My Blood Runs Red…


Today I stopped to visit a big red Farmall M sitting along the road. It brings back so many memories of driving one in the summer during my teen years many years ago. I thought I would share some photos and memories with you.

My blood runs Farmall red

Filling my mind with memories

of days gone by so long ago

Back when fields were plowed

With three bottom plows

Turning over thick rich soil

Farmall red is a color full of life

Of roaring engines full of power

Days on the farm combining wheat

Shoveling it into the granary bins

Of lumbering Holstein cows

Coming down the lane udders full

Ready to be milked morning and night

Barn filled with the smell of hay

Silos filled with chopped corn fermenting

Big red Farmall tractors helping it happen

Yes, my memories run red… Farmall Red.

Click on the thumbnails to enlarge:

Posting for d’Verse open link night.

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For more great farm stories check out my book Farm Stories on Amazon Kindle. You can read it free if you have Kindle Unlimited.

You Know it has to be Good!

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This recipe is tried and true

Favorite of mine just for you

 Sausage and pineapple

in beef broth stew

Onions and green peppers

And celery too

A little black pepper

and some garlic for you

Spooned over rice

too be good to be true


Photo: Dwight L. Roth


Posting for Punam’s pepper prompt at d’Verse. A 44 word Quadrille. This is a favorite recipe of mine that is delicious. It is best served with All-Bran Muffins fresh out of the oven.

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Cataracts or Cubist Vision

Portrait of Eivind Eckbo painted in 1914

“Portrait of Eivind Eckbo” painted in 1914: Thorvald Hellesen

When I was very young seventy years ago, my grandmother was suffering from blurred vision from cataracts. She was not able to get surgery to get them replaced like I was and spent her final years unable to see clearly. It is amazing how far medical surgery has come.

Grandma’s eyes grew dim

Figures blend like cubist art

 Winter of her life


So much we take for granted

in our self-centered lives

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Grandma with my oldest brother

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Lillian asked us to choose one of five paintings by Norwegian painter, Thorvald Hellesen, and write a poem in any form that inspires us.

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Does the Songbird Still Sing?

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“The Gujarati poet Parul Khakhar was reprimanded for her poem referencing Covid 19 and bodies in the Ganges – ‘Shavvahini Ganga’ (Ganges the Carrier of Corpses) – read this article “Flogged, imprisoned, murdered: today, being a poet is a dangerous job’ by Tishani Doshi for more detail. Her subsequent poem is entitled “You Are Not To Speak” a witty riposte in my view.”

Paul, guest host at d’Verse today, asked us to remember the poets who have and are now persecuted and caged away for their views and words. Words of political nature carry weight and have influence. Those who speak and write them are often censored by the authorities who are supposed to be working for justice and human rights. My poem today is a reflection of my thoughts after reading the article mentioned above.


Does the songbird still sing behind walls of stone

While with windows caged, they are left all alone


Hidden away by forces dark and sinister

Does the songbird’s words still ring along the banister


The songbird’s voice melodic and sweet

Cuts through to the heart of Power’s seat


For some, they hear a nightingale singing

While dark hearts hear only raucous ringing


The songbird does sing behind walls of stone

For a mind that’s free is never alone


And though no one hears her caged voice singing

The words she writes will go on ringing


From every stone steeple and podium high

Those words will resound, they will not die


Photo of the Fortress at Koblentz: Dwight L. Roth

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Illusions of a Past Life

the-forest-library-1 Erik Johansson

Lost in a time warp

Shelves of books with words in them

Inside or Outside?


Ancient ‘modern’ writings wait

Light of truth still shines brightly

Painting by Erik Johansson

Today at d’Verse, Mish introduced us to the surrealistic paintings of Erik Johansson and asked us to choose one that resonated with us and write a poem. I loved this one, due to its optical illusion quality, when stared at for a period of time.

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Going Green

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Wind Turbines line up across the landscape

catching convection currents

in places where wind seems to blow endlessly.

Electricity flows with each revolution

powering homes and schools.

A green revolution is spreading across our country;

but, will it power that jet in the sky?

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Posting for Kim’s d’Verse Quadrille prompt using the word revolution.

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No Excuse for Hate


No excuse for hate

It’s not a political tool

Remember lives lived

Lift them high // show their faces

Erase haters from our view


No excuse for hate

Turn off the talking heads

Remember lives well lived

Their joy // happiness // and love

Hater’s don’t deserve mention


No excuse for hate

Guard the dignity of those

Whose lives were cut short

Let their lights forever shine

As we overcome hate with love

Every week it seems there is another hater out there who decides to shoot people. We never seem to find the motive for their decisions, because most are killed or take their own lives. Their actions are usually planed out and calculated. It seems we finally have learned that we don’t need to see the killer’s face on every news broadcast, but rather show the faces of the victims. We must learn that divisive rhetoric and hate messages only propagate this kind of behavior.

Today at d’Verse, Sanaa asked us to write a poem in which each last line of the stanzas delivers a message that can stand alone or as a group. I revised this one from 2018 and sadly the message is still the same in 2023.

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Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Dig a Little Deeper

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When the honeymoon is over, and things have settled down

And the exhale that follows leaves you fully unwound

Dig a little deeper… create another round.


She’s pregnant with one and then there are two

And there’s no sleep at night and more work to do

Dig a little deeper… do your share too.


There are diapers to change and babies to feed

No time for you, life spins at warp speed

Dig a little deeper… let her know she’s the one you need.


When the kids have grown, and activities never stop

Enjoy those moments, help them come out on top

Dig a little deeper… cheer them on, enjoy their shouts.


When the empty nest is now your own

And all of your sweet children have long since flown

Dig a little deeper… as life moves on.


Time to rediscover who you are now

Relight the flame of love for a while

Dig deeper… find out who she is now


As the years move on and our bodies taunt us

with aches and pains and demanding sorrows

Dig deeper… find out who you are.


Life changes us whether we like it or not

Good memories of life and lessons to be taught

Dig deeper… reflect… and share them now …


Though they won’t be heard…

‘til we’ve been gone for awhile.


Photo: Dwight L. Roth 

Posting for d’Verse open link night… 

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Places and Spaces

Going back home…

“For me this journey was like going in the depths of my heart’s womb, like looking in the mirror of life, looking at oneself through so many eyes that have known me but inside them they are changing, like I am changing in me and none, no one can even say or do anything about it.”

~ Narayan Kaudinya – East Indian Endologist – The Road to Nara

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My visit back home a few years ago was a clash

between past nostalgia and present reality.


The house where I was born so full of memories

Now overgrown with bushes and run down;

Reality bites as I take in the view…

Perhaps that is why we tend to remember the good

and let the bad things that happened to us

sift through the hands of time and fade into oblivian.


The church where I listened to my father preach

still looks much the same, as does the cementery

extending up the hill behind, which now holds

many of my friends and neighbors from childhood.


There are a few people still around, just as old as me,

who remember the good times and talk of days gone by.

People such as Mary Ann who turned ninety this week

and was lovingly celebrated at a church dinner

that my two brothers drove many hours to attend.


It was a grand time of appreciation and love

the kind that should be given while one is still alive

instead of kind sentiments when we have passed

and never get to hear what is spoken.


Sometimes I wonder why we go back

knowing it’s not the same, yet feeling the yearning

to once again relive a good moment or feel the love

of friendships long past.


Places and spaces do hold meaning long after they

have changed or disappeared, and we desperately

cling to their memory so we can feel that at least,

that part of us hasn’t yet died or faded away.


Photos: Dwight L. Roth and Phil Roth

Today at d’Verse, Ingrid asked to think about Places and Spaces that were special in our life and write a poem about them. I did a train of consciousness poem reflecting on my childhood home where I was born.

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