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.
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.
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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
“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.