Long Jimmie Poems

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Premium Member Old Records

Listening
As grooves whirl
A familiar track,
Once familiar refrains
Recall the vintage
Of innocence.

Scratched
In almost forgotten places,
The sound is altered ...
Yet I hear a cadence of the time
When sweet flowers grew
In an English country garden.


Inspired by a folk song I listened to while growing up during the 1960s : English Country Garden as sung by Jimmie Rodgers (can be found on YouTube).
From the song:
How many kinds of sweet flowers grow
In an English country garden?
I'll tell you now of some that I know
And those I miss you'll surely pardon:

Daffodils, heart's ease and flox 
Meadowsweet and lady smocks 
Gentain, lupine and tall hollihocks 
Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, forget-me-nots 
In an English country garden


My Little Feet

All of a sudden (upon
     immediately arising refreshed,
     whar these lovely
     bones did not ache
getting shut eye lasting
     amply time for
     fatigue to brake,
     long enough for tear ducts

     to generate sandy granule
     size piece smaller
     than a Jimmie
     sprinkled atop piece of cake
an inexplicable fanciful
     notion gripped me
     to circumnavigate the globe
(then during or after

     write a poem or journaled)
     possibly like Sir Francis Drake
who lived (circa?1540 –
     28 January 1596)
alight to adventure found
     yours truly though
     no longer tired
     i.e. once adequately

     rested and awake,
(despite sleeping respite
     did reckon asthma
     second daily nap
     no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)"
ah ran to the community room,
     cuz sigh did hanker for coffee,
     sans one of the (perky,

     finely grounded, Earthy)
     residents, who faintly resembled
     a (Lake Woebegone)
     Minnesotan from Land o Lake
did brew, filter, and invoke love
     said coffee she did make,
tubby extra sure boundless energy
would keep me alert for:
     long day's journey into night

and while walking briskly
(this took about a bajillion
     orbitz round the sun,
cuz ah...unfairly small feet
     for this opaque
     grown man hoop ping to partake
of sipping a hot cup of Joe,
     (despite the outside temperature

     feeling like a bajillion degrees -
     courtesy of global warming)
mouth (analogous to
     the dog of Pavlov)
     started to salivate

for desperate caffeinated
     thirst to slake
after a couple swallows...
     ah (no idea why butta)
     Zarathustra channeled
     thru me didst spake.

Premium Member Play Ball

I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):

Say Hey Willie Mays                        Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit)          Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn                                   Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams                                   Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial                     Johnny Bench                                 
Ken Griffey Jr                                 Greg Maddox                                  
Henry Aaron                                   Lou Gehrig                                     
Roberto Clemente                           Ty Cobb                                         
Satchell Paige                                 Ernie Banks                                   
Rickey Henderson                           Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)                     
Trevor Hoffman                               Albert Pujols                                   
Gibson (Bob and Josh)                     Honus Wagner                                
Rogers Hornsby                              Cal Ripken                                      
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)

Some favorites I had to leave out…

Christy Mathewson                          Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax                                 Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle                                 Rod Carew
Joe Morgan                                     Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera                                Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez                                Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz                                      Jose Altuve                                     

I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!

written 24 Aug 2020
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Shape

Premium Member Classic Reel

in the 1940s many movie comedies dealt with heaven
hell, reincarnation, the devil, angels, body snatching
I get a channel called Classic Reel with my Roku
The movies shown are from the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s

I saw three of these shows this week
the one about hell was spooky in black and white
maybe more creepy than if it had been in color
they were plausible, warm, and witty

I got reintroduced to Betty Grable, Betty Hutton
Bob Hope, Bing Cosby, and Jimmie Stewart
They were intriguing shows, amusing
I was not bored, I was intrigued
Plots much more entertaining than today’s movies

Premium Member Sometimes

Sometimes a song can take me back
Make my memories come alive
To a time when love was a way of life
And families struggled to survive
Sometimes I get a little mellow
When I listen to an old love tune	
And dream of days long gone 
How they passed by too soon
Sneaking my first cigarette
I don’t think that I was ten
And listening to the AM radio
While the Kalin Twins sang “When”
We grew up with real music
That helped us bear our heavy load
When Gogi sang “The Wayward Wind”
And Mitchum told us about “Thunder Road”
Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the past
And a different way of life
I’ll listen to Lloyd sing about “Stagger Lee”
Or Bobby relate the tale of “Mack The Knife”
There were a lot of question and a lot of answers
Some were wrong and some were right
Like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose it’s Flavor
On the Bed Post Over Night”
Sometimes those songs bring a tear or two
But they always bring me joy
While Jimmy crooned “Just A Dream”
And the Shirelles loved their “Soldier Boy”
When Jim Ed Brown sang of “Scarlet Ribbons”
And Perry said, “Catch a Falling Star”
Dee Clark was calling “Hey Little Girl”
Johnny was thinking “Chances Are”
Sometimes I wish I could return 
To the days of my childhood
Just to hear Johnny Ray sing “Cry”
Or Chuck wail “Johnny B. Goode”
Jimmie sang about a “Honeycomb”
And “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”
The Orlons were meeting on “South Street”
The Chiffons said “He’s So Fine.”
Skeeter thought it was “the End of The World”
Because she lost her one and only
The Beach Boys said “Don’t Worry Baby”
Roy Sang for “Only The Lonely”

Sometimes.
Form: Narrative


Escapism

Foundation.

If you could escape this world, would you take that risk?


Escapism 

As if cursed by the son of perdition

As I go about my new life's mission to gain admission to her realm

With Aphrodite's dead ringer who whispers songs of exquisite rendition

Praying a lone arrow from Eros bow will strike, drawing gasps from the angels watching

High in the midnight sky 

As I breathe in her sweet aroma and passion filled scent, like pure oxygen 

And feel regal like a king
Like King Solomon 

As her aura captures my soul like a moth is attracted to a flame

So now all dark nights appear so long and so black

As the shadow people slowly advance
Whispering my name 

For they know I have been changed by someone so radical.
As I entered the Fifth Dimension one strange night 

Looking to finding a love so sacred and magical
But that's the magic of searching for the fantastical

For as sure as winds seduce trees by subtle caresses 

As the world wakes each year in a new spring and fresh life begins

I write this before I go to the Hidden Forest

Where the White Ash stands

Where green ivy hides the entrance to her lair, and other slaves play music, while chained to metal stands

With the smell of incense on patrol in the electricity filled air

Ready to invade lungs and take control

It's ten to two in the morning and I have to appear at four

So if I don't come back, I leave this for you to know I'm fine

Keep the house 
Car and money 

For I'm going to a new place where fear no longer exists 

A place I hope welcomes me in

Just pray for me that I don't 
lose my soul and become just another flesh slave 

Chained up playing music in her band

A prisoner trapped forever in her cave

As she sits or stands
On her golden throne singing with her crimson red lips

You're now mine
Now get in line

Your time will come play

For now, you're caught 
And can no longer run away

For you're now just another one of my familiars

One in a trillion 
No longer a civilian 

All this I know for a German called Schiller

Told me over the internet
Told me to come over

Told me I'd be a member of a wolf pack serving a queen in The Great In-Between 

So here I am

Pray for me 
Ma ***

Forever yours
Your son 
Jimmie 0

(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Form: Rhyme

Influences 2 American Dreams

It was old Woody that lured me with
Dust Bowl Ballads and so much more
Telling stories of a West
That I'd never heard before.
I was with the Okies as
 They travelled down the road 
Got a new hero from
The Ballad of Tom Joad.
Then on to Steinbeck
Faulkner, Williams, Hemingway, 
Until dreams of America
Filled my teenage day.
The whole world exploded with
The advent of Rock 'n' Roll
And once again Americana
Captured my heart and soul.
I learned of Jimmie Rodgers
Hank Williams, Ernest Tubb, 
All founder members in my
Exclusive Country Music Club.
Dylan, Van Zandt, Steve Earle, 
Guy Clarke, and that's how I found
The huge variation in that loose
Genre, the Country Music sound.
It's been a part of my life
A very constant friend
Too late to change now and so
They'll be with me until the end.
I listened to those story tellers until
They influenced the way I write my verse
So it's my American Dreams
For better or for worse.
Form: Rhyme

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