Six Word Saturday ~~ An Experiment?

My Six Words:

This Week's Favorite:  An Aggie experiment   

Students, graduates, and staff at the Texas A&M College have a reputation of not having everything just exactly right.  These students and graduates are called "Aggies".  Aggies are the butt of many unkind jokes hinting of a less than 'normal' intelligence concerning everyday situations.

There is an Aggie joke saying that some Aggie graduates were having trouble concerning the growing of chickens.  Since none of the chickens planted seemed to be growing, one brilliant graduate decided to call his college professor.

When told of the problem, the professor asked how they were planting these chickens.  "Feet first" was the graduate's response, whereby the prof quickly and wisely responded, "Why don't you try planting them 'heads down'?"

As I snapped this picture I was reminded of the Aggie joke above.  It may be an Aggie clandestine operation of growing children.  Clearly these kids are planted 'head first.'
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I'm linking with Cate (http://www.showmyface.com/) today for Six Week Saturday.  Not many are linking today as her Mr. Linky machine is not working.

Warm Drink ~~ a Friday Poem

Too much ice cried she 
You know it dilutes my drink 
Drink faster my dear 

Yikes! Going too fast 
Speed limit here's sixty-five 
Can't sense in the snow 

We're going to crash 
Just a nick on our bumper 
My ice has melted 

We're done with our fling 
You, on or off, fast or slow 
There's no warm between 

Then goodbye my friend 
Melted ice poisoned our souls 
We've had a nice ride 
_ _ _ 

Photo and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Today I'm linked with Fireblossom, a.k.a. Shay, at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, "Fireblossom Friday:  Shades of Gray."

First Grader soon to be Second ~~ a poem for Tuesday Platform

First Grader soon to be Second

Do you remember your first grade
What was your favorite subject
Today some 'ung words' brought to me
By First Grader soon be Second

I liked her list she'd made at school
She knew them all, I wished to talk
Talk about most all past tense verbs
Participles, needing some haves

One, the Brung, was past archaic
None of that was in her interest
Nor did she care, Rung a noun too 
As was the Lung, no verb at all 

Lets play she said, school it'd be
She's the teacher with her dry board
"The atomic weight of silver," 
She spoke as she wrote, is, "28..."

First Grader soon to be Second
She was impressed by its symbol,  
abbreviation, was "Ag"
Period chart?  Science.  Arts?

_ _ _

 

Photo and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 

Today I'm linked with Kerry O'Connor at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform.  Kerry says it's open for what ever we write.

 

A 'Play it Again poem' ~~ Street Poetry/Library Poetry

Hell Bent

Dead before dying

Slip of the knife, Devil's Peak

Down don't bother me

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Photo and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

Today I'm linked with Sherry at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Play it Again, Toads.

 - Sherry wants us to choose  past prompt to write for again,  I choose Susie Clevenger's heart rendering prompt, Street Poetry.  She told of a young lady sitting on the streets she met in San Juan Puerto Rico who was selling poems that she would write while you waited.

 - Her challenge was posted as Poems In April ~ Taking It To The Streets in which I am now linking this poem.

 - I substituted 'Library' for Street' in writing mine, as I captured the lines for the lines of my Senryū form called a Spine Poem from the shelves of the Willis, Texas, public library.  Or was it the Katy, Ft. Bend Country Library, I can't remember?

 - Then I left the little stack I photographed sitting on the library shelf when I left. I doubt anyone else enjoyed my poem and I have been waiting to post it here.  Sherry gave me the chance to post it for you to read.  I do this quite often when I visit libraries, most are probably better quality than this one.

Get listed ~~ Six Word Sadurday -- a Poem for Both

My six words:

"A work in progress -- or finished?"

Primed and ready.  Daddy didn't know
Ladder's down there, under the window
Waiting for the moon to show some light
To 'lope, their plan. 

Pent up was her love, soon to be aired
Been through the hoops, papers in order
TBF?
[click on the picture to see the ladder better]
 _ _ _ _

Photo and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved 

 - Today I'm linked with Grapling at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Get Listed: May Edition, featuring George Carlin

The word list for our prompt:  'bleeped', 'bleeped' gravel, rave, lisp, rasp, heel, wile, pent, rant, lope, hoop (also bleeped,  George Carlin video)

 - I'm also listed with Cate at Six Word Saturday

A Day in the Life of ... Tuesday Platform 'poem'

Waking up slowly, it dawns on me that I'm being awakened by some birds out my window, calling their serenades to one another.  They're waiting for something, perhaps for the fountain pump to come on, holding an overnight thirst in abeyance. 

The day is to be long, I settle by the window, a nice place to pop my meds and vitamins and laxatives.  There I'll stay until I'm called to breakfast. Nothing hot this morning, it's to be a hard boiled egg with toast. The second piece goes down better, with strawberry jam and coffee. Of course it'll be decaf again, that's all I've had since I've been.  

I was right, starting with breakfast alone.  Tablemates stayed in. The day came long. Crossword puzzles and a book I've read before with a snooze at nine. Lunch wasn't swift, sandwiches, bologna or peanut butter or cheese. I settled for cheese and mayo. Ditto morning for my afternoon. 

When evening comes I see little somethings fleeting by my small smudgy window.  Quickly I come to see if I really did see something going by. Will it be a rabbit sneaking through, surveying his pansy patch, was there new growth for supper?  Probably, but I missed him. 

Little small baby one hiding behind a bush, can I come out now?  He's somewhat like me, it won't hurt to be seen but we both think it will more safe just staying in. His supper may be scarce. Mine is good, spaghetti with chicken and broccoli, sort of like the TV dinners I used to microwave at home. Charlie and Clare came here with me tonight, other setting's been vacant for two weeks now. Poor Harold. 

Sit till dark, then to bed. Work today's Jumbo and check the headlines. Keep watch in the garden outside. Brown grass, that's all there's left of God's creation in this grown down patch, waiting dark birds and tiny brown rabbit families, brown dry grass and them. I hope the ice cream cart comes by to my door. 
_ _ _ 

Photos and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved 

Today I'm linked with Marian at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform.
 - these Tuesdays are always open forum, meaning we are invited to write something new without a particular prompt or style, or we can repost something we've had on our blogs before.
 - I chose to write this piece of prose, perhaps it could be a prose poem. It might be.
 - I wanted it to be somewhat forlorn, the setting may help with that. But not so gloomy that my character would want to give up, just for him or her to be resigned to the circumstance in which many of us could sooner or later find ourselves.
 - You might place yourself here, I hope I could be better occupied.

Fallen in a hole? ~~ a Poem for Sunday

Have You Ever

Has anyone ask you, "Have you ever ...?"
Most times embarrassing to say the least

Fallen in a hole, stuck, couldn't get out?
"Well, yes, there was that one time, Army time
We were out on bivouac, night compass test
Released on a prairie hill, no moonlight"

"Did I return to camp, finding my way?
Not exactly, the compass didn't show
Didn't show the lovely creek, hill's bottom
I knew it was there, follow it to camp"

"Problem was, I didn't plan, compass failed
Failed to show the steep crevasse in its bank
Down into the fissure I went, fell hard
No one near to hear my cries, cries for help"

"Thoughts aplenty came and went, coyotes howled
Hours later moon came out, I could see
The cleft was steep, no way could I climb out
Bullhorn called my name, I called 'Over here!'"

Buddies still ask, teasingly, of my fall
Of the chasm, abyss, the crack; how deep
"Once but no more, a typewriter's for me"

Typewriter photo copyright 2012 (Link),
Gateway computer photo copyright 2008 (Link), and
Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I am linked with the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads,
 to   Outlawyer (a.k.a. "K" or Karin) at Weekend Mini-Challenge - Trying "No More" ; and
 to   Kerry O'Connor  at Kerry Says ~ Let's Visit the Family

 - Outlawyer wants to us write a poem with a theme or subtheme of "No More" while
 - Kerry wants us to use a "word family, could be such as one finds in a Thesaurus, namely synonyms and antonyms (Those more or less fortunate cousins and prodigal siblings)."

I used a family of synonyms for the word 'Crevasse'.  My words within the poem are in Red Italacs. 

synonyms:

chasm, abyss, fissure, cleft, crack, split, breach, rift, hole, cavity "loose rocks fell into the crevasse" (reference Google. Search 'crevasse synonym')

Note:  Much of this tale is true or nearly true.  I never ever used a compass again in the Army and they did give me a typewriter as a "Clerk Typist" MOS.
 

Harrows and Hallows while driving, a poem for Sunday

http://cdn.pinthiscars.com/images/oldsmobile-cutlass-1981-wallpaper-2.jpg

Driving; Harrows and Hallows 

Going north I-45 in my Olds 
On my way to work sixty miles miles per hour 
Driving in the rain puddles here and there 

Hydroplaned real bad car changed head to toe 
That didn't last my car was in a spin 
Sixty miles an hour where would it end 

With cars around they slowed down gave me room 
"Weird idiot driver" I'm sure they thought 
Time had stalled showed to me future and past 

Quickly as it started car had straightened 
Sliding spinning had stopped now straight ahead 
Skillful driving? I was in other hands 

There's more to this tale I discovered soon 
In opposite direction headed south 
Same thing happened to my wife--other hands 
_ _ _ 

Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I'm linked with Brendan MacOdrum at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Sunday Mini-Challenge: Harrows and Hallows (link) 
Notes:
 - In 1985 we purchased a used 1981 Olds Cutlass Supreme, looking exactly like the picture above, with about 49,000 miles from its original owner.  We sold it for $1000 a few years later with 150,000 miles plus.  Its body had developed a baseball sized hole which we kept covered with duct tape.  Other than that it was still in good shape.
 - During our marriage of 43 years we have never purchased a NEW car.

Small Time Art ~~ a Ditty

Reaching my Potential;  
Small time Art with Stickman style 

Stickman Art, reached my potential
Some are born with silver pallet
Beautiful hues in jars beside

That is a life I never knew
Born into share cropper family
A different life awaited me

With knees astride speckled pony
Friends were make believe, we would play
Corn fields and pastures nature's green

Yearning for those days departed
We are born with what we're to have
Make the best from there, Stickman Art

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Photos and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - Today I'm linked with Hannah at  the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

 - Hannah's theme there is Transforming with Nature's Wonders

 - She showed 'nature art' eg. a mandala made with seashells.  I reversed this idea with the commercial arrangements, first at McDonalds with a Balloon Bouquet, then a Cupcake Grouping I found in the Kroger Store bakery section.

 - You can click on the pictures to enlarge, probably they won't get any prettier.

 - The Stickman I designed back when I was in the first or second grade.  It was first published here on my blogs as my profile picture back in 2006 or so.

 - Stickman appears on all my posts on "Ask Dr. Jim (blog)" (link).  I have not updated that blog since March 20, 2015 but I have not given up.  When my time is not so precious I intend to resume posting there..

A Notebook Story -- a poem for Tuesday Platform

There was this lady. She was a fine Little Old
(ER) Lady, a LOL, training for my brain
She was someone's mother, someone's mother-in-law

I never saw this lady without her notebook
she and I were calling it her little black book
You may have been written there, I was in it well

She'd look you in the eye, write your name in her book
Chances are she didn't know your name, so she'd ask
Seems she and you or I were talking yesterday

Then she'd write what we were saying and where we were
Her written word would be her memory later
today or tomorrow.  Alzheimer's is awful

(May be continued another day--check here)
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Photo and Poem Copyright © 2010 and 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I'm linked with Marian at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform
Marian wrote of Notebooks. This lady we met on our China tour carried hers everywhere..