Dry Spells


Reverse Poetry is something I never heard of before Frank introduced it on d’Verse. It is when you take a set of lines your wrote for a poem and then turn them around and write them all backwards with perhaps with a few minor adjustments. The introductory lines of this poem were barrowed from  a cousin on Facebook. I asked her if I could use them to create a poem. I wrote this yesterday.  When Frank asked us to write a reverse poem,  I realized I could turn it around and make it work. So here is my very first reverse poem.

Dry Spell
“Sometimes, dry periods
may endure
beyond your expectations.
Other times,
it might seem
like the rain will never end.”
The cycle of life
With ups and downs
Times for questioning
Times for success
Times to remember
Times to love
Somewhere in between
Is where living takes place
Living takes place
Somewhere in between
Times to love
Times to remember
Times for questioning
With ups and downs.
The cycle of life…
Like the like rain // never ends.
It might seem
beyond your expectations.
May you endure…
Dry spells last sometimes


Photos from my dry, cracking back yard

Quoted FB lines from cousin Rosalyn and

the Washington Post’s Capitol Weather Gang!

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To Be a Leaf



This poem is a lighthearted look at personifying a leaf. Leaves are as unique as snowflakes. I love the many shapes and sizes growing all around me. Leaves go through their cycle from buds pushing in spring to colorful mature green leaves of summer which change to a rainbow of colors in the fall. When they fall from the trees they provide a blanket of protection for both living and non-living things throughout the winter. Year after year the cycle continues.

To Be a Leaf

Oh… to be a leaf, t’would be a delight

High in a tree on a warm summer’s night

Poking my head out the door

Warm seduction of spring calls me forth

Coming out half dressed in the morning light

A red bathing beauty all shiny and bright

Stretching extending my fingers unfurl

Semi-frosty nights will nip at the curl

Turning green without envy my hands open wide

No jealousy here I’m filled with pride

Ever expanding to the size of a hand

Not to be shaken by woman or man

Blown in the wind by breeze and ‘cane

Hands lifted in praise then baptized by rain

Waving high over lovers’ joy without end

Old folks and children consider me their friend

Enduring the heat of hot summer’s blast

Knowing all to soon it will be past

Blushing with color… yellow, orange, and red

My crowning glory before I land with the dead

Photographed by families, travelers, and friends

A model’s envy we all join hands

Waving our boughs and then were gone

Floating to the earth but I’m not alone

Lying with friends we await our fate

Raked in piles while the children wait

Jumping and squealing they all roll and tumble

All in a pile as big brothers grumble

Bagged and stacked on the curb for recycling

Back to the garden it’s not really frightening

Or perhaps simply falling staying were we lite

Putting roots to bed for the long winter’s night


Photo: Dwight L. Roth