Your Roots

Beneath every tree are roots

Holding… interlocking… feeding

Bringing strength foundation

Roots the source of all beauty we see

looking at a tree

You’ve heard, “Behind every successful man

is a good woman.”

My mother was that good woman

holding interlocking our family

feeding… caring for each one.

My father was a pillar of the community

on strength and nourishment

of my mom who was always there for him.

An unsung hero

she was the roots of our tree.

Without her none of us would be

standing as we are today.

My Father and Mother on their 40th

My father died at age 70. My mom lived to be 93!

Photos; Dwight L. Roth

Mother

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Sweet bluebird // a magical beauty
Perched on the rod outside my window.
Tiny sharp talons gripped tightly.
Seeing her reflection on the surface;
She flung herself at the image;
Thinking it to be another female.
This is her territory…
Guarded fiercely at all cost!

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Linda asked us to write a Quadrille of 44 words, using a form of the word magic.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Fuzzy Duckies

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A few years ago we visited my wife’s parents in Edmonton, Alberta. At the condo where they lived was a beautiful pond surrounded by a green grassy lawn. It was home to ducks and a Jack Rabbit who loved the fresh green grass. It was wonderful to see a mother duck with her nine little ducklings swimming in the pond.

Spring ducklings swimming

Follow mama round the pond

Jack Rabbit nibbles

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Remembering Mom

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Mom passed away in 2007 at the age of 93. She was one of a kind, caring and compassionate, with a love that went beyond herself to those around her. Her life was spent in service to her family, her husband, and others.  She was strong and enduring, with a will to find meaning and purpose up to the end. She took time to read to us when we were young. Her faith in God went very deep and she shared that with everyone she met. She was a preacher’s wife who worked hard to bring the love of God to others.

Mom // strength of mountains

Caring love brings ebb and flow

Compassion for all

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

First Class

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Forty-nine years ago my wife graduated in the first nursing class of the newly accredited nursing program at EMC. She was one of sixteen to receive a BSN degree. She spent the next forty years dedicating her life to serving others and helping patients heal. Now retired, she is still going strong in spite of some physical limitations.  On this International Women’s Day, I want to salute the strong woman who has been the love of my life for the past fifty years!

Living her dream
Providing a healing touch
Wife, Mom, Grandmother

 

Photo: Daily News Record

A Love Story

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She watched him tanned, tall, and lean
With bib overalls and a head of dark hair
Thinking how handsome he was
How strong and capable a man he had become
He was only sixteen //but gave the appearance of eighteen
His gait was long // intense // full of determination
She loved that about him // the boy/man from across the field
Smart and fun to be around // his smile was full of laughter.
There he was, driving his father’s four milk cows up her lane
To share pasture with twenty-five more
Self-conscious // she picked up her father’s tee shirt
Hanging it on the porch line strung between two posts
Glancing towards the lane she caught his attention
He waved and gave a hearty, “Hi Beatrice! How are you today!”
Tongue tied, she could only reply, “I’m fine!”
And then he was gone // on up the lane and over the hill
It was evident he was special // graduating from high school at sixteen
She // only fourteen // knew she was in love
She would wait for him and follow him to the ends of the earth…
And she did

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My mom when she was in high school

In memory of my mother who lived across the field from my father when they were growing up in the early part of the last century.
Today, Bjorn asked us to look at different perspectives in poetry and write a poem that reflected that for d’Verse. I chose to write from my mother’s perspective when she and my father were both teenagers.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Photos: Audrey Hartzler’s family album

Lullaby

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Being adopted must be a traumatic experience for a little boy who started the first year of his life with a foster parent. This was the experience of my grandson. He was adopted into a family who spoke a different language, ate different food, and had other children. You can understand why he did not want his new parents to leave him at night. I wrote this as a lullaby that expresses some of the feelings that I imagined occurred during this time. He has since grown into a well adjusted little boy.

Sweet Baby Boy
Sweet baby boy just close your eyes
Go off to dreamland with a sigh
Sweet baby boy fly away
To worlds unknown beyond the eye
*
Sweet baby boy come to me now
With all your tears a crying
Sweet baby boy I’ll ease your fears
And soon you’ll be a sighin’
*
And when you wake I’ll be right here
Near you I’ll be lyin’
To keep you safe and let you know
This is your home where I am
*
Through tears and fears throughout the years
I’ll always be your Mother
And though you might not understand
There’ll never be another

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Painting by Dwight L. Roth

Jilly at d’Verse asked us to use repetition in our poetry today to bring emphasis to the poem. Sweet Baby Boy came to mind when I read this prompt. It is a song I wrote as a lullaby for my adopted grandson when he was adopted several years ago.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Flowers for Mother

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Mother

Faith hope and love all in one

Love that never ends

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Spring is coming alive in the Shenandoah Valley. While visiting in Virginia over the weekend I did a walking tour of the neighborhood and took these photos of the gorgeous spring flowers. I thought they would be a fitting expression of Mothers everywhere.

 

 

Gene Pool DNA

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Gene Pool DNA

I can see him smiling in the mirror

I could talk of my blue eyes

From my father

Or his large nose with creases

In the sides // just above the nostril

All passed down to me in lovers mix

Then there are varicose veins

From my mother

Decorating my calves

Like dribbles of icing on a cake

But the best inherited body part of all

Came from both

Father and Mother

I inherited their hearts

Beating as one

A heart for others

Compassion for those in need

Faith to believe that God loves

Every one no matter what

They might have done

A helix of Love exemplified as

“The Word made Flesh”

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today Kim at d’Verse asked us to choose a body part that we have inherited from our parents, and write a poem in the first person about it. I took it a step further and made it a metaphorical body part.

Come join us at d’Verse:  hppt://dversepoets.com

 

Letter to My Adopted Grandson

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Our prompt from Bjorn at d”verse, is to write a letter to someone in poetic form.  I wrote this for my grandson who was adopted when he was a year and a half.  It is written from his new mother’s perspective, and addresses his emotional struggles and insecurities that came with such a transition. It is a lullaby, which I recorded, but could also serve as a letter. He has adjusted and is doing very well.

Sweet Baby Boy

Sweet baby boy just close your eyes

Go off to dreamland with a sigh

Sweet baby boy fly away

To worlds unknown beyond the eye

*

Sweet baby boy come to me now

With all your tears a cryin’

Sweet baby boy I’ll ease your fears

And soon you’ll be a sighin’

*

And when you wake I’ll be right here

Near you I’ll be lyin’

To keep you safe and let you know

This is your home where I am

*

Through tears and fears throughout the years

I’ll always be your Mother

And though you might not understand

There’ll never be another

*************************************************

*For my grandson who was adopted when he was a year and a half old. 

Come join us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub:  https://dversepoets.com/