Seventy years ago, electric streetcars were an important means of transportation in the community where I was born. A network of tracks ran all over the county. The photo above shows the streetcar passing down the hill in front of my old High School. By the time I went to school there, the Street Cars were a thing of the past. A brand new brick building sat where the corn field is located, just beyond the tracks.
The Canadian Rockies are home to some of the most beautiful places on the earth. Tall snow-capped peaks saw their way through the Alberta blue sky. These photos are pictures my in-laws had on their wall. They held many memories of travel to these destinations with family and friends. Since we lived 2500 miles away, when we went to visit them they loved taking us on camping trips to the mountains. We will always be grateful for these family times.
Walls built with stones and mortar of memories
Locking tightly together each painful reality
Stacking and cementing them tightly in place
Till the soul is hidden without even a trace
Dungeon of doom condemning the soul
Cold place of solitude where no one can dwell
A roof on top to keep out the light
Beautiful on the outside but dark in the heart
Protected and guarded from any more pain
Windows boarded up to keep out the rain
Though years have gone by the walls still close in
Creating a chasm the soul cannot swim
A castle on the hill of life with walls strong and tall
No windows no drawbridge no one comes to call
A lifetime of memories too painful to tell
A soul locked in memories
A real living hell
Silly is as silly does // riding a horse that has no fuzz
Sunglasses all askew // he knew he was Mr. Cool
A three year old’s imagination // carries on through generations
Laughing hilariously at silly stuff // seems we never get enough
Full of grit he rides his steed /// if you’re in his path better take heed
Although it was so long ago // seems like only yesterday you know
Silly is as silly does // these photos fill our hearts with love
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Lillian asked us to be lighthearted and Silly. This is my son from many years ago. You can join us at: https://dversepoets.com Smile!!
One of the things I am doing during this time in seclusion is to go through our old albums and copy the best of them photos with my iPhone. It makes very sharp copies which I then load into my laptop for editing. We probably all have photos in acetate that faded and lost their original color. I found if you use the editing tools in your computer you can turn them into nice sharp black and white photos. This is much better than tossing them!
It just dawned on me that this was supposed to be Quadrille Monday. (only 44 words) My apologies to Lillian for doing a double Quadrille. I got carried away with the prompt and forgot what I was doing!! Must be getting old! I turned another year older today!!
Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a Ponderosa Pine stump and can’t get out? Maybe all this staying at home, for who knows how long, will teach us what bears already know; how to hibernate and sleep through the down times! Hopefully we won’t stay as long as Rip Van Winkle. Even so, by the time we come back out the world will be a different place than the one we remember.
Old country store
with stories to tell;
Closed and locked
just waiting to be torn down.
Lead paint peeling
roof shingles falling off.
What a sad day…
when it disappears from site/sight;
Making way for “progress”…
Like many of us;
Waiting for our time.
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, we are to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words using the prompt peel. I decided to go with paint peeling on an old building.
Why do we write our poems // our stories
Who will care // Who will read our work
We write for ourselves
remembering life as we want it to be
gathering diamonds or thorns from life’s ashes
knowing the story is never the story;
but rather, a perspective of our past
written and shaped to suit how we want
our history // our feelings //our life
What are you gathering from the ashes?
Are you passing on diamonds or thorns?
Sixty years ago, when I was twelve, we loved to go sledding in the moonlight. The bright full moon shone down on us as we sailed down the hill, past the mail boxes, on our sleds. All the neighbor kids joined in for a fun evening in the cold. Those were great times.
Mem’ries of snowfall
Bright Wolf Moon shines down on us
Sliding down the hill
Photo: from our family album
Frank Tassone asked us to write a Haikai poem that alludes to the Wolf Moon in January.
Today I took the ornaments off of my Christmas tree, and packed them back in the box, to store until next year. I enjoyed looking again at each ornament, remembering that many of them came from my former elementary school students. Some I remembered; others had names on them. You may think an ornament is an insignificant gift, but mine have hung on my tree every year since 1970.
Tears of the Moon stream down evaporating in the abyss;
Memories of a blue planet rising and setting echo silently
off the Sea of Tranquility, they are quickly swallowed up
in fiery canyons and portals of a whole new world.
People have been gone for eons,
obliterated when the earth threw a world-wide tantrum
blowing its stacks // spitting fire and ice over everything
ridding itself of the leeches, ticks, and bedbugs known as humans.
Now its a new dimension of colored portals exuding light.
Silence speaks volumes on this Third Rock from the Sun.
The moon still shines, but the echo of voices is lost forever
Tears of the Moon painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Merril asked us to write a poem that includes some form of the world Echo. I decided to turn my painting into a sci-fi piece.