begging

When you're asleep I will play

Have double fun when it snows

Making circles that erase

My Mustang Ford likes to play

The circles are black most times

Black with melted tire rubber

Circles at your intersect

Round and round our creation

Now when the new snow is fresh

It's first come first dig your treads

And with this snow all will like

Enjoy another circle

A grin resting on your chin

. . .

-Written in response of Susan"s prompt, at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I am also linked with dVerse #401 at https://dversepoets.com/

Having Shelter Protection

. . .

A one room apartment

has become our shelter

Though I could have had two

Rich people don't live here

Plastic key locks our door

Carry it on our wrists

Whippet hound protects us

But he is mere décor

As are two small creatures

Sitting above the hound

So our protections not

Not even in our head .

It's called Senior Living

We are old

. . .

-Written in response of Mary's prompt, at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

I am also coming with Rommy at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 but opting to not use her optional prompt. Note, if my write seems nonsensical it might be.

Groundhog Day February 2nd

I awoke

Again I could sleep

No more in the middle of the night

So I sit on the edge of my bed

It happens at midnight

"Rodents" called Groundhogs are edgy

When daylight comes they'll pop out

Out of their nesting hole that they'd dug

When it's time for the sun

They'll look for their shadow

One privileged

GROUNDHOG DETERMINES

If it sees it's shadow it will scare

AND run back in and hide

Hide for six more weeks

Means no more spring weather

For six more weeks

. . .

Worrying about that, I can't sleep

. . .

-

I'm awake

I'm Awake Now

I am awake now,

no more in my dreams

A cold day awaits

Sitting on the edge of my bed

Still dark

only the moon gives light

three minute discourse

You go first

no you go, no you go

I went in the middle of the night

okay I'll go, don't you puddle the floor

Oh Moon, o moon

Please send me another dream

Sitting the edge of my bed

A cold day awaits

. . .

-Written in response of Sherry's prompt, at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

I am also coming with Rosemary at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1 but opting to not use her optional prompt. Note, if my write seems nonsensical it might be.

Church Time of Day

was told this week, "we will invite you to write about the time of day you like best, and why."

. . .

Sunday Morning

Something about Sunday Morning

No other do I remember

They started out with staying home

Mother wouldn't take us to church

Seems she feared talking other moms

"She brings the kids with dad at home"

Then one day came, all was different

"Kids get dressed up. We're goin to church

Dad had been mean to mom, she'd cry

Mothers shouldn't be made to cry

But that different Sunday and on

Dad was nice, we all went to church

I said this a bit nice of Dad

He still boxed my ears, no reason

Thinking grandpa must have boxed his

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings #211" with Rosemary with a poem optional of her suggestion at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

Note: a Favorite song of mine is "Sunday Morning Coming Down", a CW with line "Put on my cleanest dirty shirt."

See below:

Didn't give up / Zombie Tree

Zombie tree found roadside out from Conroe, Texas. Natural decoration.

. . .

The Zombie tree that wouldn't give up

I passed it nary blink of my eye

Part of the scenery nature's pet

A nuisance pulling on the fence line

Rabbits safe raising their little ones

It's been fixed years and years standing tall

Farmers spreading poison in the ground

And spraying nasty stuff on its arms

I moved away no more Zombie thoughts

Years later the graying bows still stood

Seemed to smirk, saying haw haw to me

. . .

I am linked with Mary at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I am also linked with "Friday Writings #209" with Rosemary with a poem optional of her suggestion at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

Mary asked, "This week, please write about letting go— It might be either a single dramatic act or it might be a series of small releases, a break finally made."

. . .

Evening on the Beach

Note: This is my 3000th write on this blog, 2071 I posted, the rest remain as "drafts:

Beach in Hawaii

The last thing I'll remember

Our ride to the beaches edge

Sand flying from beaches edge

Our blanket thrown on the sand

Things quickly escalated

Sands now became forgotten

Those sands quickly forgotten

Blanket too not remembered

Song, touching me, touching you

"Sweet Caroline"* remembered

Proved they were right all the time

* Neil Diamond song,

. . .

Neil Diamond - Sweet Caroline

Lyrics

. . .

-Written in response of Sherry's prompt, "What was remembered" at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I am also linked with "Friday Writings #208" with Rosemary with a poem optional of her suggestion at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

Twilight comes

Twilight is nearing

Snowmen, they would be

Safe another day

But the deer next door

They suffered great loss

Twilight was the shield

Naughty boys' snowballs

They used it's darkness

Threw the frozen first

Every light carried

Broken to pieces

Sadness sadness came

At winter's dim light

Mourning over there

Though snowmen soothed

Twilight not enough

Brought sadness to call

. . .

I am writing trying to satisfy Susan's "Settle yourself into a twilight--either before sunup or before sundown, turn on a light or light a candle, and write a new poem influenced by a winter or summer twilight. What's going on?"

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Adi and I and Them

Our Pet Therapy Pair

Adi and I were a nice pair

We were a Pet Therapy Pair

Alzheiimer's victims made happy

They made Adi happy as well

Telling her of their dogs behind

Where and what they were doing now

We'd hear their stories times again

I miss Adi now, died two twelve.

. . .

- I am linked at "https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1" with Mary at "What's Going On" for her prompt, ". . . today’s topic asks you (to reflect) on "Alone"

- I am also linked with "Friday Writings #207" with Rosemary at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

Resist

Resist, my elbow

Saying means not

My dear it doesn't

Says, "DOES NOT" boldly

Well, I told the coon,

"You've been bad, don't add,

Don't lick up your mess,

Spilled booze all over

But coons can't take it

Alcohol's not good

It goes to your brain

Did, now drunken coon

. . .

.

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 206 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

- Also linked with dVerse for "Open night", https://dversepoets.com/2025/12/04/open-link-night-397-december-live/

. . .

Food Ritual

Optional prompt for the "Friday Writings Week # 205" is " . . . we’ll invite you to write about “food as ritual.” "

Here goes

[click on picture for bigger size view]

New Years Day

New Years Day in the South means black eyed peas and cabbage. The peas are for wealth, the cabbage for health, during the next year and the future. And of course good Southern food is cushioned by made-from-scratch cornbread. The ham will be from Thanksgiving day leftovers.

We don't believe in influencing luck by what we eat, but it is a Southern tradition we have followed for the 52 years we have been married. She is a Louisiana lady still.

Southern people eat black-eyed peas, most Northerners don't. When General Sherman went through the South burning everything, including the food supply, he didn't mess with the black-eyed peas. He thought they were food for the cattle, and his troops had already killed or eaten the cattle.

So, the people who survived boiled those beans and ate them. It was like they were rich, they had a lot of food. Only thing, it was all in the granary formerly food for the cattle.

I have no idea why they eat the cabbage, I'm sure it too was at some time they were lucky in health and had been eating cabbage.

For supper that night we would share this frozen Runza. It may be the of last Runza's we brought back from Nebraska in early last December.

So Runza for Nebraskans and black eyed peas are because I married a Southern lady of course I like them too.

Note: Please remember that my "jim's little Christmas Tree Farm" blog is open now. It is featuring Christmas trees that I run across this season. Find them here,

https://jimmiehov7.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

- I am linked with Magaly's "Friday Writings" 205 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Cranked Up

Cranked up the Jalopy

I cranked up the old jalopy

She was aching for an outing

Plenty of times was left behind

Was Mexico or Canada

Why fly every time could have drove

Europe or Asia understood

The boys at the car grooming place

All liked this baby, jalopy

Smoothly they managed every gear

Polished her standing dusty rear

. . .

BTW, last night I posted my first Christmas Tree Farm tree for 2025. I will being posting the trees as I come across them. NYC's will be next, maybe on Thanksgiving Day.

https://jimmiehov7.blogspot.com/2025/11/o1-first-tree-for-2025-season.html?m=1

. . .

- I am linked at "https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1" with Sumana Roy with "What's Going On" for her prompt, ". . . today’s topic asks you (to reflect) on what brings you joy and purpose. My car likes to make me happy.

I am also - I am linked with "Friday Writings" 204 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Note: At the grooming place every groomer told me what a nice car she was. I felt good; my baby, jalopy was born in 1998, 27 years ago. I treat her nice and easy, no more green light drag race for her. She was my retirement present from myself.

. . .

Curious Betsy

"week's optional prompt, be prepared to write about three things you hate and tear them down, and/or three things you love and celebrate them." Since my write was fairly long and my time was short I just wrote of one -- LOVED THAT COW!!

. . .

Curious Betsy

I called her Betsy

A pretty cow came over

Over to check me out

First time, we met that day

Met on a back road

A shortcut but slow

She was with her friends

But I was new to her

The others stayed in the field

Grazing luscious grass they'd found

I asked Betsy to follow me

She smiled and turned my way

I drove slowly for her to follow

She followed good

How long will this last

Strange stuff ahead frightened her

She turned her back

Headed for her herd

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 203 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Halloween Party

For "Friday Writings" we have been invited to write poetry or prose set on Halloween.

. . .

Party Time

Went to a Halloween party

Dressed our best for the occasion

Masks of lamp shades, white dangling cords

Plugs wrapped so no one plugged us in

Parked in back, sneaked in the front door

Hoping no one recognized us

We gazed around we were amazed

Orange Pumpkins danglin on ropes

Along the ceiling wall to wall

From corner to corner they were

Everyone dressed in camouflage

Bright colors matching the flowers

Flowers all colors taped to walls

And some were ghosts, wolves, and tigers

Cinderellas and Beyonces

We had six dances then judgements

Hopeful, lined in a ring around

All had worked so hard, prizes good

Cute Cinderella first, Wolfe next

Came the Lamp Shades we came in last

. . .

- I am linked with "Friday Writings" 201 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

My Trips

. . .

Vertical Traveler; Satellite Machine

" I traversed the world

From top to bottom

Then bottom to top

Beautiful scenery

Different every trip

Over and over

Circles round the world

The world circled too

Bulge in my belly

Camera through the hole

They send the photos

Back to headquarters

Big time spy am I "

. . .

- I'm writing for the poetry blog named "What's Going on". Here is the prompt: "For this prompt, write about things or ideas that remain the same despite life's events. We live in a world where even positive values seem to be temporary and time specific. But what is unchanging, what can we count on, or what do we hope is timeless or everlasting?"

Linked to

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

"Time of Covid"

"Ten situations for "Friday Writings"

associated with the COVID

1. Bad

2. Long COVID

3. A killer

4. Quarantine

5. Masks

6. Smell sense loss

7. Taste sense loss

8. Congestion

9. Medication

10. Contagious

(My poem is next below)

Time of COVID

Mrs J wasn't feeling well

That fateful day we're on our cruise

Seeking medicine she called in

The infirmary's man came

Thermometer and a test pouch

Temperature fine, blood pressure too

But the test pouch said COVID big

Grabbed her things she was whisked away

Next thing she knew room of her own

Quarentine and flu medicine

I, her husband, tested each day

Day five was told go to your room

Pack your things join your wife, COVID

Ten days it was then, lesser now

Cruise over landed South Hampton

Hotel room we'd finish our time

What now is on my mind? Let's see

Lost my taste, smell, some memory

Congestion still, won't go away

My wifey did better better than I

There is another man we talked

Talked with him before quarentined

He was sitting close to the stairs

We were close, did he get COVID??

. . .

- I am linked with Mary at "What's Going on " here: https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

- I am also linked with Friday Writings #200

where the "optional prompt will invite you to write something about, or including, the number 10. And/or write a 10-line poem or story". Rosemary Nissen-Wade is hosting at

https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2025/10/time-of-covid.html?m=1

And I linked with Lillian at dVerse,

. . . https://dversepoets.com/2025/10/23/open-link-night-and-dverse-live-from-boston/

...

Van Gogh's Grove

Van Gogh's Busy Grove

Asleep in Van Gogh's calm retreat

I was awakened by a course

and whisky pitted noise from tongue

'Twas making song recognized not

Children dancing to the burly

I wouldn't call it a dance song

A bed of fallen grapes beneath

Beneath it all their blanket spread

The grapes and rotted fallen leaves

Old newspapers soaked with brown mud

Tripping the children right and left

They blend with the leaves, mud, and goo

Up on the hill it was Van Gogh

Source of the music's horrid songs

Smiling as he played, children laughed

Dancing up the hill, song unknown

Gogh joined their fun, kid's song picked up

They didn't know he was famous

Then not the muddy kids painted

Easy, their mothers did complain

. . .

-

- We had an optional prompt but I am in the hospital as a patient so time did not allow me to write a new poem for here. I hope you like this rather new one instead.

- I am linked with Sumana Roy at "What's Going on" at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 who wanted us to showuse an artwork of your choice for your inspiration.

- I am also am linked with Rommy at "Friday Writings" 199 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

- The bottom Grove photo is the actual Grove as it looked for our visit in 2006.

. . .

October Month

.

October month I claim

Dibs on big the letter "O"

Precious month I was born

Little Sister as well

Years many years ago

They're more than some can count

Happy Halloween kids

Ninety-two Eighty-seven

We're glad to be alive

. . .

- I am linked with Magaly at https://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2025/10/october-month.html?m=1 "Friday Writings" 198 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

My Little Sister

Our prompt for this week: " . . . we'll be asking you to write about your siblings … or the lack of them. Or about sisterhood or brotherhood in general."

My Little Sister

This is picture of my only sister, Lois. No brothers. Lois and her husband live in Iowa, we were visiting from Texas. We both grew up at our parent's farm home in Nebraska.

Lois is five years younger than me; we both are very old. Our health is about as good as very old folk can have, i.e. so-so.

I was the teasing brother, but we got along very well. She never teased me and mine of her were not mean, just a little bit ornery.

She has always so very nice to me. I remember when we didn't have indoor plumbing she would hold the flashlight for me getting to the outhouse which was out behind the chicken house.

My biggest trick and really fun for me was when Lois turned 65, I had hacked into her Yahoo e-mail account and sent (from her) everyone on her mailing list a notice and sob story that she wouldn't get very many cards for this momentous birth anniversary.

I don't have her password or the addresses anymore so this will have to do.

And her quit smoking tale has me involved. We were playing down by at our deep tree lined creek. I pulled out a cigarette, lighted it, took a puff and blew some smoke screens.

That sight of me enjoying it induced her to ask for one. I lighted it and handed it to her. She must have inhaled because she coughed, choked, and puked.

Her story now is that she has quit smoking the same day that she started. Then tells her experience.

. . .

- 263 words -- I am linked with Rosemary at "Friday Writings" 197 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Weary Days

Weary days, they induce

Induce restful night sleep

Sleep like a baby does

Head under the covers

Only nose and mouth out

Weary days, they are hard

Legs and feet pay a price

But appetites may grow

Dinner table looks great

Sit and rest those tired feet

Weary days not stopping

Stop when the whistle blows

Warm water wash those feet

Soak them a little while

Lift them high easy chair

Weary days get better

Rest has come to you, but

Gotta get back up now

Cook supper, tired hands

Though hungry mouths to feed

End of day pillow waits

Play with kids, watch TV

. . .

- I am linked with Susan at "What's Going on " here: https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Autumn, First School Week

Prompt of the week: "we’ll invite you to write poetry or prose inspired by Autumn (rituals, foods, colors, celebrations… or anything that makes autumn memorable and/or special)."

. . .

First Week of School

Autumn, first week of school

First of my school learning

First week with girls up close

All dressed up pretty like

I liked her, she liked me

Her daddy liked me too

My parents held me back

Back so that she'd have me

Me to make two students

Two students in her class

Come third grade she's not there

Daddy had pulled her out

A private school for her

. . .

- I am linked with Rommy at "Friday Writings" 196 at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/?m=1

. . .

Note: This was my school, I am the boy in back, a 4th grader. My sister was the little girl in front near our teacher, she was a 1st grader, we did not have kindergarten. Four of us were cousins.

We lived a mile from the school and generally walked to and from school. The teacher borded with a farm couple living within walking distance, we had school regardless of the weather. On bad weather my father would have me unter a tarp in a trailer pulled by two horses.

. . .

Sunny Open Road

Open roads in the sunshine

Top-down carrier's ready

Ready for its sunlit ride

Tall green trees along the way

They wave at the passing cars

Happy to see passengers

Waving back and smiling wide

Thinking of sunburns tonight

. . .

- I am linked with "What's Going on " at https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/?m=1 -- This poem was to be written in the vein of Imagist Poetry. Short, eight lines encouraged and to be pointed.

- I tried. "to write a minimalist, small space poem focusing on a vivid, concrete and specific image that might convey a complex idea or emotion in a single moment. We need a direct language to describe this. It would be perfect if the poem stays within eight lines. "

Note: The car belongs to me, a registered Texas Antique Auto. It is a1998 Ford Mustang GT 4.6 Convertible that I bought as a retirement present for me from myself. I retired in 2001.

. . .

Petals on the Floor

Petals on the floor

Everywhere you looked

One was picked up not

a petal at all

'Twas papers were dropped

At the courthouse were

Papers place of rest

Like petals fallen

Fallen from their tree

Never used again

Petals making mulch

Papers mice nests

. . .

- I am linked with dVerse to write a 44 word poem, plus the title if there is one

JIM'S LITTLE PHOTO AND POEM PLACE

Friday, March 13, 2026

The World

Wednesday, March 11, 2026

Ten Years

Saturday, March 07, 2026

Message to All

Wednesday, March 04, 2026

Women's Day

Friday, February 27, 2026

Two Feet Jimmy

Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Unspoken

Mary's prompt "The Unspoken" at What's Going On?

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Awake from the Moon

Wednesday, February 11, 2026

Night of Snow

Wednesday, February 04, 2026

Having Shelter Protection

Sunday, February 01, 2026

Groundhog Day February 2nd

Thursday, January 29, 2026

I'm awake

Sunday, January 25, 2026

Church Time of Day

Wednesday, January 07, 2026

Didn't give up / Zombie Tree

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

Evening on the Beach

Friday, December 26, 2025

Twilight comes

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Adi and I and Them

Thursday, December 04, 2025

Resist

Thursday, November 27, 2025

Food Ritual

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

Cranked Up

Thursday, November 13, 2025

Curious Betsy

Friday, October 31, 2025

Halloween Party

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

My Trips

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

"Time of Covid"

Wednesday, October 15, 2025

Van Gogh's Grove

October Month

Wednesday, October 01, 2025

My Little Sister

Weary Days

Thursday, September 25, 2025

Autumn, First School Week

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Sunny Open Road

Tuesday, September 23, 2025

About Me

My life, creed, and ambition

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