Kentucky Colonels

I saw this hot Corvette waiting for the light to change. The proud owner of this car was flaunting his recognition for the world to see. I discovered after I got home that the KY Col. on the license plate is a title given to someone who has had a great beneficial achievement or accomplishment in their life. It is the highest recognition awarded by the Governor of the State of Kentucky.

Several awards are given each year to those deemed worthy of the recognition. Receiving the award allows the recipient to become part of a distinguished club known as the Kentucky Colonels. Thereafter they can have the title Colonel in front of their name. The most famous one many of us recognize is Colonel Harlen Sanders who started the Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise.

Humility is lost in the pride of accomplishment

Title and recognition take precedence over everything else

**

Riding down the road in a hot red Corvette

He announces to everyone, “I am the greatest!”

**

Being a Kentucky Colonel is a fine achievement

But serving others seems worthy of greater recognition

**

So many everyday people go to work each day

Doing what many might call mundane

**

No awards, little recognition, just dedication

They are the humble colonels of everyday life

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Posting for d’Verse Poets Pub open link night.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

For more information check out the link below:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kentucky_Colonel

Waiting for a Train

When you are six or seven, that big black steam train

looks gigantic as it charges down the track

Smoke streaming in a long trail back over the cars

Hauling coal and coke down along the Monongahela River

***

My train rides were only in my mind as I watched

waving to the engineer as he leaned out the window

blowing that piercing whistle as it painted the crossing

with sound louder than that huffing puffing engine

***

I would count the cars as they rumbled by loaded with coke

Often as many as a hundred cars passed before the red caboose

appeared for a moment then gone on down the line

As we watched it disappeared from sight in the evening light

***

Those memories are etched in my mind as much as if

I had been riding on the train through all the little coal mine

patches of houses, all lined up covered with asphalt brick

and “All made out of ticky tacky and all look just the same.”

***

click to enlarge:

 

Paintings: Dwight L. Roth

Posting for Punam’s d’Verse post prompt of a poem about riding on a train. My family never rode the train, but we waited at the crossing for many of them to pass, as I dreamed how much fun it would be to be the engineer driving that big Pennsylvania Dragon, as I called it. I have enjoyed painting my memories of these trains.

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Solstice Timing

For me the Summer Solstice is all about timing. It is at this point that my green tomatoes will start turning orange, then red, hopefully in time for the 4th of July! I can hardly wait to sink my teeth into a beautiful BLT sandwich!

Solstice triggers fruit

Ripening right on schedule

Red-ripe tomatoes

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Posting for Haibun Monday Solstice prompt at d’Verse Poets Pub.

Siesta

 

Found this little toady frog sleeping under my water hose yesterday. I was fascinated by the contrasting camouflage of white on black. He was stuck tight with the little suckers on his feet and did not wake up even as I stretched out the hose to water my flowers. It was a hot day, and he was on the shady side of the house trying to stay cool. He did not wake up till I came back and sprinkled him with water. I turned around and when I turned back again, he was gone!

Summer heat arrives

Toad sleeps in garden hose wrap

Stuck tightly dreaming

***

Blending black and white contrasts

Hoping not to be disturbed

Waking up like Rip Van Winkle!

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

 

Father’s Day: Remembering Pop’s Favorite Things

Pop’s Favorite Things

My pop was not only a preacher

But a teacher, a storyteller, and a cook

Loved people interactions

Had many stories to tell such as

his friendship with the Jewish jeweler

in our small town, Mr. Herschkowitz…

who gave him silver cuff links and gold buttons

for his stiff suit collar when he stopped by

As a teacher he loved illustrating stories

and lessons on the chalk board

Told lots of stories in his sermon

Told me stories while cutting my hair

Pop loved to eat… and cook

On Sunday’s he loved making waffles,

from his aunt’s favorite recipe,

to go with rich gravy from the chicken

that slowly roasted all morning while we were at church

He loved fried sausage, pork chops, and bacon

He always wiped the pan clean with a slice of bread

His version of Texas Toast…

even though we were in Pennsylvania

He loved oysters from a can that he made into soup,

which WE ate the broth. and He enjoyed the rest

He even liked frying up beef brains

with a mix of eggs and crackers…

much to our disgust.

He really enjoyed good sharp cheese and crackers

The square white ones with lots of salt

Oh, and I could not forget the ice cream

that we often ate before going to bed

Perhaps all these habits lead to his early demise…

A heart with a blocked artery

before we had bypasses and stents

He died at the early age of 70

But I believe he really enjoyed life

and had few regrets.

***

photo: Dwight L. Roth

Mirage

Mirror images reflect back

False illusions of safe passage

Wishing can sometimes distort reality

Twisting perception

Creating mirage visions

Seeing only desired images

In that liminal mind space

Plunging full speed ahead

Toward wishful vistas

Floating free

No danger in sight

Suddenly

Crashing head on

Into the mirror of unreality

Stunned and shaken

I gather my senses

Take a second look

Shed false political illusions

Distinguish true from false

Move forward with awareness

Comprehending mirage from reality

Knowing the difference

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Dora gave us a challenging prompt of writing a poem about liminal spaces. I thought this poem about the mirage of politics would be that space.

Joins us at: https://dversepoets.com

Sifting Memories

How fast we forget… lose details.

Even what we think are hard core facts

as years roll by, seem to become

 figments of our imagination.

We tend to sift out the bad

and remember the good.

Unless it’s trauma…

Then we remember every detail.

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Written for Lillians Quadrille prompt, figment, at d’Verse Poets Pub.

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Quick Fix or a Longterm Solution

Nothing tastes as good as thinner feels❣️

~Cindy Gurgakas

As a result of my recent illness, I dropped another ten pounds, which makes me forty pounds lighter than a year ago in May. As I shared earlier, on my birthday last year, I was getting ready to move into the three hundred range. I was way too big and getting in my own road. Bending over and getting up and down was getting more and more difficult. I vowed I would not move into the three hundred range and started cutting out the carbs that I love so much. Bread and butter and Pizza were the biggest culprits. When I cut them out and started eating lighter and healthier, the pounds slowly started coming off and have continued to do so.  My clothes that were once tight are now baggy and my belt is now three to four notches tighter than back then. 

But the biggest benefit is that I feel better. I can get around better and function more easily. A month or so ago when I posted about this, my friend Cindy sent me the above quote as a follow up comment on the subject. It really says it all for me, “Nothing tastes as good as thinner feels!” This is so true. I have really missed the pizza and the French Bread and thick butter, but the trade-off is so much better! I eat bread on occasion, but pizza not so much. It has been worth it to me to take lasting satisfaction over short term gratification.

What tastes so good going down

Has a tendency to hang around

Packing on the pounds!

Cindy’s blog:  https://uniquelyfitblog.com/ 

 

A Hop Skip and a Jump

 

 

As we stood there contemplating our fate

We saw you suddenly jump into the pit

and with one leap forward you passed

through the shimmering blue portal and disappeared

It looked so easy…  anyone could do it

Yet there was reluctance on my part

Jumping into the unknown, passing on

Into what… Would it be for the better?

A second one now took the leap, jumping in

And with one forward leap he too disappeared

Through portal into the unknown

***

Life is like this it seems as we all stand on the edge

Just one jump and leap from this life to the next

Some consciously make that choice to jump

While many hesitate taking the leap

Others are suddenly pushed over the edge

By circumstances beyond their control

With no option but to leap through portal

To what we all hope is a better existence than we

Are experiencing here in this physical world

***

The images in this poem came from a dream I had where passing from this world to the next seemed so simple. It was a very odd dream, but it reminded me we are all always there poised waiting for our moment to jump and leap through the portal.

Posting for open link night at d’Verse.  Join us at: https://dversepoets.com 

 

 

 

 

Lead-Moon-Balloon (Ekphrastic Fantasy)

Starship travelers float along neath their lead-moon-balloon

Sailing just above the fray // isolated from the chaos below

Looking down with scorn on everybody beneath them

Thinking how lucky they are not to have to mix with riffraff

***

Puttering along in their imaginary fantasy they huddle together

Talking of how they hope to find the perfect place to drop anchor

A world where they will be alone with gated communities

Yet still in control of what goes on beyond those iron gates

***

After all it would be unthinkable to mix with the likes of them

***

But as the loud clammer and strife goes on below

They find there is really no utopian place to go

For starship fantasies and lead-moon-balloons can only sail so far

And clammer and strife will emerge wherever they are…

***

So, they slowly descend into reality’s chaos

Knowing they can’t get far on lead-moon-balloons

And starship fantasies

***

Today at d’Verse, Lillian asked us to choose from four abstract art pieces by Catrin Welz-Stein and write an ekphrastic poem from inspiration we get from studying it. 

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