Rust

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There is a lot of history in rust
Experiences hidden away in flecks of iron
A lot like us holding life together
Outwardly flaking away with time’s oxidation
Held together through times of storm
Standing proud in the strength of youth
There is a lot of history in rust
Secrets left untold in deteriorating minds
Lost forever in hurricanes last blow
Just oxidation on the beach

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

Time Slippin’

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As time slips by I find joy in moments
Beauty of yellow wildflowers swaying
Song of bright red Cardinal singing sweetly
The world around me struggles with rebirth
The same weeds come up from long hidden roots
Pulled so plump red tomatoes can grow

This is Quadrille Monday at d’Verse Poets Pub. Linda asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words using the prompt slip. My poem today deals with the passage of time; living one day at a time, and being in the moment of awareness of all that is going on around me.

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The Mirror Never Lies

IMG_6338.JPGAge has a way of drawing us closer to the mirror
Studying the trails of life etched on our face
Reflecting the future // that is yet to come;
Removing the cataracts of denial as changes took place
Demanding we see life for what it is in the clear and bright.
Age calls us to reflection on years gone by
On joys and sorrows that have come and passed us by;
Reflections on things we held near and dear
Of friends and family that brought us cheer
Age has a way of revealing the truth
Of life of death // of faith and the eternal;
Calling us to remember // as we study our face…
Though this may not be the image we’d hoped for;
Shattering the mirror does not alter or erase.
The mirror never lies

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Tick Tock

Regulator

Tick Tock

The pendulum stopped swinging

Several years ago.

But time kept on ticking

With every day that goes.

Though the regulator is not regular

Perhaps a dry cog or wheel…

Years keep moving on in circular

And adding to my bill.

When my ticket comes due

In a year or two…

It won’t matter if tick or tock.

My clock will stop ticking

Hands will stop moving

My face will stay fixed

And I will turn blue

Booo Hooo!!

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Living to be 94

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My father-in-law always said he hoped he could live to be a hundred. He is now 89 and still in fairly good health. The only problem is that a couple of years ago he developed Alzheimer’s and is now confined to a care facility. As I think about him and others I find myself wondering whether growing old is really all that great. If you are one who is in good health perhaps it would be a good thing, but I believe the odds are stacked against that happening.  I have always said I don’t want to live to be real old. This poem expresses some of my sentiments.

Living to be 94

If I live to be 94

What friend would come knocking at my door

Being that they’d all gone before

Or maybe they came and I remember no more

Since those memories seem to go right out the door

Why would I want to be that old

Why would one want to be so bold

To out-live all my friends of old

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And spend my last doing what I’m told

Not a great option for me…

When death comes passing at 84

I just might hitch a ride while I am sure

That growing old appeals no more

When my only friend left is Arthur Itis

The world can surely do without us

Death, come grab me before 94

For I won’t want to be here anymore!

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Photos: Dwight L.