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There was a time when things held value, were retained and cherished. As I think of our fast-paced digital world, I wonder what is gained and what is lost.

Once we had hymnbooks that contained a collection of cherished meaningful songs to be sung over and over. Now we continually crank out new songs, flashed up on a screen, before we have learned to appreciate the current ones.

Being a blogger is stimulating and interesting, but the volume of material that flows through the blog leaves me only minutes or seconds to contemplate it before moving on to the next new thing. Will what we write today have any meaning for tomorrow like poets and writers of the past?

The music industry lives for the bottom line and rides success like and eight-minute rodeo ride. Creativity is often put aside for the next successful million selling song, just like the one before.

So again, I ask, what have we gained in our lightning fast virtual, digital world? What do you value and hold dear? What do you put on your virtual shelf to read or listen to over and over? Is anything held in your hands and cherished anymore? Does anything move you or stir your soul? Or are you numb with overload!

Give me a second.”

Hold new meaning in our world

No time for thinking


Painting of some of my favorite things: Dwight L. Roth

Purpose Renewed

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Experience drifts silently through my veins

Inspiration weeps keeping me alive

I visit catacombs of long dead pains

From dark tunnels sweet memories revive


Inspiration seeps pushing me forward

Experience flowing onto my pages

Finding purpose in my journey onward

Drifting memories saved for the ages


From those sealed dark tombs of long hidden pain

Entangled roots unfettered confidence

New life flows silently rising above the shame

Every heartbeat carries experience


Purpose for living drifting silently

Beauty shining in memories revived

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

At d’Verse, Ingrid asked us to feel the footsteps/ heartbeat of iambic pentameter and write a poem in this form.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Poets or Squirrels?

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We poets

are much like Mish’s squirrels

always searching

for a nibble

on a word peanut

chewing the lines

discarding the shells

looking for that delicious

nut of inspiration

which we bury

deep in our word processor

where we will dig it up later

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Mish shared about the squirrels, her neighbor feeds, who love to nibble on their peanuts and bury them in her yard. They are quite a nuisance, getting into her bird feeder stealing her sunflower seeds. She asked us to use the word nibble in our 44-word Quadrille. I decided to compare her squirrels to us poets, always looking for the next morsel of inspiration to nibble on and stash away.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com



Happiness is my muse

along with sadness, loneliness, and despair

Beauty is my muse

found in words, truth, and nature all around

People are my muse

babies, children, old folks, and young

As the old poet once said,

Beauty is truth and truth beauty”

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’ is perhaps the most famous statement John Keats ever wrote. But what do these words mean? They form part of the concluding couplet to his poem ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, perhaps the most famous of his five Odes which he composed in1819.”


Today at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to write about our muse. I could not settle on just one, so I listed them all!

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

My Blood Runs Red

Words…. the poets lifeblood…

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My words bleed red … running over the page
pouring out of the strict and rigid channels
onto flood plains of freedom unrestricted
My words bleed red … staining minds who read them
with lasting impressions embedded like hooks in a song
never forgotten… but rather called up at a moments notice
My words bleed red … life running out of me
so, I draw from your word bank of inspiration
mixing words with words finding my muse once more

Writer’s Block


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With nature as my muse, I rarely have writer’s block. Mine comes from working too hard and being too tired to write. On occasion, I just need a day off. I have been posting almost every day since I started on Word Press back in June of 2016. I do go back and repost some of my poems from previous years; so, my work is not all brand new stuff every day. I also love photography and take photos of everything that interests me. That gives me a library of possibilities to choose from when writing. Sometimes the poem comes first; other times the picture stimulates the poetry.

I open my eyes

Nature’s wonders all around

Rose petal words fall


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Frank Tassone at d’Verse, asked us to discuss how we deal with writer’s block for our Monday Haibun.

A monarch butterfly stopped to feed on my butterfly bush. I snapped away finding so much beauty clears any writer’s block I might have had today.

Join us at: hattps://dversepoets.com


Nature is my Muse

Today at d’Verse, Ingrid asked us to write a poem describing our muse. In the past poets were often inspired by a person who stimulated their imagination and brought life to their poems. My muse is Nature. One thing I enjoy as much as writing is getting a good nature shot. The bees and butterflies, birds and flowers all feed into my poetry in some way. When my mind goes dry, I can always count on my photo files to get my juices flowing.

Inspiration flows

from Nature’s muse to my thoughts

Honey of the mind

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Hollywood Seashore

Like shells

scattered on the beach

many come and go

seeking their fortune…

Many are gathered.

Special ones found.

Others cast away…

washed out by the tide

or buried in the sand…


“All the Gold in California

is in a bank in the middle

of Beverly Hills

in someone else’s name…”

,I saw an interview with Larry Gatlin who wrote this song. He said he was on his way to a meeting and stopped at a traffic light. In the car ahead of him was a station wagon, loaded down with all of the owner’s earthly possessions. The license plate was from Oklahoma. He said it struck him that these poor folks don’t realize that all the gold in California is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills, in someone else’s name. When he got to his meeting he quickly jotted that first line down on a piece of paper. He later wrote this song from that inspiration.

“Don’t let inspiration pass. You many not get it back again.” ~ Dwight L. Roth

Meaning in the Meaningless

Old in age, I am young at heart

Seeing my way through an uncharted maze

I look for light in the winter dark of night

Racing slowly toward the finish line


Days creep by, as redundant weeks roll on

Attempting to find meaning in the meaningless

Believing in that unbelievable Spirit of all Creation

Experiencing grace and comfort in not knowing


In this winter of freezing joints and pushing buds

I defy the waiting cold earth with warm sunshine

I write my simple poems from inspired words unknown

As night closes in, each new day dawns

I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf” – from The Paradox by Paul Dunbar

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Laura asked us to consider writing from the perspective of paradox. She gave us some lines from different poems to choose from for inspiration. I chose the one from Paul Dunbar’s, The Paradox.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com then click Mr. Linkey to read more.