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

Stretching her web of death 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

Posting on d’verse open link night.   Join us at:  https://dversepoets.com

Nothing Lost in Translation


Words, as powerful as they are,  lack something when translated. Earlier this week there was a discussion at d’Verse Poetry Pub about the difficulty in translating poetry from one language to another. To me, it is almost impossible to translate accurately even when getting all the words correct. In some instances there are no words to translate an expression of a given language. When it comes to nature…

Nothing is Lost in Translation

They say, “A picture is worth a thousand words!”

Which shows that only words

    can be lost in translation

But the best poetry of all is nature in full array

A sunset //a mountain vista // a flower in bloom

In the poetry of God // nothing is lost in translation








Trip to the beach 7-4-10 015

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Serafino’s Store


The ugliness of this storefront
Does not diminish the long-held memories
Of climbing those steps as an eight-year -old.
Lunch hour at our elementary school
Gave us time to cross the streetcar tracks…
To go to Serafino’s store to spend a nickle or a penny.
Inside a big case with slanted glass
Allowed us to view all the many choices
Every variety of candy tempted our tastebuds:
Fireballs, cinnamon sticks, and Sugar Daddies
Licorice tubes in a box, wax teeth, candy cigarettes
Necco Wafers, wax bottles of sugar water in a box
Good and Plenty, red licorice, and candy bars…
So many to choose from for our little minds
Yes, the store may be closed
…run down
…and boarded up
But the wonderful joy of climbing those steps
Still brings a smile to my face.
Memories see things as they were
Not as they are


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today on d’verse Mish asked us to look at the beauty in ugliness. We are to write a poem showing a different perspective on what most people would consider ugly. This Fall I went back to my old elementary school and saw it was now a home where someone lived. This is the store where we used to go at lunch to get candy, if we hand any money to spend. It is now boarded up and looking pretty bad. But the memories are still there.

Join us at d’verse: https://dversepoets.com

Golden Gate Morning (a Haibun)

Golden Gate Morning

In 1989 our family took a road trip to California and beyond. We went north west from Bakersfield to Fresno and visited Yosemite National Park.  Then we headed to San Francisco by way of Oakland. It was about 5:00 on Sunday evening when we arrived. We had no problem driving through the city, and then across the Golden Gate Bridge. On the other side, we stopped at the overlook where I took several photographs of the bridge.

I have been wishing to paint the bridge ever since that time, and finally finished this painting this week. I wanted to minimize the colors, so I used mostly black and white and then red on the bridge. I emphasized the ship in the bay to give a center of interest that draws you in to see the bridge. I tried a full color attempt first that I was not happy with, so I went this direction. I switched my haiku to morning instead of evening.

Golden Gate Morning

Summer sun burns off the fog

Ship heads out to sea




Leaving Your Mark


When I was a kid I had a Barlow penknife. It had two blades… a long one and a short one. Knives were a right of passage for kids.  Eventually I got one with four blades  that included a screw driver. Then it was a Swiss Army knife with everything on it. But, when you have a Leatherman, with tempered steel blades you have finally arrived.  We had great fun with our knives and never ever cut ourselves more than a scratch. With everything dangerous off limits for kids these days, the only way for them to leave their mark is with a  permanent marker instead. How sad!

There’s something about carving your name in a tree

That give a momentary feeling of immortality

Feeling that knife sinking through the soft maple bark

Revealing the white inner layer shining through

Your mark // a branding of sorts for the tree

Leaving scars that eventually get grown over

A statement of love never to be mentioned aloud

Chris loves Tiffany // MATT was here // I’m from Texas

Eventually discovering we were barking up the wrong tree

We leave our mark with rings and diamonds instead

These days kids aren’t allowed to have knives

They just might get suspended from school

For carving I love you on the tree in the school yard

Now it is black permanent markers

on the post //on the wall //on the bathroom stall

Eventually we discover that nothing is permanent


Photo: Dwight L. Roth




Scarecrow Politics


Scarecrow politics seems to be the practice of the day. Brainless comments, accusations, and manipulations are scarecrows in the political arena, hoping to scare away those who would attempt to steal their position and power.  With Halloween just around the corner, one wonders what they will dress up like next!

Politics unchanged

Scarecrows and Smokescreens

No need for a brain


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Frank Tassone asked us to do a poem for his Haikai Challenge using the Scarcrow as our prompt. I thought it fit right in with politics so I went there!

Join us at:  https://frankjtassone.com/2018/10/13/haikai-challenge-55-10-13-18-scarecrow-kakashi-haiku-senryu-haibun-tanka-haiga-renga/

Spring/Fall Flowers


With all the rain and warm Fall weather, the azaleas are blooming today. I saw several bushes with blooms all over them.  Other flowers seem confused as well. This week I saw flowering pear trees blooming! Perhaps someone needs to inform them it is not spring!!

Spring blooms in the Fall

Azaleas opening

Put them back to sleep





iPhone photos unedited: Dwight L. Roth

Life’s Pattern


Life’s Pattern

Our life’s a pattern of carefully laid stone

Each laid with care to show a place we owned

My life is built of corners hewn four-square

One layer on layer a box to grow to share

Young trees of green in soil dark find root

A life of sculpted stones well hewn bears fruit

 New bricks in pavement of carefully laid stone


Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse Frank asked us to write a poem in Iambic Pentameter. This is new for me so here is my attempt.  Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Rising Above the Grind

All is Lost - Painting

Rising above the Grind

You can be crushed battered by the waves

Or ride the surf for the thrill of your life

One must rise above to be free

Move beyond expectations

A resurrection of sorts

A new life of purpose

Beyond a crashing surf

Grinding you into a lifeless mass of sand

Freeing one’s self

Repositioning your life

Riding the swell

Carried by the crest

Letting it work for you

Not pound you into the sand

Free to be in control

Moving beyond the negative

Riding your wave of life

To vision and destiny

Winslow Homer - Bringing in the Catch.JPG

Paintings: All is Lost : Dwight L. Roth

Winslow Homer Restoration – The Herring Net : Dwight L. Roth

Which Dwight?

Dwight Roth age one - Masontown,PA 001

I am of the Baby Boomer generation, born after the end of WWII. The doctor came to our house and delivered me on a Sunday morning. My father, who was a pastor, went on to church and preached his morning sermon, even though his wife was in labor. I waited to come into the world until he got back home. As a result, Sunday dinner was a little late. Being the son of a preacher and his wife, my parents named me, Dwight, after a great preacher of the day, Dwight L. Moody.

Which Dwight?

When I was born to my parents delight
With great excitement they named me Dwight
Flemish in origin for blond or white
I don’t think that thought ever came to light
There was a much higher reason for my name
Given for someone of religious fame
Great Chicago revival preacher’s name
The renowned Dwight L. Moody
You can imagine my mother’s consternation
When visitors came to see the new addition
Saying, “Oh, you named him after the General!”
Dwight D. Eisenhower  “Of Course!”


Photo from the Family Album

Amaya at d’Verse asked us to write about the origin of our name. Names hold meaning and significance in our lives and were not just picked at random.

Come join us at:  https://dversepoets.com