When I am Loved

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Being alone and at the mercy of others must be a very difficult thing. As we were leaving the crafts fair, last weekend, I saw this old man all alone in the doorway down the street. He was playing on a chord organ and had a jar out to collect money from listeners. I sent my grandson over to put something in his jar as we passed by. The thing that caught my eye was his loyal dog lying at his feet as he played his music. I thought how comforting it must be for him to have that connection.

When I am Loved

As long as there is one who loves me

All else becomes secondary

Work struggle pain or poverty

Become tolerable when I am loved

No matter how old I get

Or how I am perceived

I am rich

A dedicated friend who loves me

Is worth more than gold

There is one who loves unconditionally

Attached at the heart by soulful bonds

Would lay down his life for me

A true friend to the end

This is Man’s Best Friend

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Here’s Your Sign

In Historic Staunton, Virginia last weekend, I enjoyed seeing all the unique shop signs hanging above the sidewalk. As we enjoyed the craft fair booths and the people we met, I began shooting some of the signs overhead. I loved the variety of names and the poetic feel to each one! Here are a few that I liked.

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

Can You Hear the Termites Chewing?

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Can You Hear the Termites Chewing

Can you hear the termites chewing

Most people can’t become that still

Few take time to sit or listen

Perhaps only a blind man could

With sharpened acuity and sensitive ears

Hear those tiny critters in the wood

Take a walk in the woods

Sit down on a rotten log and listen

Block out all else but the lumber jacks

Working in dark coal mines of wood

Chewing chewing chewing at this unending log

If you concentrate block out the noise around

And the symphony of creatures auditioning for a spot

Parking their flute or drum in your brain

For your future reference

If you block out everything else to true silence

Perhaps then you can hear the termites chewing

Beneath your seat on the decaying log

As for me it will never happen

Age and excess decibels have taken their toll

The constant ringing that never stops

Covers all the minute sounds silence might bring

Like termites chewing inside a log

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Photo: Ruth A. Roth

Resilience

The photos in this post reveal that survival is dependent on resilience and strength. The desire to survive against all odds, to grow and thrive, to challenge the odds makes both nature and humans unique. Without resilience we would simply whither and die. But with an attitude of resilience we can accomplish great things in life.

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Between a rock and a hard place!

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Develop Deep Roots!

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Cover Past Hurts and Move On!

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Don’t Allow Handicaps Hold You Back!

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Take Life One Step at a Time!

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Celebrate Every Small Achievement!

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Mountain Poetry

We took the scenic route part of the way back from Virginia to North Carolina today. We drove about a hundred miles down the Blue Ride Parkway from Waynesboro to Roanoke. It was wonderful to see the spring foliage at the different elevations. Here are a few photos to enjoy, all poetry in their own right. I will post more at a later date.

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A Tribute to Mom

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One of the things that struck me most, as I read through her diaries after she passed in 2007, is how many times she writes, “I am so tired!”  Back in the 40’s and 50’s there were no air conditioners. Clothes were washed in a ringer washer and hung on a clothes line to dry. Mom always washed clothes on Monday. I can still smell the aroma of Tide and see the clothes squeezing through the ringer into the rinse tubs. When dry, she and my sister Priscilla sprinkled them and ironed them on an ironing board in the kitchen. It was hard work and I am sure Mom was very tired every night when her head hit the pillow!

Thanks Mom, for all your hard work and loving care!

Wash Line Memories

Lines strung across the yard to the apple tree

Electric pole and butternut make three

Held up in the middle with a big long prop

Just a long skinny pole with a nail in the top

Morning dew quickly takes leave

Clothes carried from the basement in a basket of weave

Wooden clothes pins in a bulging bag

Some have heads others squeeze to hold the rags

Shirts and underwear flap pretty as you please

Jeans and sheets hang carefree in the breeze

Neighbors next door see everything you wear

Back then it didn’t matter we didn’t give a care

Towels loose moisture but not their good smell

When you wash with Tide you know all is well

The best part of all are those windblown sheets

Crawling in bed getting tucked in and ready to sleep

There’s no better bed in the entire world

Than one just made with windblown sheets

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Photo:  Mom Pulling me in the Wagon 1948

 

 

The Cry of Haiti

 

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The resilient Human Spirit is very amazing even in the worst of circumstances.  Most of your remember back in 2010 when Haiti was hit by a major 7.0 earthquake. It was a very unsettling situation for whole country, since many of their buildings were substandard and collapsed as a result. The photos of people living in fear and devastation was very heartbreaking. Almost 200,000 people lost their lives. Many people and agencies reached out to help, but much more is needed. I wrote this song for them as I tried to picture myself in their situation. The refrains are a repetitive reflection of the human spirit. I thought you might get a feel of the emotion involved in this tragedy. I don’t have written music, only guitar chords and a recording.

The Cry of Haiti

Though the Earth may shake us

And walls come tumbling down

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

Together we will rise to face another day

To become more than we are now

To become more than we are now

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Though death surrounds us

And tears flow from our eyes

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

Together we will rise to face another day

To become more than we are now

To become more than we are now

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Our stomachs are empty and sky over our heads

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

Together we will rise to face another day

To become more than we are now

To become more than we are now

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With children dying broken in the streets

Our hearts cry out in agony

Our hearts cry out in agony

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

But together we will rise to face another day

To become more than we are now

To become more than we are now

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Where are you God in all this agony

How will you heal my broken soul

How will you heal my broken soul

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

We’re brothers and sisters in our pain

Together we will rise to face another day

To become more than we are now

To become more than we are now

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Words and Music (c) Dwight L. Roth

Bing Photo: http://articles.architectjaved.com/earthquake_resistant_structures/tag/base-isolation/

 

 

Form to Dust

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I watched this week as a controversial statue of a Confederate Civil War Soldier was taken done from a high pedestal. The statue was just a piece of metal, but to some it was a symbol of racism, oppression, and slavery, while others viewed it as a symbol of Southern Heritage. In both cases, the controversy was in the spirit of what it represented.  We hang on to symbols and figures to remind us of those gone before, but the spirit of their life is what we really honor. That spirit continues through the generations to come. It should remind us that both hate and love can be passed on. It is up to us to decide how we will be remembered.

Form to Dust

Why try so hard to give form to dust

It has already been done at our creation

Dust returns to dust and form is gone

Still we cling the image we remember

The one it once was before life left

Even the preacher says form returns

When the time is right in the heavens

All reforming in a twinkling moment of temporary reality

Thinking identity of spirit will be found there

Cremation to me seems the harshest of realities

Dust returns to dust and the form is gone

Is it really dust and form we choose to recall

Or rather the life and spirit that drove it

Form is just a statue on a short lived pedestal

A star in the personal walk of fame

Here today and lost forever in time

Perhaps dug up in eons to come

A bone or two here and there to save

Speculations of life and spirit long gone

One’s life and one’s spirit live on for ever

Cloned spirits in the genes of generations to come

So search for the spirit of which you were born

Live well the life that continues beyond dust and form

We are not meant to be wax figures in a museum of time

We are life and light the breathe of God

His image passed on for generations to come

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Power Yawn

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Power Yawn

Why do you yawn so loud she said

Because it feels so good  I replied

But can’t you do it a little quieter

No it just wouldn’t be the same

The duel output of air and voice

Seems to be the greatest choice

Suddenly this thought

Came through my open door

Now I know why Lions ROAR!!!!

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Photo: Bing Clip-art