First Grade Impressions

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Teachers thrive on order…
When I was young on my first day of school
One little boy cried tears to fill a pool
The classroom was a scary place that day
Marching in line // no time to poke or play
Our small wooden desks were in long straight lines
Like staunch rigid backbones of long straight spines
Evenly spaced with seats that folded down
Waiting for life where none was to be found
Not a soul whispered //no one made a sound
We all sat stiff and rigid as the teacher made her rounds
Every child’s little heart was now beating fast
I wondered in my mind if this would last
Turns out I’m not made for rigid rows of desks
nor for all those difficult tests
I seem to have one foot outside the box
With a mind running free to write my thoughts

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse we are looking at the word order and applying it to poetry. Lara asked us to write a poem that reflects how we feel about order.  I have never been one to stay inside the lines so order for me has always been difficult as you see in my poem above. You can see First Grade in school made quite an impression on me!

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Humpty-Dumpty

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Interesting how our gods all fall to pieces
when crisis comes knocking at our door.
Life in disarray lies before us
with no way of putting it back together again.
Looking into the eyes of hopelessness
shocks us into reality.
Invincible has no definition in our world;
We all sit on the wall waiting to fall.
Interesting how our gods fall to the floor
When crisis comes knock knocking at our door.

Inspired by a poem I read by Paul Vincent Cannon – Birthed by Silence

Birthed By Silence – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Posting on d’Verse Poets Pub open link night! Frank asked us to put a couplet at the end of our poem. I hope this meets the criterion.

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Happiness and Joy

Ruth;s Tile

In this time of uncertainty we soon find out who we really are as people. Some go into a tail spin and become fearful of every little thing. Others try in vain to stock up hoards of stuff to satisfy their manic tendencies. Some believe God is in control and all will work out in time for our good.  For many, happiness is gone; replaced with anxiety. I am sure we all experience some of these tendencies. How we approach a crisis is much the same as we approach our every day life. Happiness is like the weather; sunny one day and raining the next. Joy goes to the core of our being and sustains us through the bad weather that will come in our lives. Remember what is important in life.

Happiness and Joy
Happiness is a little bird
Perched on the rail
Right within my grasp
Only to fly away
The moment
I reach out to take hold of it.
Joy is the blood
Pumping through my veins
A constant rhythm of rejuvenation
Not something to be possessed
Rather something to be
Joy is what keeps my soul alive

 

I posted this back in December, but feel it might be helpful to post it again.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Coronavirus

Whether panic is needed seems to depend on those who seed it …

~Na’ama Yehuda

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Who you gonna call
When there’s no number given?
All in a panic, listening to the news;
We, who are used to a very quick fix;
A pill to cure all our ills.
Fear causes quite a stir
When there’s no one to call.

This evening at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to write a Quidrille of exactly 44 words using the word stir.  With the Coronavirus causing a major world wide stir, I thought I would write about our reaction to it.

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Bing Photo: World Health Organization

Lost (Flash Fiction)

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Lost
Dwight L. Roth

I was lost…totally lost in the pitch-black darkness. I climbed this ridge several times in the daylight, following the winding trail all the way to the top where we had set up camp. Now I was stumbling; tripping over rocks and branches as I wander off the trail. Why did I forget to bring my flashlight?
Talk of a mountain lion in the daylight brought no fear, but now, in the pitch dark, the reality presented itself with every distant rustle of the leaves and breaking of a branch. I pressed on climbing upward, feeling my way through the saplings, mountain laurel, and dead tree limbs. “The top can’t be too much farther.”
Suddenly. there is that unmistakable wine of a big cat; off in the distance, yet too close for comfort. Chills run up my spine, when far away an interrupted cry… silence!

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Bjorn at d’Verse introduced us to our new form to work with…Flash Fiction. He asked that it not be more than 144 words. It could be exactly 144 words as well. Mine is 144 words. We must use the given line from a poem somewhere in the story. Today it was “when far away an interrupted cry…”

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The Phoenix Rises

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Another senseless shooting here at UNC Charlotte this week left families devastated. The student who tackled the gunman gave his life to save his classmates. The whole community is in mourning over the incident. Many turned out along the highway today as the young man was brought back to his hometown of Waynesville.

Rising from the ashes
the phoenix returns.
Bringing hope and strength
to all who hear
the tale of rejuvenation.
In this time of violence
destruction and mayhem,
personal devastation and loss
may seem to much to bear.
But, like the phoenix
life will return
And from the ashes
good will come.

**********

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Open link night at d’Verse. Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

 

 

Out in the Cold

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What do birds do on frigid winter nights?
Huddling cold together they shiver and shake;
Snow falling //a million different shapes;
Layers fields with diamonds// all catching light.

When winds howl, I’m snug // asleep in my bed
Birds have no blankets // no warm comfy house
Out in the cold sleeping under pine boughs
No place of protection to lay their heads

We can’t house all the birds in warm delight.
The same true with people, which makes me sad;
Many live in fear // no beds to be had;
While the rest of us live // sleep well at night.

In spite of the cold most birds do survive;
Third world people struggle to stay alive.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today is open link night at d’Verse and Grace reminded us of the loss of a great poet, Mary Oliver, who loved writing poems about her experience in nature. I decided to write this sonnet as a tribute to her love of nature and the questions she might ask.

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Lullaby

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Being adopted must be a traumatic experience for a little boy who started the first year of his life with a foster parent. This was the experience of my grandson. He was adopted into a family who spoke a different language, ate different food, and had other children. You can understand why he did not want his new parents to leave him at night. I wrote this as a lullaby that expresses some of the feelings that I imagined occurred during this time. He has since grown into a well adjusted little boy.

Sweet Baby Boy
Sweet baby boy just close your eyes
Go off to dreamland with a sigh
Sweet baby boy fly away
To worlds unknown beyond the eye
*
Sweet baby boy come to me now
With all your tears a crying
Sweet baby boy I’ll ease your fears
And soon you’ll be a sighin’
*
And when you wake I’ll be right here
Near you I’ll be lyin’
To keep you safe and let you know
This is your home where I am
*
Through tears and fears throughout the years
I’ll always be your Mother
And though you might not understand
There’ll never be another

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Painting by Dwight L. Roth

Jilly at d’Verse asked us to use repetition in our poetry today to bring emphasis to the poem. Sweet Baby Boy came to mind when I read this prompt. It is a song I wrote as a lullaby for my adopted grandson when he was adopted several years ago.

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Safe Harbor

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The thought of harboring our children in safe places came to mind, when Lillian at d’verse asked us to write a Quadrille of 44 words using the word harbor. It brought to mind two of my favorite songs: Teach Your Children Well  and Cat’s in the Cradle. With all the violence and mayhem going on around us, children no longer can feel safe, even while at school. Home should be that safe haven where our children need not fear and were loving relationships are the primary goal.

Harbor children well

In safe places // from the gale

Shower them with love’s rain

Watch them grow // unfurl their sail

Ships built strong // with loving care

Ready to face swells

Life’s hurricanes // and wind’s wails

Anchored by our care…

Harbor children’s souls with Love

 

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iPhone Photos: Dwight L. Roth

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