You Can’t See My Roots

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You cut me making me bleed

Liquid of life flows down my trunk

You strike and bruise me tearing my skin

Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty

For you can’t see my roots


You cut off my branches take off all my leaves

Thinking surely he will die

You burn me stripping me bare

Leaving me exposed to the elements

Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty

For you can’t see my roots


You cut me down to a stump and haul away my trunk

Not much of me left to show

Surely we have killed him this time…

He has nothing left // his strength is gone”

They do not know // they cannot tell I will rise again

I will come back with exponential strength

For my strength is in my roots

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Posting on d’Verse open link night…  Join us at:

After Time


Everyone keeps time

Loses time

Takes time

Wants more time…


No one wants to talk

About what happens

after time.

Does time stop


eternity begin?

Our last breath…

Easing (Bouncing) the soul out gently…

Does the screen go black

Or just change format?

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Writer’s Block


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With nature as my muse, I rarely have writer’s block. Mine comes from working too hard and being too tired to write. On occasion, I just need a day off. I have been posting almost every day since I started on Word Press back in June of 2016. I do go back and repost some of my poems from previous years; so, my work is not all brand new stuff every day. I also love photography and take photos of everything that interests me. That gives me a library of possibilities to choose from when writing. Sometimes the poem comes first; other times the picture stimulates the poetry.

I open my eyes

Nature’s wonders all around

Rose petal words fall


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Frank Tassone at d’Verse, asked us to discuss how we deal with writer’s block for our Monday Haibun.

A monarch butterfly stopped to feed on my butterfly bush. I snapped away finding so much beauty clears any writer’s block I might have had today.

Join us at: hattps://


Shortness of Days

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Fall brings coolness and shortness of days

Age brings awareness of life’s transient journey

I lose the invincible feeling of youth

replacing it with more time for contemplation

Lengthening shadows of night become clearer

now that I am counting time with a different clock

Reflecting on life changes // I wonder

“Will I be around in ten more years?”

“…or even next year?’

“What challenges will aging present?”

Covid-19 amplifies thoughts of life’s finality

Numbers of casualties rise and fall with the seasons

Questions of, “What if?” shadow my thoughts

Yet, life is to be lived rather than hidden away

So, until changes slow me down, I will press on

doing what makes me and others happy…

Using common sense, enjoying the blessings of life

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

My New Children’s Book

The Sweetest Way to Die

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Dwight L. Roth


Last week I wrote a poem for d’Verse Poets Pub about the ants that invaded our pantry while we were off on our weekend trip to the beach. One of my blogger friends suggested it might make a good children’s story.  After thinking about it for a few days I decided to work one it. This is what came out.  I did my own sketches and inserted them into my original poem.  It ended up being fourteen pages.

If you would like a free pdf. file to make a copy of it, just email me at .

Below are some sample pages from my book:

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The original poem is here:

The Sweetest way to Die

Grandma’s Black Raspberry Pie

Black Raspberry pie

A hug Black Raspberry pie

Thick and smooth as a clear purple sky

made with flour and lard it seems

Topped with a dip of real whipped cream


My earliest recollection

of my grandma’s fruit pie

is sitting at her table

And that twinkle in her eye

As she put a big slice out on my plate

It always brought a big smile to her face

Today at d’Verse, Mish asked us to think of all the different fruits of summer and write a poem about one of them. I chose to revise one I did a few years ago about my Grandma’s Black Raspberry Pie.

Join us at:

Pie Photo: Pinterest

Princess Treasures

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Sweet little sisters

Linger over each shell found;

Assessing whether

the newest one

just might be a little better

than the one before;

Washing the sand away

putting each precious find

into their bucket of memories

to carry home

with them at days end.

Today at d’Verse, Linda asked us to linger on the word linger, and write a Quadrille (exactly 44 words)  using it in some form! My poem is about two sweet little girls we saw who were next to us at the beach last week. They were having so much fun collecting shells in the surf, they did not know anyone else existed.

Join us at:

Photo: Dwight L. Roth