John Deere Disc Plow sits
Rusting // memories long gone
Iron and steel recalls
Plowing raw earth deep furrows
Bringing up sharp arrowheads
musket balls and bones
of soldiers // soon forgotten
Blood // mixed with red clay
Photos: Taken at Wesley Chapel, NC – Dwight L. Roth
Dwight, thank you for the photos and for your lovely reflective poem. I am old enough that I have seen someone plowing with a mule. Have a great weekend!
Cheryl
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Wow! You must really be old! LOL That is great! Thank you so much!
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very moving and powerful words, Dwight
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Thank you Beth! I am glad you got it!
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Ah yes, if only that iron & steel could talk!
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Yes, wouldn’t it be interesting! Thanks Jan!
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Oh, nice one, Dwight! It feels very Old South.
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Thanks Liz! Yes it really does.
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🙂
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Ahh…”Rust Never Sleeps”…a Neil Young album from 1973…
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You do know your music Ivor. Thanks!
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It’s one of those lines that has stuck with me over time…. like on piece of rust clinging onto an old pipe….
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Yes, I understand completely… Like Dust in the Wind for me.
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Dust and rust are both words that can be fragile, but also can portray deep feelings…
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Yes that is for sure!
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We have a lot of rust on our pipes! LOL
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Haha… I’m full of rusty joints…
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Dwight, that old plough really is very evocative and your poem tells its story so strongly. With heart and soul.
Miriam
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Thank you so much Miriam!
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I’m a great fan of rust photos – your images and poem show why
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There is a lot of history in rust!! Thanks!
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