Cry For Our Farmland

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Development encroaches into the countryside
New houses creep onto our farms and fields
Blacktop streets checkerboard rolling hills
Infrastructure circulates underground
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Cry for our farmland // fast disappearing
More mouths to feed // less land to grow crops
Farmland going into extinction
Who’ll grow our food?

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Linda at d’Verse asked us to write a Quadrille of 44 words using the prompt extinction. Some believe Climate Change is going to bring us to the edge of extinction, but I believe it is the population explosion that will be our demise. When all the farm land is gone where will our food come from to feed billions of people?

The land in the photos is across from the development where I live. It has just been rezoned for more than 400 new houses. The field grew up in weeds this summer. This week they began getting ready to put in the infrastructure.

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Barber’s Chair

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Big red barber’s chair
Many heads cut there
Look slick
Little boys’ father
Pays Barber the fare
Scissors click
Blond curls fall in pairs
Heads sheered// none to spare
Ends stick
Barber has a smile
Snipping ends awhile
Coins drop
Teens hair cut in style
One inch long for now
Flat top
Bald men come and smile
Stop to talk and rile
Tobacco plops
When cutting’s all done
Then comes all the fun
Broom sweeps
Door gets locked// kids run
Squeal in warm bright sun
Birds cheep
Barber chair gets spun
Clipper’s silence hum
Coins keep

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse Grace introduced us to a new poetic form called a Lai. It is an old French form of poetry that has a very set pattern of a, a b, a, a, b, a a, b. The a lines must rhyme and the b lines must also rhyme. The rhyme changes with each stanza.

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Sweet Solitude

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What is it about the ocean’s ebb and flow that brings healing to the soul? Is it the sound of the surf rolling in; or the breakers crashing one the sand? The rhythm of the ocean  draws many to seek solitude at waters edge.

As you sit feeling the water tickle your ankles and soft sand squishing between your toes, the cares of the world seem to flow away with the receding tide. The ocean’s mantra soothes the soul and brings rejuvenation and renewed strength.

Ocean works magic
Soul’s sandcastles wash away.
Summer solitude

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today Kim, at dverse, asked us to write a Haibun about solitude.  I chose to write about the healing qualities of solitude that many find at the ocean.

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When I Hear Birds Sing

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I sit amazed that each one knows their tune
Always on pitch they sing from morn till noon.
Perhaps birds love singing only one song;
Unending melody //making her swoon.
But how does a bird hatched out of an egg?
Know what tune to sing on their tiny legs?
And why don’t they try another’s sweet song?
Getting mixed up //and from another begs
I think bird melodies are meant to blend.
Like flutes in a symphony // all join in;
With harmonized beauty they sing their song.
Each plays a part // sweet symphony begins

Today we are experimenting with writing rubaiyats with our d’Verse group. Frank is our host and asked us to write one using the one of the forms suggested.
A single ruba’i is a quatrain, a poem of four lines. If there is a collection of more than one quatrain, it is called a rubaiyat, This is what Edward FitzGerald titled his 1859 translation of Omar Khayyam’s quatrains. The pattern can be AABA or AAAA.
I am using the first pattern in my poem.
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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

January Birds

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Cold weather in January always brings the birds to my feeder. They bring me a lot of joy as I watch them gobbling down the sunflower seeds and millet. The Red Bellied Woodpecker and Mourning Dove share the feeder together. This is nice to see since birds are often very competitive for the food. Perhaps we could learn from them how to get along.

Woodpecker and dove

Share my winter bird feeder

A lesson for all

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Kim at d’Verse asked us to write a Haibun that talks about January and all it brings with it. I love my winter birds so I chose to write this one.

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Clip-Clop Ride

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In my father-in-law’s things, after he died, we found some sketches he had done some years earlier. This Amish buggy was perfectly drawn down to the minute details. Our d’verse prompt today from Bjorn, is to use onomatopoeia  to create a poem. These are words that sound like they are spoken. I decided to use Dad’s Amish buggy to make my poem. The onomatopoeia words are in italics.

Clip Clop Ride

Amish buggy // wheels rattling against pavement

Rolling down the road // slowing down traffic

Thwack of the reins on the horses back

Trotting down the road to town and back

Rolling past fields with mooing cows

And a farmer feeding his pregnant sows

Little girls sitting in back with their brothers

Avoiding tourists with cameras and snapping shutters

Home again past their barn full of hay

And the cackle of chickens as they scratch and play

A unique life style frozen in time

Quite a different choice from yours and mine

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Sketch: Paul White

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Fragile Flower

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This morning I saw my small Hibiscus was blooming, following last evening’s shower. This afternoon our d’Verse challenge was to write a poem incorporating the hidden meaning of a flower of our choice. Naturally I had to use this beautiful image for my poem.

There are several meanings to Hibiscus. One is gentleness and fragility. In Hawaii it is used to give several different meanings. It is woven in leis to welcome visitors to the islands. When a young woman wears a flower in her hair on the left it means she is single and available. If on the right it shows she is spoken for and in a relationship. You can guess what it means if she has one on both sides!

When you came to me
A hibiscus in your hair
Soft and fragile
Left accent calling me to you
What could I do
But be captivated by your smile

Throughout the years
Your fragile beauty remains
Sharing family
Grandchildren
And so much more
Now the hibiscus on your right
Reflects the love we share

The day is drawing to a close
You my sweet hibiscus
Are as beautiful as ever
Wilted edges change nothing
You // my fragile // gentle flower
Will live on forever

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

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Going Home

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“March unleashed a torrent of rainfall

after an abnormally dry winter.”

New Orleans was almost under water

April provided a reprieve

Sunny days // high humidity

Going home seemed like a distant dream

But now // it was happening

The train rolled out of Baton Rouge early

By early-afternoon Atlanta was left behind

As the train snaked North to Charlotte

The redbuds and dogwoods

peppered the woodland as they rolled along

Azeleas were in full bloom in every yard

“Since Atlanta she had looked out the dining car window

with a delight almost Physical.”

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

We were asked by Amaya, at d’Verse to make up a poem by take a quote from two different books and use the first one as the opening line and the second as the closing line. Our job is to fill in the middle to make it work.

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Quote #1 From the first sentence of The Shack

by Wm. Paul Young

Quote #2 From the first sentence of Go Set A Watchman

by Harper Lee

Perfection

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Uniqueness is Perfection
It is not perfection that makes us special
It‘s uniqueness and character
It is not smooth faces that tells the story
The gray and the wrinkles are our glory
It’s the wrinkles of time that show who we are

Years of strain and years of pain
Bring out the character in everyone
Allows us to remember all the fun

Botox and silicone can stretch us tight
Filling up wrinkles and sags
It stretches us tight and we look a fright
When the make-up comes off each night

After years of work, play, and fun
The thing that makes us special
Is not perfection or a smooth complexion
Our uniqueness makes us the exception.

So why worry over what time has wrought
Thinking we can make it better
We create a mask with our aim for perfection
Hiding our uniqueness and losing our perception
That aging person in this vessel of clay
Is a reflection of His work
The unique image God created
In His eyes
We’re unique and highly rated

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Painting Wild Woman in Pearls: Dwight L. Roth

This is one of my favorite poems. It expresses what I believe is lacking in our society today.  Uniqueness always rises to the top. I did not get a good photo of my painting before it was taken away by a friend and neighbor. Both the poem and the painting say and show what I am trying to express in this poem. This being posted on the d’Vers~Poetry Pub for open link Thursday!

Ars Poetica

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Ars Poetica

Paul at d’Verse asked us to consider Ars Poetica, which is where the poet writes a poem about poetry. This Quadrille says what I believe writing poetry is all about. It is one that I posted earlier. I don’t feel I can improve on it so here it is again.

Writing Poetry  (A Quadrille)

My words // chosen carefully…

Like stepping on wet rocks

crossing a stream.

Hoping this one // will sustain me

to the next

I am not interested in a big splash.

Simply making it across

One solid word at a time

Reaching my desired destination.

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

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