Changing Focus

When life overwhelms

Focus on what’s important

Nature’s beauty calls

This has been great painting weather. Today I found an old painting I did back in 2013. It was a black swallowtail from my garden on a 4′ x 5′ canvas. I liked the painting but it was too big for anyone to be interested in, so I cut it down to 31″ x 48,” leaving just he butterfly, and used the top half for another painting I did last year. I had the canvas stored rolled up and it had a couple of places that were damaged, so i decided to remount what was left and touch it up. It turned into a greater restoration than I expected, but I like the end results.

Butterfly Painting – Dwight L. Roth

Daddy’s Girl

Consumed moon disappears on a sunlit ocean

Yellow dreams of mermaids singing in the surf

Solitude’s wish of winter past… walking with daddy

Painted mirth merged in gouged footprints in the sand

Skulls of saints crushed and ground into nature’s delight

Today at d’Verse, Linda introduced us to Samuel Greenberg, American Poet.

“Samuel Greenberg died of tuberculosis in 1917, at age 23. His childhood was spent in poverty on the Lower East Side of New York City. After leaving school at 14 to begin working, he became ill and spent his final years as a patient in several charity hospitals where he did most of his writing.” https://logopoeia.com/greenberg/index.html

Linda gave us a list of descriptive words from The pale Impromptu and asked us to pick five of them and write a poem in any form. The photo was my muse. I took it a couple of summers ago and it has been waiting for this poem! The five I chose start each line of the poem and are in italics.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Click on the Mr. Linkey box to read more poems.

Scottie Dogs

Two little dogs / one white and one black

Childhood entertainment when the service went too long

Carried in my mother’s purse

with Juicy Fruit gum and a silk handkerchief

A magnetic pair in a little white box

Imaginative fun for one little boy

Today is Quadrille Monday (only 44 words) at d’Verse. De asked us to write about magnetism in any way we chose. I was taken back to pre-school days when my mom would carry the magnetic Tricky Dogs in her purse to entertain me at church. I loved playing with them. If you put the like poles together they would spin around and connect from opposite poles. They were great entertainment for me.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Then click on the Mr. Linkey box to read other poets’ work.

Photo from bing images.

Because You’re My Sister

I saw this sign in an old cabin when we visited friends in the mountains a few years ago. It made me smile. It could also apply to our parents. We can’t pick our family members, but we can learn to respect and love them.

My sister was five years older than me. I always looked up to her because she was smart and well liked by all of her teachers. She took time to read to me some of the stories she was reading, and brought me left over pizza from her dates. I am sure I was an aggravation to her from time to time, but we have always maintained a good relationship, even when we disagreed over the years.

Sisters are special

One of a kind friends for life

Smile / she’s stuck with me

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Photo: Family Album

Me and my sister and little brother.

Carolina Girl

Today we decided to visit Dogwood Park. On the way back to our car we passed a cute little high school girl. We discovered she was parked right next to us. I had to smile when I saw her front plate: Carolina Girl… Best in the World.

The younger crowd who likes to go to the beach often find themselves shagging to a beach music band. The Shag is a dance that is very popular on the Carolina beaches. One of the songs they sing goes, “Carolina Girls, best in the world…” The You Tube clip gives you a taste of Beach Music…

Photos; Dwight L. Roth

Your Roots

Beneath every tree are roots

Holding… interlocking… feeding

Bringing strength foundation

Roots the source of all beauty we see

looking at a tree

You’ve heard, “Behind every successful man

is a good woman.”

My mother was that good woman

holding interlocking our family

feeding… caring for each one.

My father was a pillar of the community

on strength and nourishment

of my mom who was always there for him.

An unsung hero

she was the roots of our tree.

Without her none of us would be

standing as we are today.

My Father and Mother on their 40th

My father died at age 70. My mom lived to be 93!

Photos; Dwight L. Roth

A Found Book

Will someone ask in 2116

What’s this odd thing I found in a bin

Packed full of paper and covered with words

Who would save this… how absurd

Archaeologists say it looks like a book

Haven’t seen one of those / let me have a look

What a cumbersome stack of papers

Reading through that would give me the vapors

All this could be stored on the point of a pin

A chip so small and so very thin

They say there were buildings full of these things

They called them libraries and invited people in

They could check out books… it was quite the rage

Taking it home they read every page

If they took one out and didn’t bring it back

A fine was charged to remind them of that

Can’t imagine ever reading a book

Can you imagine how much time that took

*******

Photo from Robert’s Bookstore in Oregon – Dwight L. Roth

This is open link night at d’Verse, where we can link a poem of our choice. I thought this one would help us smile. Hope you enjoy it.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Click on Mr. Linkey box and read poems.

The Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse

I wrote this wild poem four years ago as a response to the upcoming election between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. The conversations then were not that unlike what is being said now, as many could not imagine that Trump could win the election. As we all know he did win and is now trying once more. Only time will tell. It is amazing how the muck of politics goes on and on and the alligators in the swamp keep getting fatter and fatter.

Riding through the dark night of the soul

Comes a headless horseman on a golden steed

Snorting fire and ashes he rides with great speed

No one can stop the galloping Spector

No Donkey nor Elephant, not Fox nor Hound

No one dare be so bold

As the ghastly night round him grows cold

He defies all those who would slow him down

Many have tried and been left on the ground

Some have screamed and some have yelled

But nothing can stop the apocalyptic wail

Out of the swamp through the fog of night

Rides the horseman of the apocalypse

leaving all in a fright

He comes charging the bridge in full moonlight

Not a myth not a tale nor a short lived wail

Will rise up to challenge with ghastly pale

The pending disaster that rides on his tail

In the morning sun he’ll surely be restricted

It was not true as many souls predicted

He’s here for now and he’ll be for a spell

This wild man with no head has tales to tell

The powers tried to slow him down

In that midnight hour as he rode into town

But the pumpkin wielding warrior

Simply brought scare and horror

To politicians far and wide

Bringing chaos and confusion now all is lost

He won’t stop till that last bridge is crossed

********

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Streetcar

Seventy years ago, electric streetcars were an important means of transportation in the community where I was born. A network of tracks ran all over the county. The photo above shows the streetcar passing down the hill in front of my old High School. By the time I went to school there, the Street Cars were a thing of the past. A brand new brick building sat where the corn field is located, just beyond the tracks.

Streetcar comes clanging

Riding rails of yesteryear

Past my old High School

Students and teachers rode by

Old gentleman stops to watch

***

Photo Source: Ed West

The God Perspective

“You know,” he mused, “Some folks don’t believe there is a God. They get all tangled up with religion and theological arguments about who is right and who is wrong, and miss the bigger picture.”

Grandpa always did have a unique perspective on life. He was wise beyond his years, but only shared his wisdom if asked.

“Aren’t your afraid of catching Covid and dying,” I asked?

“You know son, there are a lot worse things in living than in dying. Death is knocking on all of our doors!”

“I believe there is a God who is the source of all life, and that my life will continue on long after this old pain-ridden body is gone.”

I thought about what he said, as he continued, ‘We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’.

“God’s Love is eternal!”

***********

Painting By Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Kim is having us do Prosery. This is when we write a prose piece of flash fiction (144 words) that includes a random line form a poem she chooses for us. She gave us this line from the D. H. Lawerence poem, Hummingbird:We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’. I decided to write my piece as a conversation.

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