When I first saw this sticker, I had to smile. If this were true I definitely would qualify. Seems I had a hard time convincing my wife! Philosophy does not seem to change reality! Clutter is still clutter. This is my limerick full of wishful thinking!!
When she saw here man’s bench she would mutter
His workbench was covered with clutter
Then she was told
He was a genius to behold
So no more words did she utter
I must say it has improved greatly since this photo was taken!!
Everything stops as lights blink red
We wait under ominous dark clouds
for the light to turn green
Instead it turns a flashing yellow
Warning us to take caution
As we move through life’s intersection
An accident here can be deadly
Slowly the line begins to move
Seeing the light break in the clouds
Bringing hope of lifting clouds
and brighter days ahead
**********
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
A stream of consciousness poem
Purple hyacinths
Sharing color with raindrops
Ephemeral gems
Our disposable society has a lot of downside and excess baggage that comes with it. I believe we lose so much these days because we are too quick to discard what we once held dear. Whether it be friends or family or spouse, everything these days is dispensable. Commitment and vows seem to be archaic confinements in this generation. We seem to forget that in relationships we will have differences; things that may hurt deeply, but forgiveness is always a part of life. Without forgiveness, we will go on repeating our same mistakes and adding more and more baggage to our life’s load.
She tells me it’s time to throw it out
Faded and worn // button missing
But to me it is something special
A security blanket of sorts
Putting on this old shirt is like
putting on a hug
*
Just like a long-time friend
with all our quirks and flaws
We are something special
A security blanket of sorts
Having you as a friend is like
putting on a hug
*
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Sharing this one on open link night at d’Verse.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Then click on the Mr. Linkey box to read from the different poets.
“Broken shadows across the cracked ground”
Sunflower bows its withered head
Dry seeds pecked out by finches
Leaves droop in hot sunshine
Stalk towering tall
Equinox winks
Trees blushing
Welcome
Fall
***
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today’s Poetics at d’Verse once again challenges me to try something new. Laura asked us to write a poem using a line from a list given. The one I am doing is the Nonet, which is syllable based starting with nine and ending with one. She gave us a choice of beginning lines and we had to continue it in sequence. I chose: “Broken shadows across the cracked ground” (cite Merwin) .With the Fall Equinox just around the corner, I used my dried up sunflower as my subject.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com click on the Mr. Linkey box and choose a poem to read from the list of writers.
A Dunkard Brethren church once sat at the top of the ridge overlooking Willow Run. Now in crumbles of brick and mortar, flowering honeysuckle invite bees to commune at their cups of sweetness. Blacksnakes slither through the rubble looking for a toad or rat residing there.
It was in this church where itinerant preachers on horseback brought fiery brimstone, forgiveness, and grace to the faithful who gathered. Souls were saved and dunked all the way under in Willow Run.
On the hillside the full moon reflects off of a few protruding graveyard stones. Most have long since been overgrown and broken. The names on the stones kiss the ground, above the deceased as “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”
Tales are told by the ancients, who still live nearby, that at midnight’s full moon rise, horses pounding hooves echo through the night!
Today at d’Verse, Merril introduce a prosery prompt. This is a short story of no more than 144 words that can be flash fiction, true, or far out imaginary. It must include a random line from a poem that she shared with us. Her line was from a Mary Oliver poem, (Death at Wind River),“In their dreams they sleep with the moon.” My story is flash fiction, based on a little church from my home town. My two brothers and I visited there two years ago, and I took a bunch of photos. These are a couple of photos from there. The story is made up.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com
When I was an twelve years old, in 1959, I was big for my age. My mother bought me clothes that had ” Husky” on the label. I felt very self-conscious and wished I could be skinny, fit, and muscular like the Charles Atlas ads I saw in the back of every comic book. Once, I cut out the ad filled, in my name and information, and sent it in. In a couple of weeks, I got an envelop with a set of mimeographed pages illustrating a set of exercised to do. I soon lost interest in that effort.
When I tuned thirteen, my parents had the insight to send me to work summers on my uncle’s dairy farm. Daily labor pitching haybales worked much better for becoming fit. I loved the farm, and worked there five summers. By the time I graduated high school, I was slim, trim and muscular. Now I am back to Husky plus!
Atlas course goes bust
Baling hay builds strong muscles
Summers on the farm
Cardinal hanging on
Shelling out sunflower seeds
Precarious perch
Many still shut in struggling
Living on the edge each day
***
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
This morning I turned on the TV to watch and remember the 9-11 attacks, that killed so many innocent people in New York City. There were comments and news bites, but the talking heads kept interrupting and distracting. Network TV went on with trivia as usual. As the Vice President delivered his remarks. only one network was watching. The rest had already moved on to old news! It just caught me the wrong way, so I decided to write a poem reflecting on my feelings of the morning.
Planes crashing into towers
New York City belching smoke
Americans at work
Oblivious
News trickles into tsunami
Eyes and Ears glued
Real-time terror
Quite different from
Video Games
Reality blended with tears
*
Flash forward…
Talk shows // Politics
Preempt memories
Horrors dressed in flowers
Commentators jabber
while Vice-President speaks
Dead names read
Unheard
*
Sad specifics
Too much for delicate ears
Might reignite fear and anger
More salacious news appeals
How sad when heroes
Go unrecognized
Soon to be forgotten
*
Replaced by
A magnificent tower
A fountain
A marble stone
engraved with names of lost
Loved ones still mourn
CNN regurgitates
President’s faux pas
******
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Peter from Australia challenged us to focus on editing. He said we should write like a dog and edit like a cat. Love what you write, then go back and edit like it was the first time you read it. He asked us to take a poem we had already written and reedit it. Then post both poems to show the changes. This is a poem I did a couple of years ago.
Face the Light
In the black darkness
one can see a candle
burning in the distance
…unless he turns his back
staring into the darkness
where there is no light
The first is hope
…the other is depression
Turn until you see the light
Focus on it
Follow it
It will light your way
Guiding you out of the darkness
********************************
Face the Light
Black darkness overwhelms
Distant candle burns // shines
Bringing glimmer’s promise
…unless I turn back
staring into the abyss
blackness swallowing me
*
Choosing hope over
…dark depression
I strain against darkness grasping light
Focus // Follow glimmer’s path
Light of Promise // Guides me
Brighter day dawns
Darkness to Light
********
For some great editing tips join us at: https//dversepoets.com
