Christmas Love

Unpacking Christmas a box of loving gifts

Full of sweet memories that bring me a lift

Remembering my students’ love shared with me

Ornaments of beauty to hang on my tree

A shiny brass apple with name and date

A stained glass window made on a plate

Homemade Rudolph made with clothes pins

Cotton ball snowman and angels with wings

So many memories from yesteryear

Much love remembered sweet and clear

Grandchildren come to help each year

Oohing and awwing is what I hear

And I smile remembering back on those days

When love was shown in so many ways

My tree’s not filled with bought decorations

But a tree filled with love from a past generation

And when it’s all over we’ll pack them away

Storing the love for another Christmas day

I treasure the gratitude each one brings today

Feeling the love that will never goes away

This poem was published in the Old Mountain Press poetry and prose anthology, Enjoy the Holidays. If you have an Amazon Kindle subscription, you can read it for free at:

Red

Red is a Farmall Tractor

sitting tall and proud

Yellow sun glistens off

the hood as the engine

below sends blue flame

up the stack / with a crack

For me, it has to be

a red Farmall M

No green John Deere will do

An orange Allis Chalmers

just makes me spew

Red takes me back

to days gone by

Riding high on that seat

Feeling the sun on my head

and all that power beneath me

Photos; Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse we are trying a new form of poetry. Synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon in which stimulation of one sense leads to automatic, involuntary experiences of a second one.   There are over 80 types of synesthesia described by science.   Nearly every combination of sensory experiences or cognitive concepts is possible.

Seeing music as colors is one form of synesthesia. Perceiving letters as personalities is another one,  or seeing numbers in color. Even hearing colors or touching smells. Today I am writing as Red being the color of vintage Farmall tractors that I drove in my teen years on the farm.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Then click on the Mr. Linkey box and read more poems.

Streetcar

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.

Streetcar comes clanging

Riding rails of yesteryear

Past my old High School

Students and teachers rode by

Old gentleman stops to watch

***

Photo Source: Ed West

Canadian Rockies

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.

Trips hold memories

Canadian Rockies’ beauty

Always in our mind

Maligne Lake

Walls Closing In

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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

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Silly is as Silly does…

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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!

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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!!

 

I See You in There!

 

Laras knot hole eye

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.

Smiling eye peaking

through the knot-hole in our tree

“Come out! It’s springtime!”

***

The air is fresh // sky is blue

We miss your hugs Grandma

*****

Photo: Lara Z. Condon

Loosing Our Appeal

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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.

******

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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.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Diamonds or Thorns

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
remembered…
What are you gathering from the ashes?
Are you passing on diamonds or thorns?

Bing photos:  diamonds – thespruce.com   thorns – gospel coalition

Posting this on d’Verse Poets Pub open link night.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com