Morning Wake-up Call on the Farm

“Dwight      time to get up”

Five forty-five comes early

When cows must be milked

Just five more minutes…

Cowbells tinkle down the lane

Must get to the barn

Cows find their own stall

We hug their necks to chain them

Now it’s milking time

Milkers pump     milk flows

Pipeline to bulk storage tank

White gold for farmers

Twenty-six cows fed

and milked      time for our breakfast

Fried eggs      (fried) cornmeal mush

Same routine each day

Morning and evening chores done

Sleep comes easily

***

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Frank Tassone asked us to write a poem using haiku in sequence.  I decided to do a snippet of farm life. When I turned thirteen, it started working summers on my Uncle Fred’s farm in central Pennsylvania.  He had a dairy farm with around 26 cows that had to be milked morning and evening every day,  three hundred and sixty five days a year!  Morning always came too soon for me. My Aunt Dorothy would call up the stair steps and tell me it was time to get up. This is my poem about getting up and getting to the barn each morning.  Some of my best memories come from working there.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

Then What? (Political Satire)

When distasteful statues of heritage are gone

and the founding fathers permanently buried

and our country’s history erased // then what?

When the constitution is rewritten

and modified and amendments deleted

in the name of progress // then what?

When the drive of capitalism is sedated

and wealth redistributed to those who have never worked

and banks replaced by government 666 chips // then what?

When everyone is forced into political correctness

and all the “I’m sorry people” are reconditioned

to all think alike // then what?

When “swords are beaten into plowshares”

and all the guns are recycled to a few

who keep the disgruntled in line // then what?

When religions are squelched for deviant thinking

and non compliance revives the “burning at the stake”

and “God is Dead” // then what?

When anarchy and revolution turns into an Orwellian nightmare

and Big Brother/Sister monitors and controls everything we do

and creativity and culture become acts of treason // then what?

2024 is not that far away!

**************

As I watch the conflict and clashes between protesters/rioter and Police and National Guardsmen in Portland and across the country, it makes me wonder whether they have thought beyond their present anger, the destruction of Government Buildings, De-funding the Police, Black Lives Matter, and anarchy. 

I have compiled some outrageous questions, all containing some truth, for them and us to think about!

**********

My Friend Ivor Stevens said it best in his Haiku:

Cold steel’s not power

Love can’t be an iron fist

Hand in hand we breathe

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2020/07/27/a-collection-of-ponds-turns-into-a-lake/

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Coming up for Air

We have now been living in our own little world for the past four months. I feel like this turtle swimming around in the shadows of the pond; which works well for a while, but eventually I need to come up for air.

Swimming in shadows

Immersed in our little world

Must come up for air

Turtle Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Seasons

Can one change the seasons or rush them into being

Make the Earth move faster in its revolution around the Sun

They all move in their designated times and spacings

*

Try as we may we cannot rush nature’s happenings

When we realize we too are part of that natural cycle

Perhaps we can relax and enjoy life happenings

*

We live in a world of beck and call // demanding

Results in minutes and hours // not months and days

Entitled souls // we believe we’re deserving

*

Nature has stopped us in our tracks

Showed us who really sets the course of our lives

And leaves us lying flat on our backs

*

As the world turns and the seasons change

Earth will be here long after we are gone

Reclaiming itself // and only our fossils will remain

 

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

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

J

”

Red Moon Rising

     Tears flowed like a downpour on a hot summer day. All around, Jennifer could see the wives of the miners in Swift Creek Mine. Earlier that morning, an explosion trapped eight men in the far end of the shaft. Three of Jennifer’s friends were among the women anxiously awaiting their fate.

     The siren on top of the tipple sent shrill chills through the little coal patch. At times like this, the whole neighborhood rushed to the mine for word of who the trapped miners might be. Those whose husbands were safe, stayed to give comfort and support.

A red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills of the Monongahela. Jennifer could only wonder when it would be her time to weep; having a husband and son who worked there.

     Everyone went silent… as the men were carried out… one by one!

Painting of Coke Ovens and Mine: Dwight L. Roth

Prosery today at d’Verse: Lillian gave us the challenge to write a flash fiction of exactly 144 words that includes a given line from Carl Sandburg’s poem, Jazzy Fantasia . The line I included was A red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills…  This story comes from memories of my childhood in Southwestern Pennsylvania.  Many lives were lost in the coal mining industry that supported our steel mills in Pittsburgh at the time.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

Finding Common Ground

The death of Congressman John Lewis, bring a reflection of the intense turmoil  he lived through during the Civil Rights era. The struggle for respect and equality still goes on sixty years later.  As I look at the division that still remains, I realize it will not be resolved  without God’s love changing our hearts allowing us to live together in peace.

Some views are shotguns blasting away

Others sling shots pelting against the gate.

Let’s have a conversation they say…

Come together // find common ground

Solve our differences together.

*

How does that happen with shotgun politics

and sling shot twitter, that couldn’t hit a brick wall.

When our view is the only right view,

Each conversation become one of persuasion or condemnation…

A ticket to ride our train non stop to our destination.

*

Legislated change without heart change, brings little hope.

History keeps repeating with every rotation.

Change comes with give and take // listening and hearing

Appreciating uniqueness // instead of condemning it.

*

Only a revolution of the heart will bring peace from division.

Perhaps, “love your neighbor as yourself”

are words that could make our world a better place…

Opening the door to finding common ground…

Bringing the “Hope and Change” we really need.

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Here is a favorite song from the Folk era by the Youngbloods called Let’s Get Together

Perhaps what is missing in this generation is the truth in Folk Music… Music that brought people together!

Superhero Comic Book

My granddaughter Molly has written a comic book about the experiences living with her new brother, who was adopted from Korea.  She lives out her fantasies and struggles on the pages of her book, hoping that sharing her struggles will help other children who have adopted siblings.  She is creating this for her Girl Scout Gold Award Project. Today, her little brother turns ten years old.

As you can, see I am very proud of both of my grandchildren, and hope you will take time to view it on Amazon.com.  Click above to view. If you have Kindle, you can read it for free!

Superheroes

Come in all sizes

We love them both

Check out her web site:  https://www.weadoptedasuperhero.com/?fbclid=IwAR0IE3LC-Ljt3qfBwNHOfzuaiHxCY-P8VKjdvq_Pp4xdCpf1QPg8p9U9d-s

Woodland Symphony

Music pours out from shadow and tree

Calling us all to enjoy a reprieve

A melodious symphony straight from the heart

Each tiny instrument playing its part

Miniature voices in perfect pitch

Unwritten scores of notes that are rich

Filled with a beauty beyond man or pen

A symphony of music that will never end

*

Mocking birds solo sopranos and basses

Finding their notes in so many spaces

Piccolo warblers and wren solos start

Antiphonal melodies straight from the heart

*

The bassoon bull frog comes in now and then

Cicadas’ strings play background blends

Crickets and blue jays fill the air

The snare of the trees adds depth to the pair

Woodpeckers drumming on old hollow trees

A staccato rhythm that floats on the breeze

*

Suddenly right out of the blue

The feline conductor brings all in on cue

With a growing crescendo from blue jay and friend

Celloed instruments calling, “This is the end!”

The squirrel plays percussion with his raspy scolding

As the woods fills with music the finale’s unfolding

*

A thunderous applause from the balcony on high

Brings all to their feet flashes crossing the sky

The concert is over the conductor’s gone home

Performers take bows the music is gone

*

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

This is a painting and poem are from a few years ago.  I wrote this as I sat under the trees listening to all that was going on above me. I love the idea of the birds and animals creating an orchestral piece brought on by the neighbors cat!

Soaring

Wings spread wide apart

Soaring high on summer wind

Viewing the menu

***

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

 

Almost Heaven

An interesting phenomenon occurred this week, when a huge cloud of dust from the Sahara Desert in Africa was carried across the Atlantic. Some of the dust entered our atmosphere here in the US and is creating wonderful sunsets as the light reflects off the dust particles. This gorgeous photo was taken yesterday, and posted on Facebook by a friend who lives in Lost River West Virginia. It immediately reminded me of John Denver’s song Almost Heaven West Virginia. He graciously allowed me to use it in my post today.

West Virginia shines in all its glory.

Dusty copper sky glows brilliantly

in evening light above shadowed mountains…

outlining ridges with purple hues;

Dripping a spot of gold on the lake below.

                                                          *

“Almost Heaven, West Virginia…” John Denver sang,

dreaming of a place where God paints the sky.

Brushing with broad strokes across a Sahara canvas…

he once again creates beauty and grace from the dust of the earth;

Leaving us all standing in awe and adoration.

Photo: Gary Smucker (c)  – Used by Permission

Listen to his song here: