Winding River ~ Du Fu “Each piece of flying blossom leaves spring the less, I grieve as myriad points float in the wind. I watch the last ones move before my eyes, And cannot have enough wine pass my lips. Kingfishers nest by the little hall on the river, Unicorns lie at the high tomb’s enclosure. Having studied the world, one must seek joy, For what use is the trap of passing honour?“
Dancing Iris ~ D.L. Roth
Soft Iris petals pirouette in spring sunshine
Sadly they only dance for a day
Flawless beauty kissed by the morning breeze
My eyes cannot soak up enough gorgeous rays
Swallow hides under boathouse eves warming eggs
Friendly trolls live under the floating dock
Nature’s flowers bring happiness in old age
Beauty passes… no need to stop the clock
Photo; Dwight L. Roth
Today is UN Chinese language day. At d’Verse Laura asked us to write an interpretation of a Chinese poem and write it in our own form or the classic Chinese style of poem. She gave us a few to choose one from. I chose Winding River by Du Fu. I was inspired by this beautiful Iris I took a photo of last week. My poem is the second one. I tried to emulate his style. Hopefully it is close.
Today at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words using the word Bother!
As I get older, there are a lot of things that bother me, especially when I watch the evening news. It bothers me how things get twisted to fit an agenda, while the heart of the problem gets little or no mention. Perhaps I am getting to old to worry about it. But it still bother’s me greatly!
My 12 page children’s book Dreamer is available on a pdf. printable format for anyone who would enjoy a free copy. Just email me your request at email@example.com This was my spin-off from Lillian’s prompt last Monday!
We buried my father, 29 years ago today, at the young age of 70! Next month I will turn 74. The years have moved on, and now I have out lived my father. He will always have a place in my heart, as memories of my life with him wander in and out of my consciousness. I am like him in so many ways. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as the saying goes.
The engine moaned loudly as the air brakes screeched on the coal cars, keeping the train at a safe speed.
“You know Henry, if you just use the air breaks, they will burn up before you reach the bottom.” Sometimes you must trust the power in your hands.”
Purrlin sat down in his seat to rest. Simmi jumped up onto his lap and began purring loudly. Henry smiled feeling the wind blowing against his face as he leaned out the window. It seemed the trees were more colorful than ever.
“You can let the engine run on the last half mile,” Purrlin said. “She will roll back to normal when you reach the Broad River… the river… the river…”
The trees were glowing red, orange, and florescent green. Purrlin and Simmi were gone!
“Henry, time get up! You will be late for school.
Paintings: Dwight L. Roth
Spin-off story from Monday’s d’Verse prosery prompt.
Crossing the top of the mountain, the train started down the three mile run. Henry felt the loaded coal cars pushing against the heavy engine. Applying the air-brakes did not seem to slow things down and the train picked up speed as the last car crossed the summit.
“Purrlin, the brakes don’t seem to be holding!” shouted Henry. “What’ll we do?”
The train was now moving faster and faster. Henry looked out the window and could only see the tops of the trees in the ravine below.
“Don’t worry Henry, this Big Boy is made for heavy loads in the mountains! Just throttle it down and let the engine do its work.”
Henry cut the throttle back, as the steam hissed all around him. Simmi hid under the tool box. The engine roared even louder as the weight of the cars pushed forward.
Paintings: Dwight L. Roth
Spin-off story from Monday’s d’Verse Poet’s Pub prosery prompt.
The train climbed through the mountain. Rounding a sweeping curve, Henry looked out the window and saw his engine was pulling a long line of coal cars. Purrlin told Henry they would stop at the water tower along the track ahead.
Henry was living out his dream to be the engineer of a steam train. Simmi put his paws up on the edge of the window and watched the trees as they rolled along. Pulling the rope for the whistle, he listened happily as the sound echoed from ridge to ridge and back again.
“What happens when we get to the top of the mountain?” asked Henry. He recalled an old song he had heard about the wreck of the Old 97.
“As long as we keep a good head of steam, our air breaks should hold fine.” said Purrlin.
Suddenly everything turned dark. Night surrounded them as the train kept rolling down the track. It made Henry uneasy, but as he looked around young Purrlin was still shoveling coal into the firebox and Simmi had now crawled up on his lap for comfort!
Purrlin’s voice seemed clear above the noise of the train. Don’t let the dark night bother you. It only lasts for a short time and soon you will see the light again.”
Henry looked out the window at the full moon peaking above the clouds. He knew as long as the train stayed on the tracks he would be fine. The train’s black smoke billowed back across the engine, and blended into the night sky!
The dark got even darker as the train charged into the mountain tunnel.
At the far end, Henry saw the morning light welcoming him.
Henry took and deep breath and looked into the green aura behind the burning red flame of the candle. Simmi rubbed around his ankles purring. His mind was a little fuzzy now, and seemed to be floating in another dimension. In the background he could hear Purrlin’s calm voice.
“Let your self go boy. Your dream is waiting to be fulfilled!”
Everything faded in a blanket of fog. The green aura of the candle became the green fields on both sides of him as he found himself in the engineer’s seat of a puffing locomotive. Across from him was a young man who looked very much like Purrlin. And there was Simmi the cat curled up at his feet.
Amazing, thought Henry to himself, as he reached up and pulled the rope that brought a shrill whistle piercing the clear mountain air.