Sticks and Stones

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Sticks and Stones will break my bones
But names will never hurt me
Hogwash
Sticks and Stones will break my bones
And words will hurt me even more
Bones heal
Remembered from time to time
Words leave scars on the soul
Indelible marks
Never erased
Perhaps forgiven

Be careful what you say…

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

My Plowin’ Days are Done

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I saw this old F-20 Farmall tractor today, sitting in a field where it had probably been for the last forty years. There were two tractors and some old farm equipment there as well. It brought back the memory of a poem I wrote a few years ago. I decided to repost it here since it fits very well with this tractor.
My Plowin’ Days are Done
Parked in the weeds no roof for my hood
Plug wires hanging out in the grass there I stood
My plowin’ days are done
Paint’s faded badly and my chains are all rusty
Put aside and replaced with one that’s more trusty
My plowin’ days are done
Air in my tires and my engine still runs
It’s been a long time since I’ve had any fun
I think my plowin’ days are done
When I’m put out to pasture no money in the bank
Joints are rusty and my engine won’t crank
Then I will know my time has come
I believe my plowin’ days are done

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The Farmall F-20 tractor was built by International Harvester from 1932 until 1939 at the Farmall Works, Rock Island, Illinois, USA.  They were replaced by the Farmall H and the Farmall M.

F-20 3

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Live With Passion

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As the cold of winter sets in
Warm your heart at the fires of passion.
Search out people of authenticity
Those who dare to live and bare it all.
Warm your spirit with Words of Life
And music that stirs your soul.
Live the life of your dreams // while you can;
Appreciate the passion of your children.
Stir joy and happiness into the smiles
Of your grandchildren;
For without family, the fires of passion
Tend to go out.

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Thrill of a Lifetime

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Rolling down the mountain I see the sign, “Runaway Truck Ramp.”
I wonder, “What would it feel like driving an eighteen-wheeler;
Losing my brakes half-way down the mountain at seventy mph?
Would I panic or stay focused?
I would guide my rig right into that welcomed sand trail
Carving grooves // sinking in all the way to my axles
Coming to a rumbling halt half-way up.”
“Yes, that would definitely be the thrill of a lifetime!”

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse Frank asked us to write a soliloquy (a literary effect of having a conversation with yourself in a poem).  This is my first attempt at a soliloquy. I hope it is close to being correct!

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Routine

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He sits alone, with his best friend, at the bottom of the steps;
resting from the long descent to the beach.
His dog is as old as he is when divided by seven;
Together they share this walk each day…
Stopping to sit under the giant fir tree.
its crooked trunk leans away from the ocean’s wind;
Providing shade and comfort for many a climber.
His dear old friend patiently waits for his master;
Realizing it will only be a few short years left
For both of them to share this  beautiful spot.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Why Have We Lost Our Marbles

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Whatever happened to little boys (and girls)
Who used to trade and shoot marbles with their thumbs?
Drawing a circle in the sand // taking turns
Seeing who was the best shot…
There was a time when children played outside every day;
Enjoying fresh air // interacting with each other
Building lifelong friendships.
Children today also use their thumbs;
Not to shoot marbles; rather, to type texts
and play video games on a computer.
Isolated in a non-social world of their fantasy;
Their thumbs to click through dark worlds
Of monsters, shooters, aliens, and walking dead…
Collecting points on a screen, instead of marbles in a bag.
And we wonder why kids today go off the deep end!

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

Bearing Fruit

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Like an old tree,  limbs twisted with age, keep on keeping on in that journey of life God has given you. No one knows how many years are left to make a difference in the lives of those around you. As long as the sun warms your branches keep moving forward.

Bear fruit in old age

Your final summers of life

Filled with sweet wisdom

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Her Perspective

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How big the world must look to one so young
With all its overflowing challenges;
A chasm most daunting // stretched and far flung;
It spreads in all directions and ranges.
From your high safe perch on that giant rock,
You might feel secure // a place to call home;
But, you know in the future you will walk
Across that river of life all alone.
How big the world seems sitting on a rock

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

This evening is open link night at d’Verse. Join us at:

https://dversepoets.com

Music Crossroads

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I  really enjoy Ken Burns PBS video series on the History of Country Music. The beauty of it all is reflected in the way music was passed back and forth across the social and racial divides. The influences of all the cultural groups are reflected in the music. Great music speaks to everyone’s soul. It has no boundaries.

Soul melodies flow
Music // blood only runs red
Crossing all bound’ries

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Music // an ever renewable energy source
Costs nothing //earns great sums for some
A soft song or rhythm with a driving force
Music can be loud // or only a small hum

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Can you tell what melody is written on the painting…  Start at the clef and work upward…