Walls Closing In

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

I See You in There!

 

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

Surreal Dreams

The tragic death of basketball star Kobe Bryant, his daughter, along with seven others in a helicopter crash once again reminds all of us that ,”life is but a dream!” It can be taken from us in an instant. It is so sad when lives are taken in their prime. For those left behind it must all seem like a bad dream.

Sudden death brings shock
Like living a dream too surreal
Never forgotten
Their spirit’s always with us
A deep sadness lies within

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

At d’verse Lillian asked to write a poem about dreams. There are many kinds of dreams. I chose to reflect on the events of this week, and the lives lost in California.

Join us at:  https://dversepoets.com

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Bits of Life

Moments // grains of sand
Sifting through the hour glass
Recording a life
Knowing // when the hour glass turns
Recapturing moments gone

 

My painting “Bits of Life”

Honsaker Tombstone

I walk through the cemetery of my childhood
visiting old friend’s stones, long engraved;
unchanged through every season.
Each stone’s name brings back a special memory;
Some much more memorable that others.

“O, there you are my favorite stone of all
You haven’t changed a bit in fifty years
Honsaker tombstone do you remember
How we walked your ledge in the dark
On summer Sunday evenings after church;
And, do you remember when my friend Jimmy
brought a girl to make out in your dark shadow;
What a wonder you are // the largest rock on the hill.”

“You don’t know how confining it is to remain unchanged;
Year after year watching the living and the dead pass by
Oh. how I long for the freedom to move and rise above
like the birds flying overhead.
I remember you and all your friends with great nostalgia;
Your laughter and happiness lifted my spirits.
But now, all that is gone and I sit here // alone // rock solid
Waiting for the end of time.”

I leave them all behind as I walk back to my car
feasting on memories frozen in time.

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Amaya, at d’Verse, asked us to look at the use of apostrophe in poetry. I always thought that an apostrophe was just that little mark you use when writing a contraction. Today, I learned it is much more than that when used in poetry. It becomes a form of personification, injecting and addressing what is not there as though it was a living being. I think I got that right!? I chose a tombstone that I remember very well.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

When It’s My Time

When it’s my time // let it be a celebration
Not down and sorrowful;
A reminder of all the good things life offered
And the things I chose to accept.
Let it be filled with music and guitars
Singing the old songs that stirred my soul.
Make it a time to remember the good times;
Stories shared that warm the heart.
Celebrate my passing with joy and happiness;
Friends and family coming together as one
Finding strength, joy, and hope.
Let tears mingle with laughter and song;
Knowing that I had a great life
Filled with great family and friends.
As my spirit rises to join the Spirit of God, my creator,
Know that life goes on // both here and there.

*****

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

 

Warbirds

Every year in November, the weekend before Veterans Day, the Warbirds fly over our house. Old Fliers and aviation enthusiasts bring their restored vintage planes and put on an air show at our local municipal airport. I snapped these with my iPhone today as they flew by.

Some fly to fight

Veterans fly to remember

November blue skies

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

I Love the Land

You know, I have been around for quite a while

There is nothing much better than living on the land

The smell of fresh turned soil in the springtime

You might wonder why I feel this way…

My family farmed this land before I was born

They worked from morning till night plowing these fields

This team of horses loves to pull the plow for me

We are one in spirit, working together, they’re family

They do whatever I ask of them and enjoy it all

Now, we have Plow Days to remember those times

I believe it is so important to love the land

I will live on it and care for these horses till the day I die

There is nothing like the smell of fresh turned dirt in the springtime

Photo of my good friend Jimmy Dozier of Rocky Mount, North Carolina

Today, at d’Verse,  Bjorn asked us to change the perspective of our poem and write in a way that is different from our normal perspective of writing. I decided to write a conversation poem, from the perspective of my friend Jimmy Dozier, who has sponsored Plow Days on his farm. People come from all around bringing tractors, mules, and horses. I did not use quotation marks since the whole thing is from the perspective of his narrative.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Making a Difference

Her gray hair that once flowed around her shoulders
Now pulled back tightly held with a stretch band;
There she sat in her wheelchair // her gaunt body fading
Wrapped in her shawl // holding her little doll on her lap.
As I read stories to the group of elderly residents
She sat with her head down // eyes closed as though asleep;
Yet somehow, I knew she is still listening to me.
I finished, and got out my twelve-string ovation guitar;
They enjoyed singing my old classics from the sixties…
A time when we all were young, and words sung told stories.
As I began to sing, “You are my sunshine…” her head began to move
Others joined in letting the song take them to another place and time.
Thought her body remained motionless, her feet now began to move;
Her soft pink slippers began a rhythmic pattern as she relived the days
When she danced, carefree to the music, with the one she loved.
Clutching her dolly, her eyes went from open to closed and open again
She rode the rhythms of each song in her mind, as feet danced
Pushing her wheelchair back to her unit she quietly said to me,
“I really enjoy that.”
It was then I knew I was making a difference!

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Anmol, at d’Verse, asked us to write a poem that uses description of a person that paints a picture of that person for the reader. I decided to write about one of the elderly persons who comes to hear my stories and songs at the local nursing home.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

The Connection Never Ends

As family members get older and need more care, the importance of staying connected is vital. Visiting from time to time lets them know you are concerned for their well-being . Those who show their love and care are a lasting connection. People who make that extra effort are always greatly appreciated. We all remember when family and friends are there for us in our difficult times of life.

When you are there in time of need
showing compassion by what you do;
Your connection never ends
When you reach out to lend a hand
To one who struggles through each day;
Your connection never ends
When you show God’s love in time of grief
Just  giving a caring hug brings relief;
Your connection never ends
It is not what you say but who you are
Sharing yourself // expressing your love
That connection never ends

Photo: Dwight L. Roth