There’s a place where my mind wanders
asking philosophical question about life
and death, faith and religious thought
challenging the accepted with “show me”
questions // demanding answers where
there seems to be none…
that make sense…
Asking, “What is my place in all this?”
**
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to use the word place for our Monday Quadrille.
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I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. I love the sentiments in it and decided to repost it again in memory of my mom who passed away in 2007 at the age of 93.
A Love Story
She watched him tall and lean
With bib overalls and a head of dark hair
Thinking how handsome he was
How strong and capable a man he had become
He was only sixteen //but gave the appearance of eighteen
His gait was long // intense // full of determination
She loved that about him // the boy/man from across the field
Smart and fun to be around // his smile was full of laughter.
There he was, driving his father’s four milk cows up her lane
To share pasture with twenty-five more
Self-conscious // she picked her father’s tee shirt
Hanging it on the porch line strung between two posts
Glancing towards the lane she caught his attention
He waved and gave a hearty, “Hi Beatrice! How are you today!”
Tongue tied, she could only reply, “I’m fine!”
And then he was gone // on up the lane and over the hill
It was evident he was special // graduating from high school at sixteen
She // only fourteen // knew she was in love
She would wait for him and follow him to the ends of the earth…
And she did
***
In memory of my mother who lived across the field from my father when they were growing up in the early part of the last century.
Creative minds have
always been // since time began
Ironing board or chair?
Or..
Stepstool?
Click photo to enlarge photos…
Photos: from Habitat Restore donations
Posting for open link night at d’Verse Poets Pub
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What does one look for when going back home
After fifty years of wandering //wondering
My two brothers and I make the pilgrimage
No one wants to travel back home alone
**
From different directions we come together
Full of anticipation and wonder
Together we walkabout on footsteps
Long gone with wind and rain, yet always there
***
Much has changed, but a lot is still the same
We wander our back roads reliving memories
Finding past friends and neighbors resting in peace
Behind our church // down cemetery lane
**
As we relive our past we now realize
All who wander back in time are not lost
***
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Lisa asked us to write a poem about a pilgrimage. She also included the idea of wandering and walkabout. I chose to write a sonnet about the pilgrimage my two brothers and I took back to our hometown in 2019. We spent four days wandering around the old places of our childhood. It was a wonderful time together. There were so many great memories.
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Peony bloom
Bathes in morning rain
Gorgeous
**
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Yesterday, with showers coming in I thought it would be a good time to dump my rain barrels and get the sludge out of the bottom. When I moved the barrel off the brick pad, I noticed a little garter snake stretched across one of the bricks from one hole and down into the other. It was cool and wet, and he was trying to stay warm. I nudged it thinking it would crawl out and slither away, but to my surprise it coiled tighter and drew itself all the way down into only one of the one-inch holes. I left him there and set the barrel back up.
Cool Spring rain falling
Little garter snake hunkers down
trying to stay warm
**
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
We often think of reality as what is going on around us
Many external things come into play affecting our life
But those physical interactions are not what is really going on
“In reality,” it is really what is going on within our soul
**
We struggle with the reality of who we are and what that means
Confronting our demons that emerge to haunt us is a constant struggle
Am I too tall, too short, too fat, too thin… what will others think of me
What we believe about ourselves is the reality we live in each day
**
What goes even deeper than that are the struggles of choice
Our addictions to food, alcohol, sex, applause, religion, and ideology
Soul conflicts are the real realty, not the work or politics, or even family
Our struggle is with who I am, what is my place, am I loved, am I loving
**
The struggle that Jesus talked about when addressing “Who is my Neighbor?”
Bring out the soul’s struggle with one’s self… “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Not glib words // but basic reality… If not at peace with yourself…
You won’t be at peace with your neighbor either…
**
You are your own worst enemy!
**
These thoughts originated after reading Brandan’s post, Crafting the Deep Personal, on d’Verse. He shared a You Tube clip discussing Carl Jung’s, Redbook. In it he talks about what makes up reality. I found it most interesting and decided to share some thoughts that came to mind as I read and listened. I don’t usually end my poems on a negative note, but it often seems to be that way when we look inward.
Crafting The Deep Personal | Oran’s Well (wordpress.com)
Posting this on the Tuesday d’Verse prompt.
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Painting: Dwight L. Roth
One year ago, another year slipped by
As the scales showed me creeping // I was about to cry
Another set of zeros was trying to slide by
**
I remained in denial // it was never the time
It wasn’t that bad a few pounds were fine
Until the scales reached another 99
**
Getting bulky, my clothes were tight
Getting up when down was a difficult fight
Looking in the mirror was a scary sight
**
Realization hit me like a ton of bricks
I refused to continue on this humpty-dumpty flip
It would take work, but I had to get a grip
**
Giving up bread and pizza about made me cry
But the starches and butter would have brought my demise
So, I cut back on volume and tried to eat light
**
Amazingly, pounds slowly began to drop
In time my belt tightened // up to the third notch
First ten, then twenty, and my clothes became baggy
**
Today, when I watched the scale dial spin round
It showed that I lost a good twenty-five pounds
Now I feel better, I can get up off the ground
**
I am proud of my accomplishment, without any gain
It went on a little by little // is coming off the same
Saturday is my birthday // And now I ‘m not ashamed
**
Today at d’Verse, Punam asked us to write a Selfie Poem, about some aspect of ourselves. I was going to wait till Saturday to write this by since this came up I decided to go ahead and share my weight loss journey.
Last year a couple of things came together to bring this about. As you read in the poem, my weight was getting out of control. Cindy G. asked me to review her new book, in which she wrote that change only comes when we own it. Michelle had a contest prompt asking us to share how we keep active by moving, which I did and was chosen as one of the winners.
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Trip to London
Turned into a nightmare
When Vera started to feel sick
On the flight
She made it to her sister’s flat
Then to the hospital
On a ventilator for weeks
Yet still she rose like a Phoenix
In a Blaze of Glory
Painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Mish asked us to write a 44 word Quadrille using the word blaze. Nothing says blaze like a phoenix rising from the ashes. This poem is about our neighbor, Vera, who traveled to London to visit her sister, only to become sick on the way. The flight affected her sickle-cell condition. She ended up in the hospital deathly sick for almost a month and had to be put on a ventilator. She was in an induced coma for two weeks. She had to have her spleen removed.
Lots of prayers from friends and family were given on her behalf. Gradually she recovered and returned home again. Her daughter flew to London to be with her through it all, while still working online. A week ago she walked down the block from her house to visit us. She had this phoenix painting of mine and asked me to come and move it to her living room wall to remind her of all she has been through.
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One of my favorite things to do is play music with my friends. My longtime friend and his wife spent the day with us yesterday. I shared my homemade instruments with him. We sat down and used them to make music together. It was wonderful to get together again. We learned to play the guitar when we were living on the same floor of the college dorm. That was fifty-seven years ago!
Below are some pictures from a neck rebuild on the first DeWalt guitar I made back in 2020. The first neck was not done well, and I had trouble getting the intonation right on it. This time I used a half post from the Habitat Restore so that the fret board would lay perfectly flat. I carved out the shape on my table saw and sanded it smooth. I use a couple of strips of walnut that I glued together to make my fretboard. A stick-on Piezo pick-up on the inside picks up the sound very well. The other instrument in the picture above was made a couple of years ago as a baritone ukulele.
If you would like to hear how they sound, go to my Instagram page that is posted under my name.
Good friends
and good music
stay with you forever
Photos: Dwight & Ruth Roth
https://www.instagram.com/rothdwight/ click here to listen…
Roth Poetry 