Super Moon


The Super Moon was up early. Before the sun went down this guy was already sneaking up trying to hide in fading daylight.  I drove downtown thinking I could get the  moon shining against the buildings. The only thing I got was bright setting sun and a faded moon. Later in the evening as the sky darkened the moon shone bright. These are my photos.







Photos: Dwight L. Roth



Who needs mirrors //we have selfies!

Gone are the days of looking in the mirror

Only to leave and forget what we saw

Now we have photos // permanent images

Wild and crazy images posted across the net

So close, we can count the pimples and pinch the zits

Mirrors are so uncertain //fleeting images

Liars we can rationalize and refute

Going back to pretending dementia

Just like the scale’s high numbers

But with Selfies, the narcissistic addiction

We are so enraptured with ourselves

We think others on the web will all agree

Perhaps we need to go back

Look in the mirror and leave it there

Selfies make liars of all

“Like” is a relative term


Clip Art:

Our poetry challenge prompt today on d”Verse comes from Bjorn, who asks us to write a poem about mirrors.  Any poem using the word mirror is ok. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub.


Poetry on d’Verse (a Quadrille)


Like a coffee lover’s dream

Poems of all blends

Streaming in

Words of strong bold flavor

Pain and pleasure detailed

Full of energy // inspiration

Medium blends of flowers,

Birds, sunsets, and shadows,

Mellow blends of moon and stars

Dreams reincarnated

Savored stimulation



Photo: from the d’Verse~Poetry Pub site

Today’s challenge from Victoria is to write a Quadrille (of 44 words) using the word poem in it. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and join the challenge. It is a very inspiring group of writers who share and read together.


Our Love


Our Love  (A Quadrille)

Our love’s a poem

written in the tide…

Spelling out our dreams

on the shore of life

Poem of lasting quality

Ebb and flow from day to day

Smooth, serene, mirroring the sky…

Crashing // bold from deep within

Our Love…

Written for the ages


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today’s challenge from Victoria is to write a Quadrille (of 44 words) using the word poem in it. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and join the challenge. It is a very inspiring group of writers who share and read together.


One Eye Open, One Eye Shut


The neighbors were ejected from their home a few weeks ago. It was very sad to see. An eviction notice had been issued a couple of months ago. Most of us live in our homes without this threat. We have jobs or income to sustain us. But there are many around us who are not so fortunate. They tend to rotate in and out of our neighborhoods. Then there are homeless who have not means of getting a home. The situation is so enormous and overwhelming that in our minds we delegate them out to churches, community shelters or social services. Personally. I have very mixed emotions about this. Sometimes it is easier to close my eyes to it than to try to find a way to help. What do you think?

One Eye Open

One eye open the other eye shut

Through life we go

Friends and family all around

We love their exuberant hugs

Enjoy their joyous laughter

Welcome them into our home

But on the other hand…

We close one eye

Hoping not to know

Wishing not to see

The struggles others face

Who live nearby

Perhaps next door

Keeping to themselves

Sharing only first names

Telling no more

Until one day the sheriff comes

Ejecting them // putting a sign on the door

Amid loud voices and frustrated shouts

No jobs // no money to pay the rent

Now they are gone // the house is empty

Cleaned and prepped

For the next unknown family


Photo: Dwight L. Roth


Peddle Faster

EER_0315Sometimes I feel like Thelma and Louise, who. in the movie. put the peddle to the metal and sailed  off the Grand Canyon.   The closer I get to the end of life the more I realize that I must keep pushing forward, enjoying each day as much as I can. Who knows how long this ride will last, so I keep on peddling into the future knowing full well that the edge of the cliff is not far off. As Dylan Thomas said… “Do not go gentle into that good night… Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Writing poetry is one way for me to rage against the dying of the light, when this life for me comes to an end. Also, it is very rewarding to me.

Peddle Faster

Peddle faster feel the wind

The finish line is now in site

My race is on

But winning is not the goal

Just finishing well

Many slow down // stumble and fall

Barely dragging across the line


I never know what I might encountered

So I give it all I’ve got, while I still can

The finish line is not far off

So I ride with gusto

Enjoy the thrill

Competition is not the goal

In this race of life

Anything can happen

Fading away is not my plan

It is all about finishing well

For the finish line is now in site

But // I’ve still got a long way to go

Only time will tell


Photos: Dwight L. Roth

You Can’t See My Roots


You Can’t See My Roots

You cut me making me bleed

Liquid of life flows down my trunk

You strike and bruise me tearing my skin

Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty

For you can’t see my roots


You cut off my branches take off all my leaves

Thinking surely he will die

You burn me stripping me bare

Leaving me exposed to the elements

Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty

For you can’t see my roots


You cut me down to a stump and haul away my trunk

Not much of me left to show

Surely we have killed him this time

He has nothing left // his strength is gone

They do not know // they cannot tell I will rise again

I will come back with exponential strength

For my strength is in my roots

Visual Learner


If you are like me you might like the photo that comes with a poem as well or better than the poem itself. The beauty of the photo grabs your mind and won’t let go. I received a poem some time ago from my sister. The beautiful field of flowers and the mountains in the background captivated me much more than the poem. I thought how superficial that I would go for a photo over a poem. Perhaps I am superficial.

Call Me Superficial

Call me superficial… when seeing a picture

Causes words to escape me

When beauty take precedence over substance

And I am drawn by what my eyes behold


Call me superficial when a picture in a story

Catches my attention and sets my mind on the fire

My imagination soars and transports my soul

To realms beyond word or pen


Call me superficial when melody and harmony

Lift my spirit from the very first note

Only to be followed by words

Adding to or taking away my feeling of awe


Call me superficial when the background blurs

Seven layers deep

And the last brush stroke is the first I see


All that work labor and toil

Only to end in an accent of light against dark

Beauty against substance


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

It is open mike night at d’Verse~Poetry Pub tonight so I get to post a poem of my choice with the group. The poem above is one of my all time favorites. Come join us at:

She Waits


Web of Death

In her dark tunnel she hides

Lying in wait for the blazing sun

Dew drops clinging to her web

Breathing quietly // with the patience of Job…

Knowing lunch comes as soft breezes blow.

Her web of death // spun for unwitting insects

Entangled in her shimmering threads.

Thin as fiber optics… strong as steel

Once entangled // they are her next meal

From her tunnel of darkness she emerges

Like a horror on the fun-house ride

One venomous bite // and it’s all over

Then she’s back inside


Photo: Dwight L. Roth


When I was a boy, I spent many hours running through the woods behind our house. My friend Henry and I watched episodes of The Lone Ranger, and then head for the woods to pretend we were the real thing. It was great fun, but sometimes we got off the beaten paths and into the green leaves of poison ivy beside the trails. By the next morning I would be scratching my ankles and between my toes. If the oil from the leaves got on our face it could swell our face and might require a doctors visit. Most of the time we simply rubbed on pink calamine lotion and kept on playing.

The song above by the Coasters came out in the fifties. With its catchy lines it became a song you could not get out of your head once you heard it. I have always enjoyed hearing the famous hook, “Poison I—vy, Poison I—-vy… Late at night while you’re sleeping Poison Ivy comes creeping around.? I am not sure exactly what the real meaning of the song is since it could be interpreted in a couple of different ways.  Be sure to listen to the clip above, for a taste of fifties music, and see what you think?

Poison Ivy

Barefoot boys running on rabbit trails

Chasing imaginary figures into the woods

Cowboys and Indians running wild

So much fun to run and hide

Pearl handled six-shooters and homemade rifles

All played a part in our virtual reality games

We were Daniel Boone and Davy Crocket

Crouching in the leaves behind a fallen tree.

That green three clustered foliage didn’t worry us

By morning night dreams turned to itchy nightmares.

Late at night while we’re sleeping 

Poison Ivy came a creepin’ around…”

Blisters and red bumps covered our toes

Even had a few bumps on our nose

Mom brought the bottle of Pepto-pink liquid

Calamine lotion spread over it all like jam

Didn’t seem to help too much at the time

It still had to run its itchy course


Poison Ivy song: Youtube clip from the Coasters

Our prompt from Bjorn today was to write a poem including a poisonous plant in our poem. Come join us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and see what everyone is doing.