Painting of Old Ship’s Bones at Nags Head, NC – Dwight L. Roth
As I was reading through the poems from color perspective for our d’Verse prompt, I came to Paul V. Cannon’s post on Black. It occurred to me that without black all the other colors run together. So this poem developed out of that idea.
During this time of Covid-19, I have had my down times just like many of you. But, what I find helps more than anything else is to create purpose in my life. Being isolated gives me much time for creativity. It lifts my spirit and brings me joy. This past year I have self-published a hundred page book of poems I have written for my daily blog on Word Press. I also wrote and illustrated a children’s book about Rocky the Owl, and passed it out to friends who have little ones. Now that the days are warmer, I have been painting again. There is not time to sit and wait for the grim reaper. There are things to do that take my mind of the sand in the hour glass!
The sand in the hour glass runs faster at the end
I feel it shifting and settling into that narrow space
People for centuries tried to flip the glass to no avail
In the span of time and antiquity
our few minutes goes quickly
So make them count // those last few grains
settling into the final drop // becoming sand once more
Tell your stories // write your poems // sing your songs
Fill your days with creativity // joy // and wonder
For the sand in the hour glass runs faster at the end
This is a painting I finished last week of the City View Dairy Farms in the community where I grew up in Pennsylvania. I posted it on the community Facebook page where it was appreciated with hundreds of likes and comments and memories from people who no longer live there, but have great memories of getting milk there. It gave me great joy to see so many find it meaningful.
I wrote this a few years ago for the d’Verse Poets Pub. I thought it would be good to reflect on as we exit 2020 and enter 2021. We have lost a multitude of people this year to Covid-19. Death has a way of bringing things into focus. It brings us face to face with our own mortality. The thoughts in this poem reflect on spirit within each of us.
Where dwells the spirit before life begins
Waiting to entwine with genes at man’s whims
Does it float in space riding red stardust
Or in ocean waves where the raindrops swim
Where dwells the spirit when I took my first
Breath of life // of heart and lungs merged thirst
Today I am sharing a poem from a dear friend, Ike Glick, who lives in Edmonton, Alberta. He sent this poem with his Christmas Letter, and I thought it was very creative and well written. The word Sophia is a feminine name which means wisdom. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
The Tree of Life
The essence of Being
Even before creation, “I Am”
“On the heights” for life perspective
“Along the way” in unexpected places
Confronting, “On the path I take my stand”
I may be found outside the gates of power
I am ubiquitous
I am available
I am optional
Most free are they who choose my ways
“Those who find me find Life.”
As they follow the star . . . *
Echoes of Prov.8, Mt.2, Luke.2 Isaac Glick 12/2020
Coming, going, the waterbirds don’t leave a trace ~ Dogen
Time pounds our lives like the ocean pounds the shore.
Do you not know how short and fragile life can be?
Some think wealth or power will produce a lasting legacy.
When all becomes bones and dust and empty coffins pilfered.
Strive to live the legacy you desire, not bound by time or life’s travail.
Such a life carries on generation to generation, spirit to spirit
Like grains of sand glistening on the beach, brought back again and again.
That lasting legacy is Love..
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Linda asked us to write a spiritual/mystical poem using a line from a list of several she gave us. She said we could also use the line as a Epigraph at the beginning of the poem. I chose the line written by Dogen for my Epigraph.
Summer temperatures in the 90s F have kept us inside. Covid-19 all around us has taken the lives of thousands. Being in the high risk age group it does make me wonder how all this will play out. So far we have been in good health, but we realize that could change rather quickly. We go on with our life taking precautions, wearing masks, and using common sense.
If I should find this my last day Looking back on my work and play Life is the place where joy and sorrow meet A roller coaster ride of ups and downs.
Struggles, pain, and joys abound
Making me stronger // standing my ground;
Becoming the man who bears my name.
The image of my creator reflected in my face;
Not perfect // but full of love and amazing grace…
A shadow of the divine embracing a much better place.
Life goes on be it here or there…
In our children // in their children
His face is everywhere;
Reflections of love immeasurable power…
Strength for today and hope for each hour
Passing on down through the thread of life
So fragile // so dear // so full of strife
If this were to be my last day,
With sorrow’s leaving I would surely say,
“I’m not gone I’m here to stay!”
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, we were asked to write a poem written with the first person “I am” included in it. This is a poem about ourselves. This poem looks a life from my aging perspective, realizing that even though I may pass on, my life goes on. We are created in the image of our creator and that is in our DNA. It gets passed on from me to my children and grandchildren. So in that perspective life goes on.