The Beat Goes On

Lone Bass Man keeps the beat

Dancers waltz // music flows sweet

One, two, three // one, two, three

Mellow strings

Melody carries them

Floating high in the hall

Beat goes on

Light steps move // paired as one

Blue Danube

flows gently in their ears

The notes stop // curtsies // bows

The bass man packs it up

He never gets to dance

Lone Bass Man Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse Bjorn asked us to look at the beat in poetry. He asked us to write a poem with the three-beat rhythm of the Waltz.

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Today we had lunch and a great visit with some old friends. Dan enjoys beekeeping in his back yard. He built the hive tower from plans he found on the internet. He had some difficulty this spring with the hive swarming up into a tree, but he was finally able to coax them back into the hive. He is hoping they will continue to make honey as seen through the glass window. Each layer has a glass window so he can monitor their progress.

Pure natural sweetness

Organic gold stored in wax

We take a quick peek

Dan and his Bee Hive
Arrival and departure gate

Making Honey Combs

Bee Hives

IPhone Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Billy Collins ~ Poet

When I read Aimless Love, I was hooked

You write my kind of poetry

Clear, concise, and totally understandable

Images that took me places

Tasting life’s best as I read your words

Your lines never failed to captivate me

And, when I reached the last line

you left me satisfied deep in my soul

You are the poet I would like to become

Photo; Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse were were asked to write a poem tribute to our favorite poet. I chose Billy Collins for the reasons given above. I like poetry that is readable, not a tangle of words that might have five different meanings. His writing style is really wonderful.

You can read his poem Aimless Love here:

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She wound herself around the wounds of his heart

so tightly he could not breath.

In time,

she squeezed the life out of him,

leaving wounds

gaping in the sunlight.

The relationship was not symbiotic;

rather, symptomatic

of wounds and insecurities

all her own.

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Today is Quadrille Monday at d’Verse Poets Pub. Lillian asked us to write a Quadrille (44 Words) using the word wound. Being a homophone, she challenged us further to use both meanings in our poem.

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Beyond Brokenness


What do you see when something is broken

An object to discard

Or an object restored

Half-full or half-empty

Perspective is everything

Affects all of life

We all become broken

At some time in our life

Thinking we are beyond repair

But God sees us otherwise

And restores us with his grace

His perspective

His Love

Are always there

We always have our place

Way beyond

What we could ask or think

Jose Ramirez – 1937

Photos & Painting: Dwight L. Roth


A Killdeer is such a well adapted bird. She make her nest on the ground in a gravely area, where her speckled eggs blend in so well you cannot see them at first glance. In my experience coming across a Killdeer nest, the mother leaves the nest and attempts to draw my attention. She runs a short distance and calls, waiting for me to follow her away from her nest. I am always amazed that she can hatch her brood among the stones.

Birthed in stones they sit

Fledglings wait for mother’s food

Blending perfectly

Hiding from you in plain sight

Mother’s cries draw you away

These wonderful photos were posted on my Facebook page today, and I am grateful to Janette Sharp for allowing me to use them in my post.

Our Walls

Walls built with stones // mortar of memories

Locking tightly together each painful reality

Stacking // cementing them tightly in place

Till the soul is hidden without even a trace

Dungeon of doom condemning the soul

Cold place of solitude where no one can dwell

A roof on top keeps out the light

Beautiful on the outside; but dark in the heart

Protected // guarded from any more pain

Windows boarded up to keep out the rain

Though years have gone by, the walls still close in

Creating a chasm the soul cannot swim

A castle on the hill of life with walls strong and tall

No windows // no drawbridge // no one comes to call

A lifetime of memories too painful to tell

A soul locked in memories

A real living hell


Koblontz Fortress photo: Dwight L. Roth

Also posting this one on d’Verse Poets Pub open link today. Join us at:

Stairway to Heaven

A little girl saw a long wooden ladder, with wheels as tall as she was, sitting inside the Cathedral door. Seeing the priest greeting Sunday parishioners nearby, she reached over tugging on the arm of his robe.

Her mother quickly pulled her away and said, “Don’t bother the priest while he is greeting people!”

The priest overhearing what was happening said, “It is quite alright. What would you like to know young lady.”

“Is that the stairway to heaven?” she asked.

“No child, Heaven is much farther away than this ladder could reach. This one is for changing our lightbulbs.”

“Well, where is God?” asked the little girl.

“Oh, Only mouths are we, who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? God is the center of all that exists, both near and far.”

“And, thank you for asking.”

Today at d’Verse, Sanaa introduced a Prosery prompt. It requires a short prose piece, only 144 words, that includes a line from a poem that she has chosen. The line is“Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”

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Photo from the Stasbourg Cathedral: Dwight L. Roth