Time Out from Reading

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George hadn’t seen much of his young friend. Jim love reading books up in his tree house where he would read for hours.

As he sat on his porch, Old Blue lying at his feet, George longed for the times when Jim would come sit on his swing and hear about the night George got trapped on the mountain in a blizzard.

A young boy should be out riding his bike and swimming in the pond thought George. Then an idea came to mind that would benefit them both. George walked down to the tree and hollered up at Jim.

“Jim, tomorrow I am taking you on a hike I think you will like.”

“And bring no book, for this one day we’ll give to idleness.”

You and I are going to hike up to that cave where I shot at the mountain lion!

Treehouse Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Ingrid is having us write prosery, which is a prose piece of 144 words and including a line from a poem that she has pick for us.

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She taken them from Wordsworth’s ‘Lines Written at a small distance from my House…‘ which is included in the collection Lyrical Ballads, a groundbreaking poetic collaboration between Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, published in several editions between 1798 and 1802. The ‘Lines’ of this poem are addressed to his sister, Dorothy, and the particular lines I have picked out for you are these:

“And bring no book, for this one day
We’ll give to idleness.”

My story is a spin-off of a story I wrote called the Climb about an old man hunting in the mountains and getting caught in a blizzard. Following is the first segment of the Climb.

https://wordpress.com/post/rothpoetry.wordpress.com/27090   plus eight more segments

Saskatchewan Screamer


The weatherman called it the “Saskatchewan Screamer”! A big weather front moved through the Carolinas today bringing deep snow to the mountains, but only ice and freezing rain to our area. I think it lost all of its scream by the time it got to us.  I filled the open bird feeder with lots of seeds and scattered some on the deck as well. The birds loved it and so did the squirrel. I counted at least ten different kinds of birds that came to eat lunch with us today.

Sleet and freezing rain

Squirrel stuffs himself with my seeds

Icicles hang // drip


Little birds dropped by for lunch

Crumbs from master squirrel’s table

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Cellow Yat (a nonsense poem)

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The Neighbor’s Cellow Yat slinks into my yard

and hunkers down underneath my Fird Beeder.

With the patience of a stone statue, she waits…

for the Firds to land on the Beeder

A Wittle Lren comes looking for Beeds

sitting right above the Cellow Yat.

But she thinks to herself, “A Wittle Lren?”

What kind of meal is that!?”

So patiently she waits as Srown Barrows fly out and back;

Hoping for a bigger mouthful than a Barrow or a Lren

or the tiny Nittle Luthatch, not even enough for a snack…

All foraging at the Fird Beeder above Cellow Yat.

Aha, a big Cat Fardinal has arrived on the Beeder landing

gobbling down sunflowers, dropping shells on Cellow Yat’s head

But just when she thought this a meal worth taking…

her leap left her only a Fouth Mull of Meathers!

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Bjorn, at d’Verse, asked us to write a nonsense poem. My first inclination was that is silly. The second was, I can’t do that. But I kept mulling it over and decided my Left Brain was trying to tell my Right Brain, “This was not a logical thing to do.” So, after thinking about it overnight, I sat down and started writing. I remembered Shel Silverstein’s poem about the Runny Babbit and decided to try this format. This is the story of our neighbor’s big Yellow Cat! Hope you enjoy it!

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Covid got you blue… Try something New


During this cold month of January, I decided to try something new… learning to draw! A few weeks ago, my friend Chuck aka. The Reluctant Poet, suggested that I check out the book, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, by Betty Edwards. He found it to be a great guide to learning how to use the right side of your brain. Drawing and perspective are very difficult for me to get correct, so I decided to order it from amazon.com. I found it to be most interesting, enlightening, and helpful.

After reading the first four chapters describing how the two sides of the brain work together, and sometimes against each other, I started my third drawing assignment today. It was to copy a drawing by Picasso of Igor Stravinski. In order to engage the right side of the brain, she asked us to draw the picture upside down! This overrides the desire to draw as we did as children, which is often sketchy and out of proportion with reality. After an hour of drawing upside down, I turned them around and this was the result. It was amazing to me to see how this works.  I am looking forward to seeing what else I can do.

Left Brain or Right Brain

Our dominate traits shine through

Which one are you?


Don’t let the left side stop your

 true creative expression

Check out Chuck’s Site:   https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/56420298

Pig Pickin’ Carolina Style

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Sizzling juices drip onto white hot charcoal

Pig cooker leaks wonderful aromas

Slow cooking on steel mesh.

Split pig splashed with salt, vinegar, and red pepper

Absorbing flavors that penetrate deep.

Five hours over glowing charcoal

Turns skin edges crispy brown.

When the lid is raised for the final time

Pork falls off the bone browned to perfection…

Flavor like none other is Eastern North Carolina bar-b-que.

Folks gather round with plates in hand

Walking by picking the right morsel to suit their pallet

Ham, loin, spareribs, and cracklins

Then on to the table spread of pot-luck choices

Better than any buffet downtown.


Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Sarah asked us to write a poem about the way food affect us and speaks to our soul. To me there is nothing much better than a Church Picnic. This poem is about a year when we had a Labor Day Pig Pickin’. The food and fellowship were wonderful as we enjoyed Carolina Pork Bar-B-Que and a wonderful layout of food.

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Happiness is my muse

along with sadness, loneliness, and despair

Beauty is my muse

found in words, truth, and nature all around

People are my muse

babies, children, old folks, and young

As the old poet once said,

Beauty is truth and truth beauty”

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’ is perhaps the most famous statement John Keats ever wrote. But what do these words mean? They form part of the concluding couplet to his poem ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, perhaps the most famous of his five Odes which he composed in1819.”


Today at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to write about our muse. I could not settle on just one, so I listed them all!

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High Rise Condo

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A pair of Squirrels moved into the high-rise condo next door. They are making their nest in the rotting Maple tree at the edge of my back yard. From my window I watch them scurrying up and down and in and out, filling the bottom with sticks and carving out an upper escape route with their teeth.

This used to be the home of a pair of Red Bellied Woodpeckers a few years ago. I watched them as well, as they drilled into the tree with their strong beaks. They only stayed a year and then the squirrels moved in making the hole bigger and bigger each year. When a storm blew off the top of the tree, the deterioration set in and it began to decay rapidly.

This year we will have a nest of baby squirrels who will come looking for seeds at my bird feeder. Seems there is on end to squirrels.

New neighbors move in

rotten High-Rise // a good home

for pesky squirrels

I took these photos this morning. I saw them go up into the tree, so I got my camera and walked out to the tree. While I stood freezing in the yard, they stayed in the tree waiting for me to leave. Finally, they came out and went up the nearby tree and disappeared. They will be back.

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Photos; Dwight L. Roth

The Atrocities of Being Right


On this anniversary of the violent attack on the US capital, I thought perhaps this poem is a good one to reflect on as we think about the motivation behind it all. It a time when the country is divided politically and philosophically, it all boils down to who is right!  When one is convinced, he/she is right anything can and will happen. We never seem to learn from history. Religion and Politics have both lost their way time and time again.

This poem is written from a semi-theological point of view but crosses over into all aspects of being right. 

The Atrocities of Being Right

Who decides what is right or wrong?

This question is decided before we’re born

So, who is really right and who is all wrong?

Really depends on where you’re born

In India, in Iran, in China or Japan

Truth there is dealt a different hand


So sad the atrocities that have been done

Killing and maiming and burning the one

Who might disagree with our chosen one


How many buildings must we burn

Or suicide bombers take their turn

Is life not important?

Have we no regard?

As long as we’re right killing is not hard

All is done in the name of our cause

Blessings on us and curses abroad


What atrocities we’ve exacted

On the brotherhood of man

Torture, stoning, and fire, is our plan

With bombs and guns and deadly airplanes


All because “WE” have the “truth”


We forget that in the heart of every man

Love crosses every span

Love can bridge the gulf of war

Of bombs, of hate and so much more

Ironic that in every Book

Loving your neighbor is what it took


To change the world, it takes God’s love

Overcoming hate comes from above

Stop the atrocities // demanding our rights

The truth of God’s Love is what brings Light


Race, Religion, Politics, and Creed

Will one day disappear

Only God’s love will still be there

So believe what you choose, and be happy in it

But don’t demand that all must fit in it

Your perception of right or wrong

Will one day soon be gone

Only Love remains!

I Corinthians 13


Dwight L. Roth 12-2014

Painting; Dwight L. Roth

Sharing for open link night at d’Verse Poets Pub.

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Life’s Potholes


Today I patched potholes in the street

Filling cracks // stretchmarks growing wider

Black sticky tar // thick as nutty pudding

Seals the holes and slows deterioration


Our life is like road paved and sweet

We live like it will last forever

But pavement cracks and potholes widen

from our activities and endless recreation


Some seek to just pave over // making everything neat

Without fixing personal issues they hide her

When troubles come from their past that’s hidden

Life’s pavement crumbles from disillusion


So, keep life’s road protected from the heat

And from foul and nasty weather

Avoid division // help relationships widen

Address life’s potholes // sealed with occlusion


Sanaa at d’Verse, challenged us to write from French poetic history.

“Today we will delve deep into the French poetic form “Rima Dissolutas.” Popular with 12th and 13th century French poets, rimas dissolutas is a poem that rhymes and doesn’t rhyme.

For instance, each stanza contains no end rhymes, but each line in each stanza rhymes with the corresponding line in the next stanza–sometimes employing an envoi at the end.”

I had to wait a day to get this one to work for me. Today my friend Peter helped me patch some potholes in our neighborhood. A few neighbors donated to the cause, and we purchased and used 7 bags of asphalt mix in the holes and cracks. This gave me the inspiration for today’s poem. I hope I have the form correct.

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Oh No!!

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Seeing our grandson for the first time since before Covid-19 created personal celebration in our minds. He and my son came down from Virginia on the Tuesday after Christmas.

We planned a big turkey dinner and invited our other son and family to join us. All was going well with the preparation. The Turkey was put in a browning bag to bake. Soon after it started baking, my wife realized she had forgotten to put the rack under the turkey to keep it up off the pan.

Carefully we pulled the hot turkey out of the oven. With big oven gloves, I lifted the turkey, and she slid the rack under it, That is when everything went South!

I pushed the broiler pan with the turkey back into the oven. The only problem was I did not push the oven rack back with it!! The turkey and the pan dropped off the back edge of the oven rack and wedged against the oven wall. The bag began to melt into the turkey!

Frantically we retrieved the turkey, moved it onto the sink counter, and we took it out of the melted bag. The heat of the oven wall melted the bag into the turkey’s skin. I carefully cut the damaged skin off the turkey, and we put it into a new browning bag. We were putting it back into the oven just as my son and grandson walked in the door.


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Foul turkey gobbled!

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Lisa asked us to write a Haibun about some aspect of our holiday celebration. I decided to share one of a few faux pas that occurred over our Christmas celebration.

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