Words better left unspoken
stain the mind with permanent
indelible ink
Remembered // played on repeat
over and over and over again
You can push the pause button
but you can never erase
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Words better left unspoken
stain the mind with permanent
indelible ink
Remembered // played on repeat
over and over and over again
You can push the pause button
but you can never erase
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Dreaming
I can always dream… they never get old!
Let my mind wander up and down memories past
Delusions of grandeur finally replaced with reality
*
I can always dream… they never get old!
Remembering the good times when faces were flushed
Spontaneous times of sweet intense connection
*
I can always dream… they never get old!
Babies, turning into children, growing into adults
Blooming in their prime… still making our mistakes
*
I can always dream… they never get old!
Places to go and things to see traveling while we still can
Making the most of the time we have left
*
I can always dream… they never get old!
Even when I am old confined to a chair
Memories are as fresh as they ever were
*
I can still dream…
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Photo: Dwight L. Roth
When I think back on the things I learned
I wonder what fragment remains after sixty years
Math and Literature History and Civics
all are fading fast, but there is one skill
I use every day, creating this blog for you…
Typing skills remain
***
Stamp Art Typewriter: Dwight L. Roth
d’Verse prompt for Quadrille Monday… type… or a form of the word.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com
New buds surround light
Filled with the hope of springtime
In church loved ones mourn
Remembering a life well lived
Celebrating family ties
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Yesterday we gathered with family and friends to remember the life of my brother’s wife. She was a beautiful strong woman, who spent 35 years of her life serving others as an Intensive Cardiac Care nurse. She was loved by all who knew her. Though we mourned her loss, we celebrated the gift she was to all of us.
Jim was glad he had worn his jeans today instead of shorts. Cautiously he climbed into the cave. There wasn’t much head room, but he was able to maneuver and turn around without much difficulty.
The leaves that had blown into the cave smelled dank and musty. But they were dry and made it easier on the knees for Jim.
“I can see why you chose this cave to get out of the snowstorm,” said Jim, as he settled into the spot where George had spent the night. “Between you, your gun, and pack there is very little room left.”
It really was a tight fit, George replied. “There was so much of me in there, there was no room for the cold! But it did keep me somewhat comfortable through the night.”
Jim laughed as he scrambled back out of the cave into the sunshine and onto the flat rock where George was sitting. By now the sun was high overhead and George suggested that this might be a good place to eat their lunch.
“You know,” said George, as they ate their sandwiches. “We are sitting right at the spot where that Mountain Lion would have been that night. It was pitch black, I could not see anything, but there was a slight reflection from the snow.”
“How did you know where to shoot if it was that dark?” wondered Jim.
“I could hear heavy guttural breathing out on this flat rock, George replied. “Not wanting to take any chances, I decided to shoot before it stuck its head in the opening. As a result, I must have just grazed him, from the light blood stains I found the next morning.”
“Wow! Thought Jim, you were a lucky man.”
***
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For more information on Timber Rattlers check out this YouTube clip:
Posting on d’Verse Poet’s Pub open link night…
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
This past summer when we were at the beach, we discovered a bench along the dunes that had been turned into a memorial. I am not sure who Alec Romulus was but it is obvious he was loved and remembered. Someone wanted others who came to the beach to remember that Alec loved the beach. People put shells and mementoes on the bench to show that they cared. It was a beautiful tribute. On this Remembrance/Veterans Day many are remembering those who never made it back home again. Grief is a healthy thing. Most of us have lost someone near to us. Let those memories and feelings flow through you and rejuvenate your soul.
This is Open Link Night at d’Verse Poets Pub.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Bjorn asked us to use conceit in our poem. Conceit in poetry uses metaphor and extends it by comparing and interwining two unlikely subjects in juxtaposition with each other. I took a trip down memory lane to the house where I was born. It is now old and run down, un-cared for and overgrown. These are some of my thoughts as I remember my visit there a couple of years ago.
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Any other summer, but this one, planes would be packed to the max with passengers traveling to destinations all over the world. This summer we can only dream or reflect on places we have already been due to Covid-19. I made this stamp art piece a couple of years ago thinking the sky was the limit and we could go anywhere we chose.
*****
Summer heat is here
And so are we // stuck at home
Hoping fog clears soon
*****
Dreaming of destinations
Singing “Fly Me to the Moon”
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Photo: Dwight L. Roth