Perspective

The Declaration of Independence includes the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. In a world where many look out for #1, I would propose that the happiness we so often pursue comes not from what we get, but from what we give. I have found that some of the greatest joys in my life have come from helping others. In extending God’s grace to others we receive it back many times over in the rewards we experience. The loneliest people in the world only look out only for themselves.

Perspective

Life is not just about you

It is about sharing and understanding

Others have helped you arrive

At your place of success or joy

Happiness lives just beyond us

In the joy and success of others

Our families our children our friends

Those we help those we serve

Beyond the welded view of digital media

A community of support interacting

Encouraging building one another up

An open hand a willing heart

Sharing grace and love to the helpless

Recognizing our neighbor in need

Loving our children and families

Holding others dear and indispensable

It is about all of us working together

To make our world a better place

Life is not just about you

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

A Trinity of Sorts

A Trinity of Sorts

An all-encompassing Circle of Light

Surrounds the blackness in which we exist

Drawing us to that parabolic Focus

Concentrating all that light into one

Of magnetic attraction radiating Love

That permeates the souls of cosmic dust

With life-giving breath transcending dirt

Enlightening each one with Spiritual Flow

Seeking and finding our place in the universe

Our connection to that ultimate Circle of Light

Reflected to each of us through the center

Allowing a flow of Spiritual Light

Back and forth in never ending connection

Between Creator and dust

A Trinity of sorts

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Painting:  Dwight L. Roth

 

The Neighbors Moved Out

The Neighbors Moved Out

Over the summer our neighbors moved out

Leaving an empty hole in the neighborhood

We watched in awe as they built this house

Admired their beauty and finesse

Watched as they raised their young ones there

Thinking they were neighbors beyond compare

But during the summer when they weren’t around

Some squatters moved in and settled down.

Only later did I notice something had changed

The perfectly round hole was not the same

They tore out the side of the entrance wall

Leaving a gaping hole through which to crawl

Those pesky squirrels with their sharp teeth

Gnawed a giant hole both wide and deep

They move right in without consent

Left the Red Bellied pair out on the fence

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

Goldfinch in Winter

The Gold finch loses his beautiful summer feathers and gets a dull gray brown yellow coat of feathers for the winter. This allows him to blend into the leafless foliage of winter. A bright yellow bird would stand out like a male Cardinal. Even so, he still is quite a handsome bird. Here is my poetry in photos of the Goldfinch:

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

Reigniting the Fire

Reigniting the Fire

In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.

It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.  

We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” ― Albert Schweitzer

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It is amazing the way encouragement and affirmation moves one beyond himself to do things he has only dreamed about. This is the situation that occurred in 2013. It was at that time that an open mike poetry reading evening was started at the Indian Trail Cultural Arts Center in Indian Trail, NC. We began attending and reading our poems together as the group grew into twenty-five to thirty-five people.

I had only written a few poems before that time, but with the encouragement I received there I began writing a new poem each month. It was a wonderful group of people who loved poetry. Everyone from ten year olds to seventy year olds attended.

The poem above describes what I experienced in this affirming group.I would like to thank Kym Gordon Moore and Susan Didier along with the poetry reading group that met at Indian Trail Cultural Arts Center for their encouragement and support in reigniting my inner fire. Kym Gordon Moore is a local North Carolina Poet. Susan is the director for the Cultural Arts Center.

Because of my connections with them I have gone beyond my wildest dreams in what I have been able to do since then. I will be forever grateful for their word of  encouragement and believing in me.

Check out Kym’s site on Word Press:

https://frombehindthepen.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/teaandpoetrybookclub/?hc_ref=NEWSFEED&fref=nf

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Oil of Soul and Spirit

Music speaks to everyone. Adults and children alike find it inspiring and motivating. Some find it to be a worshipful experience. I hear songs from the past and can tell you where and when I listened to that music. Even babies love music and bounce along to the beat. This is my son and his friend getting into the music of the old 33 1/3 rpm records of the 70s!

Oil of Soul and Spirit

Music is the lubricant of my soul

The elixir of spirit

Lifting me up when I am low

Filling me with joy

Demanding my response

Tapping feet can’t be still

Expressions of feeling

Buried deep in my soul

Smooth as silk lubricating every nerve

Stored on that other side of my brain

Coming forth like bird or roar

Taking me back to a place and time

When first planted in my mind

When the tongue is tight

Words are halting

The elixir of spirit loosens it all

Giving voice to the mute

Releasing joy breathing

Beautiful melodies of spirit and fire

Rising from the depths of my heart

Music is the lubricant of my soul

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Signs of Spring

Signs of Spring

It’s the end of January the air is crisp

I turned the garden the vines I clipped

The sun climbs North the days grow long

Signs of spring with sweet bird songs

Some grass is green some weeds are too

Fat buds on vines the sky is blue

But the sure sign Spring will soon be here

Green shoots  pushing through the ground appear

Won’t be long till those buds will  bloom

Seems early for such to grow so soon

We still may have cold wind and snow

Temperatures may drop to freezing or below

Buds will wait till the cold winds pass

They are reminders that winter won’t last

No matter how much the cold winds blow

Daffodils defy  the rain and snow

Reminding us not to worry or fret

We’ll leave the winter with no regret

When Daffodils bloom along the stream

We’ll soon be warm with bright sunbeams

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Labeling

Lots of noisy rhetoric followed the election of our new president. Those who lost were quick to marginalize the voters who came out for Trump as “angry white men!”  When it was certain that he has won,  a distraught newsman attributed it to “angry white voters”.The shock of losing an election that was supposed to be a sure thing made both the News media and the Democratic Party to step back and look at why this happened. This poem is my theory as to why Trump won.

Labeling

I am not an “angry white man”

Who voted for Trump

Tipping the election in unimaginable ways

I am not an NRA advocate

With a house full of guns and skinhead buddies

With revolution on their minds

But then again you never asked

The talking head made up names and labeled us all the same

Branding us all as “angry white men”

*

I am not rich and powerful

Paying for things to go my way

No I am just middle class working man

Tired of voices and promises that never do what they say

But then again you never asked

Just slapped that “angry white man” label on my back

While going on with your failed plan

You never asked me why

*

I am not a racist I voted for Obama

When hope and change first came my way

Only to find it lacking in hope

And different definitions of what constitutes change

But you did not ask me to explain

Just slapped that label beside my name

*

Since you didn’t ask I will tell you why

So many of us came out to vote for Trump

In a government of inaction and racist rants

Vowing not to co-operate with anything he asks

It’s time for a new kind of hope and change

And a leader not a part of the pack

Who will make demands and take a stand

That will make a difference to the common man

Not just for “angry white men” of which there are some

But for good men women and families throughout our land

 

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Photo from web images

 

I Am a Mountain

We think of mountains as lasting forever, but in reality they are constantly being worn down. As I age, I am like the mountain worn away left with the core of who I am. If a person takes time to connect and climb into my mind with me they will find a person who has lived life and has a lot of insights to share. All it takes is patience and time, both of which most people have very little.

I Am a Mountain

I am a mountain of a hundred thousand years

Standing in the midst of all that life throws at me

Once mellow and rolling with the flow

Worn down leaving my hard stately core

I am now jagged rugged with many peaks and valleys

Challenging any and all to climb and enjoy my view

Few try to scale my summit but those who do

Find a breathtaking view of the world they thought they knew

Forever changed in the vista of light and darkness

I am a rock of a hundred thousand years

Solid seemingly immovable your challenge rising

Yet forces greater than all of us dictate my life

This rugged rigid slowly changing monument of creation

Will not stand forever for all to view for all to climb

Take your chances hang on tightly strive to reach the top

It will be definitely worth your while to see

The world from my aging point of view

Of a hundred thousand years

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Photos of Grandfather Mountain, NC: Dwight L. Roth

 

Didn’t See It Coming

Yesterday a dove flew straight into my sliding glass door. I heard the thump and looked out to see the mourning dove sitting stunned under the chair on my deck. After about fifteen minutes, it regained its composure and flew out to a tree limb at the edge of the yard. My conclusion is that the overcast morning woods was reflected in the door and the dove thought she was flying right into the woods, but instead hit the door.  I had to think, when a person or group is so focused on a goal it can sometimes lose touch with actual reality. I believe this is what happened in our recent election.

Mirage:  Didn’t See It Coming

Plunging forward toward the goal

Like a dehydrated desert walker

Seeing things that aren’t really there

Believing out of desperation

It’s all real with salvation soon at hand

Only to vaporize in the shimmering light

Some careen toward visions of reflected images

Mirrored glass windows bright and clear

Visions of reality that do not exist

Wanting them so badly to be true

Mirages of tunnels trees and fields

A sure way through to success at last

Hitting the glass door  never saw it coming

Concussion impact leaving jarred imprints

On illusive false images left behind

Racing toward the mirage of truth

A reflection of direction wrongly taken

Stunned reality leaving one dazed and confused

Didn’t see it coming