The God Perspective

“You know,” he mused, “Some folks don’t believe there is a God. They get all tangled up with religion and theological arguments about who is right and who is wrong, and miss the bigger picture.”

Grandpa always did have a unique perspective on life. He was wise beyond his years, but only shared his wisdom if asked.

“Aren’t your afraid of catching Covid and dying,” I asked?

“You know son, there are a lot worse things in living than in dying. Death is knocking on all of our doors!”

“I believe there is a God who is the source of all life, and that my life will continue on long after this old pain-ridden body is gone.”

I thought about what he said, as he continued, ‘We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’.

“God’s Love is eternal!”

***********

Painting By Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Kim is having us do Prosery. This is when we write a prose piece of flash fiction (144 words) that includes a random line form a poem she chooses for us. She gave us this line from the D. H. Lawerence poem, Hummingbird:We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’. I decided to write my piece as a conversation.

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All is Lost

‘Twas with storm and October gale she ripped the sail

Shredded last threads flapping / faceless flag without stripes

Into the gale / fearless calm / face of moon-ash-pale

Fate assured / as many feared the Orca axed rock’s sharp scrape

*

Tsumami waves… his pall bearers strong / buried him deep

neath igneous rocks, casket solid, lasting a thousand years

Pale moon shredding tears / hidden from all in view’s keep

Fate assured / guiding light / riding gears of hopeless fears

*

Now each October 31st she walks / cold quartz beneath her feet

Pale Moon brightly shines / smiles / mist kissing her ashen face

This night her last walk / gang plank of sand / calls from the deep

Assured fate / drawn to his siren song / moon follows her last trace

Waves wash the chalkboard clean….

Spectors walk hand in hand in the full moon’s light….

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Lucy is the guest host and asked us to write a dark ballad. October has many aspects of this ending with Halloween. I am not into murder, blood, or gore, so I wrote my ballad about a salor lost in a storm and his love who cannot take the loss any longer! Hope you enjoy it along with my painting that I entitled “All is Lost”.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Then click the Mr. Linkey box to read some of the other poets poems.

Opinion and Truth

A statue of the blindfolded lady justice in front of the United States Supreme Court building as the sun rises in the distance symbolizing the dawning of a new era. – Getty Image

In today’s divided society, with cameras everywhere, no one wants to wait for the system to do its job. We all have our opinions about what we are fed on the News Media. Some believe everything and others believe none of it. Protests and riots occur immediately when incidents happen. When we are given only half of the truth, we tend to accept it as the whole truth. This divides us even more. When opinion becomes truth we are all in trouble.

Social media

Everyone judge and jury

Public Opinion

Tantrums thrown stores up in flames

Not everyone gets their way

Today at d’Verse, Grace asked us to write a protest poem. She emphasized that words and poetry are powerful tool that can help bring about change in our world. I struggle with all division and misinformation that comes across social media. The tragic deaths of black men and women, as well as police officers, and children killed in crossfire disturbs me greatly. Somehow we need to learn to listen to each other and co-operate together to make everyone’s life better. I have written my poem in the Tanka format!

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Old Musicians

Old musicians die

But their music lives on

Beautiful tributes

To the power they harnessed

That changed the world

Challenged politics

Social Norms

And, brought about revolutions

Music that touches the soul

Reaches all the way to Heaven

And Hell

Yes, old musicians die

But their music is alive and well

Today at d’Verse, it is open link night. Linda, our host talked about her love for the Beatles and the Rolling Stones when she was young. Some musicians that we enjoyed have passed on for various reasons. John Lennon’s music Imagine will last into the next generation and beyond. I loved country music, which lost a number of its iconic singers early in life. I think of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Jim Reeves, who died in their prime. Buddy Holly also left us way too soon. Even so, their music lives on. This poem is a tribute to them.

I painted my old Harmony guitar a few years ago. I found it many years ago at a yard sale, coming apart at the seams. I glued it back together and it works fine. It was one you could have ordered from the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue back in the 1950s. I laid the guitar on the canvas and traced it off full size and then painted it.

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Photo: Ruth Roth

Bunky

Bunky’s Shack – Dwight L. Roth

Bunky died today!

He called me just last week from his Shack on the mountain. Seems, his wife sold the house, left, and had gone to Florida. For him, the Shack was his place to get away from the heat of the summer. She stayed home by herself. Her daughter came up and helped. They liquidated all in just a few weeks.

When I worked for him, we always enjoyed long conversations filled with stories of growing up in Eastern North Carolina. He was strong willed, opinionated, and had done just about everything in his seventy plus years. Now, my friend was calling for a listening ear.

Sadly he shared, “When it was over said and done, it was a time, and there never was enough of it.”

Bunky had slipped on the side of the mountain and hit his head on a rock!

Bunky – Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, we are writing Prosery. This consists of writing a short story, flash fiction or true, exactly 144 words, and incorperating a line of poetry given to us by Lillian. The poetry line is taken from a poem by, “A Time” by Allison Adelle Hedge Coke.

The lines we were given were:

“When it was over said and done

it was a time

and there never was enough of it.”

The story above is a true story from a few years ago, when my good friend died suddenly in an accident at his place in the mountains.

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Fading Fast

Summer temperatures in the 90s F have kept us inside. Covid-19 all around us has taken the lives of thousands. Being in the high risk age group it does make me wonder how all this will play out. So far we have been in good health, but we realize that could change rather quickly. We go on with our life taking precautions, wearing masks, and using common sense.

Dried in summer heat

Many around me dropping

Still showing color

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Winter of my Mind (in this summer of my life)

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I am in the winter of my mind, where shadows creep

and darkness comes early // seeming never to sleep…

closing in and overshadowing my thoughts.

 

Creativity remains with each bright new day

bringing a spot of sunshine from friends far away

of like minded bloggers and a few online friends.

 

I must close off the darkness // of  “hurricane News”

and “tornadoes of fear” // with darkness infused

leaving my mind destroyed by what I hear.

 

I’ll go back to my writing and pretend not to see

the streets in upheaval and the mothers who plea

for children caught in the crossfire // each day, it seems.

 

For truth these days seem more one’s perception

with marching politicians and Covid physicians

and dissent is met with racial accusations.

Photo; Dwight L. Roth

I am sharing this on open link night at d”Verse poets night.  With all that has been going on the past five months, I feel a little stir-crazy at times. Seems a lot of others feel the same way from all chaos I  see happening across the country, on the evening news. It pains me to see children shot, and no one seems to raise a voice or carry a sign for them. Very sad indeed! These are some of my thoughts as I stay in my cocoon!

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I got my inspiration for this poem today, after reading Lynn’s Poem this morning:

window to writer’s world

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

 

Each Day a Gift

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These days, every day is a gift….

but then again, it has always been that way!

The significance of being becomes more significant

the closer one gets to the horizon

Freedom becomes being able to get up every morning

have breakfast and enjoy the day

Rumblings of disease and discord are stealing our rainbows

along with the imaginary pot of gold!

The simple life we longed for is now a never ending experience

leaving us ready // itching to get out an about once more

Death has always been on the horizon for each of us

It is just a part of our life experience at any age

But, until that time let us enjoy the gift of life

For tomorrow things will change…

 

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Inspiration bits for this poem came from a poem by Paul V. Cannon. You can read his poem here:

https://pvcann.com/2020/07/24/just-glad-a-poem-by-paul-vincent-cannon/comment-page-1/#comment-38127

And…

A poem by Christine Bolton… you can read her poem here:

https://poetryforhealing.com/2020/07/23/no-contest/#comment-15789

Red Moon Rising

Coke Ovens on the Mononghela (2)

     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.

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