Summer Memories

Chris and Jason at Duck, NC 1977 001 (3)

Our first trip to Nags Head
North Carolina’s outer banks…
Camped in the dunes at Duck.
Two excited little boys
climbed the dunes
chased receding waves
created castles in the sand
collected sea shells
and sun rays in July’s heat.
Faces flushed // slept soundly.

Jason Playing in the Surf - 1977 001 (2)

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Mish asked us to used the word flush as our prompt. I decided to leave the tempting current toilet paper shortage behind, and write about a beautiful memory from forty years back. This is Quadrille Monday so our poems must be exactly forty-four words.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Keeping Quiet

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I read this poem earlier this week and thought it was very appropriate for the time we are experiencing, with our stay at home order. Maybe a little silence would be in order.
KEEPING QUIET
by Pablo Naruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about…
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

“Pablo Neruda was a Nobel Prize winning Chilean poet-diplomat and politician. Neruda became known as a poet when he was 13 years old, and wrote in a variety of styles, including surrealist poems, historical epics, overtly political manifestos, a prose autobiography, and passionate love poems such as the ones in his collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (1924). He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.”

                                                                                                                                                                ~From Wikipedia~

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

I See You in There!

 

Laras knot hole eye

Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a Ponderosa Pine stump and can’t get out? Maybe all this staying at home, for who knows how long, will teach us what bears already know; how to hibernate and sleep through the down times! Hopefully we won’t stay as long as Rip Van Winkle. Even so, by the time we come back out the world will be a different place than the one we remember.

Smiling eye peaking

through the knot-hole in our tree

“Come out! It’s springtime!”

***

The air is fresh // sky is blue

We miss your hugs Grandma

*****

Photo: Lara Z. Condon

Balancing Act

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We have been quarantined in our homes for a month and a half due to the pandemic, that started in China and spread all over the globe. The deadly Covid-19 virus has taken many lives and many have caught it and survived. It is a hard decision for leaders to require people to stay home, close schools, shut down stores and wear masks. Now is the time to decide how much longer this can go on. It is just as hard for people who are out of work, out of money, and in desperate straits. This is my opinion poem on the present situation.
There comes a time when choices must be made;
The age old choice of too many people in the boat
Who stays and who has to go for the greater good
Not a choice anyone wants to make for sure;
But, in time of pandemic no country wants to
roll over and play dead while everything goes
down the drain.
Hard choices must be made that will ultimately
affect you and me // living and dying are a part life.
No one wants to be Jonah tossed into the deep…
We all want to be put off on dry land // to live on;
But not making good choices could be apocalyptic.
When the whole world is controlled by leaders
who supersede our freedom to choose;
Then we are in for one wild ride…
one I am not interested in taking.
I believe it is time to come back out of the shadows;
To take the risk knowing the consequences
and begin living and working together again.
Perhaps I will be the first to go as a result!
I am okay with that // if it is my time.

Dr. Seuss photo: Bing clip art

I am posting this for open link night at d”Verse.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Ant Universe

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The first spring flowers appear yellow gold along the creek. As I looked closer, I saw a tiny ant crawling on a petals. I wonder what drives ants. Is it simply instinct or do they actually think about what they are doing. Are they just robots of the creator, or do they like we, think beyond themselves and wonder, “What else is out there?”

Tiny ant explores

its own little universe

Spring flower petals

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

First Grade Impressions

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Teachers thrive on order…
When I was young on my first day of school
One little boy cried tears to fill a pool
The classroom was a scary place that day
Marching in line // no time to poke or play
Our small wooden desks were in long straight lines
Like staunch rigid backbones of long straight spines
Evenly spaced with seats that folded down
Waiting for life where none was to be found
Not a soul whispered //no one made a sound
We all sat stiff and rigid as the teacher made her rounds
Every child’s little heart was now beating fast
I wondered in my mind if this would last
Turns out I’m not made for rigid rows of desks
nor for all those difficult tests
I seem to have one foot outside the box
With a mind running free to write my thoughts

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse we are looking at the word order and applying it to poetry. Lara asked us to write a poem that reflects how we feel about order.  I have never been one to stay inside the lines so order for me has always been difficult as you see in my poem above. You can see First Grade in school made quite an impression on me!

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Chernobyl

Chernobyl photo

It was my first visit to Chernobyl since the reactor meltdown years ago. I grew up there as a child; rode the Ferris Wheel and Bumper Cars in the park. My father worked in a one of many factories owned by the government.
As our SUV pulled into the radiation zone, I could see things had changed. The grass was green, the sky was blue, and wild foxes roamed the fields nearby looking for rabbits and field mice. But, there was an eerie sad silence that seemed to wrap its arms around me.
Pulling up to the factory where my father went each day, I could see the jagged glass broken in the windows; the sagging doors were orange with rust. “No one left and no one came on the bare platform.” Hell must be like this I thought; memories of what once was…

Today at d’verse we are doing Prosery, combining poetry into a 144 word prose piece. Sarah gave a line form a poem that must be incorporated into our flash fiction piece. Our line today comes from a poem called Adelstrop by Edward Thomas. It is: “No one left and no one came on the bare platform.” 

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Bing photo from a YouTube clip.

Resurrection of Beauty

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Easter is here once more. Beauty shrouds us in shades of green. What was buried in the earth now springs forth in full glory! Halleluiah!

Beauty emerges

After the long dark winter

A resurrection

****

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Saturday’s Silence

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My sister shared this with me today.  The sun is bright, the air fresh. We are alive and well, grateful to be safe at home. I share this photo and words from the Corrymeela Community in Belfast:
God of grieving,
God of silence,
there is a strange gift in having time,
one whole day this holy week,
to sit with questions of why
and how long
and to hear no response at all.
To rush from Friday to Sunday,
from death to resurrection,
wouldn’t do either justice.
Nor would it dignify the life
of those whose daily pain and grief
and constant pleas for justice
go unanswered in the world’s daily rhythm.
Let your silence fill this silence,
until our empty noise dies out.

Corrymeela Community is a non-profit organization in Northern Ireland dedicated to help bring healing to those who were traumatized by the many years of conflict and violence  that occurred there between Catholic and Protestant factions.

https://www.corrymeela.org