Food for Thought

Wheat pours from the spout

Provides food for all of us

Natures golden grain

Wheat fields make way for houses

Farmers gone // who feeds us then?

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, we are writing a poem on the prompt Wheat. Wheat is essential to life on earth, providing food for millions of people. The wheat field above is adjacent to the development where I live. This past year construction of a new housing development has started on our side of the highway. The county has rezoned the big wheat field across the road for housing as well. Who will feed us when farmers have all sold out to developers! We just assume bread will always be on the grocery shelves.

Join us at: https://dversepoet.com

Just Chillin’

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*Chillin’ is an expression I heard used in Eastern North Carolina which simply means hanging around with nothing to do! I saw a sign on a fence post outside an old country store that read “NO CHILLIN’ ON THIS CORNER” . This little bird sleeping in my feeder today reminded me of that sign.

Chillin’ in the cage

Surrounded by all that food

Just like you and me

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

Summer Colors

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It is wonderful to see all the birds in the summer feathers. Bright colors are in vogue again for this year. Very striking as they flash in the sunshine!

Daily search for food

Hanging on as suet cake spins

Summer colors bright

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Pig Pickin’ Time

EER_0090One of the traditions of Eastern North Carolina is a Pig Pickin’ ! The hog is split in half and laid on the grill in a cooker. The cooker is often made from an old oil storage tank cut in half, on wheels, with a grill welded in one half and the other half hinged for the lid. Charcoal is put in the bottom and chimney vents are welded into the lid. The pig is cooked slowly for about five hours. During that time as special sauce, made from  oil, red pepper, vinegar, a touch of sugar and Tabasco sauce, is brushed over the hog as it cooks.

When the hog is well done, the lid is opened and folks come by with there plate and pick whatever part of the pig they desire. It is usually served with coleslaw, boiled potatoes, green beans, potato salad, corn bread hush puppies,  and followed up with banana puddin’ (made with vanilla pudding.  And of course, there is always plenty of sweet iced tea.

Best Pork Bar-B-Que

Whole-hog siz’zling on the grill

It’s Pig Pickin’ time

***

Nothing much better anywhere!!

Painting : Dwight L. Roth

I made this painting for a man who had a small Bar-B-Que restaurant in Waxhaw, NC. I used to stop by and get a taste of his great bar-b-que.

Below is our church Labor Day Picnic from a few years ago.

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

When It’s My Time

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When it’s my time // let it be a celebration
Not down and sorrowful;
A reminder of all the good things life offered
And the things I chose to accept.
Let it be filled with music and guitars
Singing the old songs that stirred my soul.
Make it a time to remember the good times;
Stories shared that warm the heart.
Celebrate my passing with joy and happiness;
Friends and family coming together as one
Finding strength, joy, and hope.
Let tears mingle with laughter and song;
Knowing that I had a great life
Filled with great family and friends.
As my spirit rises to join the Spirit of God, my creator,
Know that life goes on // both here and there.

*****

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Homemade Bread

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When I was growing up, one of the perks of being a preacher’s kid was that people in the church often gave us things. This helped to supplement what little income my father received. One of my fondest memories was getting a big loaf of homemade bread on a Sunday morning. Bertha McCann and Katy Townsend were two women who made the best bread I ever tasted. One day, when I was ten, I was raving about Katy’s bread. I expressed interest in learning to bake bread like that. She said when I was twelve, she would teach me. I remembered her promise, and when I was twelve, she helped me bake a batch of bread. My bread never quite matched hers, but I was very proud of my accomplishment!

Fresh warm homemade bread
Topped with butter and jelly
My best summer treat

*

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Photo of my first batch of bread: From our family album

Our prompt today at d’Verse is food! One of my favorite food memories is homemade bread.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Killing the Albatross

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One or my favorite poems is The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Anmol (alias HA) , at d’Verse today, asked us write a poem regarding Climate Change. I decided to try something different and write a Quatrain of sorts using the lines from the Coleridge poem  turning it into a Climate Change poem. I had them side by side when I wrote them, but it did not translate when I loaded it into Word Press.

Climate Change… Killing the Albatross
The breeze dropped, as trees were chopped
A very sad day indeed
An now no one ever spoke a word
As we dreamed of a time with trees

The sun rose high in the caustic sky
In the blistering shine we burned
Everyone hid inside their homes
And for cooler times they yearned

Year after year, day after day
The weather never changed
Both hot and cold were caustic
As the planet grew eerily strange

People, people, everywhere,
And all the food did shrink;
People, people, everywhere.
And no water in the sink.

Every tree and plant did rot: O Lord
We never thought this could be!
With creepy crawler things with wings
And termites gnawing on dead trees

**********

Excerpt from: The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner
Down drop the breeze, the sails dropt down,
“Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

Photo of a crowd of people on the street : Dwight L. Roth

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Humming Bird

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Humming birds are beautiful creatures. I am amazed that a tiny little bird like this can survive in our environment. Their eggs are about he size of a pencil eraser. They drink nectar all day long using their long proboscis beak to reach deep into the flowers and my drinking fountain. The speed of their wings is so fast that they can hover in mid air and move at lightning speed. They come to visit me every and I am privileged to be able to watch them. This poem is my tribute to them.

Humming Bird

There you are every morning at my perch

Drinking from my fermented fountain

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Addicted to the sour nectar

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All of your iridescence shimmering in the sunlight

Pausing now and then to look at me

As I make my morning coffee

Movement in the shadows

Not sure what to make of me

The sunlight blinding your view

Making it difficult to see the details

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Yet you come back every day

Finding nourishment and strength

In the liquid of life that sustains you

Hoping to get your fill

Before another drives you away

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Claiming it to be theirs alone

Sort of like my view of God

Moving in the shadows of my life

Providing sustaining strength and hope

Not exactly sure what I am seeing

Everyone thinking they alone have it right

Blinded by the light of Grace

***********************

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Pennsylvania Memories

 

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My birthplace and childhood home will always have a special place in my heart. Growing up in Western Pennsylvania and spending five summers on my uncle’s farm in Central Pennsylvania, has left indelible impressions in my mind. My parent and grandparents, uncles and aunts, all lived and grew up there.  Staying in Virginia after college and later moving to North Carolina has not dampened my appreciation of the state of my birth. This poem tells how I feel about it.

In the corner of the state just north of the Mason Dixon

Along the Monongahela River is a place called Masontown

I was born beside a coal bank

Just a mile outside of town

‘Twas Sunday noon on the fourth of May

Dr. Messmore came knocking out our way

He welcomed me into the world

In that good old fashioned way

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Pappa was a preacher so money was tight

A well-dressed chicken for the doc would suffice.

Pittsburgh not far from home

Only fifty-one miles up route fifty-one

A day trip to the airport was always fun

Watching TWA birds go and come

Pirate baseball cards clicked in my spokes

Alongside Cubs, Yankees, and other folks

High School trips to Kennywood Park

To ride the coaster till it got dark

Over the river and through the woods

We traveled to Grandma’s house

To Beautiful Big Valley only four hours away

On the Fourth of July and every Christmas day

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Uncles, Aunts, and lots of cousins,

Farms tractors, hay fields, and slow Amish buggies

I spent five summers there driving the tractor

Chasing cows, pitching hay, Uncle Fred was quite the actor

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Lancaster County makes me high,

Homemade Bread, Sweet Bologna, and Shoo-fly Pie

Down the Turnpike through tunnels and hills

To Ruth’s Grandma’s house up Blueball hill

Breaking down in the middle of nowhere

A broken crankshaft in my 61 Corvair

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Five hours in Camp Hill… not much fun

Sitting in our car till my dad could come

Eastern Pennsylvania where two brothers reside

Is where my Mom spent her eventide

Each time we’d visit was always great fun

But glad to head south with the setting sun

Down through Baltimore, Washington, and Richmond

I-95 is never a fun run

Too many people too many roads and too many cars

Philadelphia holds no place in my mind

As much as I love my native state

My home’s in Caroline

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Pennsylvania such a beautiful state

With mountains, farms, and rivers

In my heart it’s is near and dear

I will cherish it forever

It is Pennsylvania from where my roots came

Coal dust runs deep in my veins

And although my home’s in Caroline

Memories of Pennsylvania will always make me pine

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