Sunday, February 14, 2010


With This Ring

I love you, he whispered softly.
Oh you silly thing you, said she.

Of course I do, I wear your ring
and sing your song, a song of life.
Of life and love, babies, children,
my children you're the mother of.

Yes, I remember well that day,
committing you my love to stay.
My token, flowered band of gold.
You gave me your all, heart and soul.

[large picture] [extra large]

Poem and photo
Copyright © 2010 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved


Find more poems at One Single Impression
"Gold" as prompt was suggested
by BlueMist at
Ambrosian Ecstasy

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Very nice. Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. and Mrs. Jim.
Happy Valentine's Day!

Rosemary and Reflections
Very nice poem! Happy Valentine's Day.

Linda @ Truthful Tidbits
Happy Valentine's Day, you, too! Don't make me send a chaperone over there! Oh wait, you're married. Never mind.
Beautiful poem, Jim... Your wife is one lucky lady.... Happy Valentines Day...
You and Mrs. Jim are lucky to have each other. I know that without a doubt.

Have a terrific Valentine's day. Big hug. :)
Nice of A. to have kept you around all this time. Nice poem and pic.
We don't have any of those stores you speak of below. The food looked great.
i got all soppy in my valentine message, harldy any humor like yours, but rhymes wit said it was worth reading, enjoyed your message
Nice poem and very pretty ring.
Jim, there's something about that special one and the ring as a symbol of that relationship. You bring strong images and thoughts of my bride today.
I appreciate your comments on "Sunrise Dream". Hopefully not really the notice before the blue screen. :)
Regarding your comments on my piece "Sunrise Dream". I am trying to relate how materialistic we can be. How sometimes we want something and, in the end, after we have it the desire or novelty is gone. The golden sun rays (the golden dust or mistress) is something desirable, try as I may I cannot catch it, so I cry until my hands are wet. This helps me catch the dust. After I have collected the golden dust and leave with my prize, I am not certain I care anyway. Maybe this makes sense in the context of the poem. My best, Rob.

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