Things I learned in High School

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.

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Mourning or Celebrating

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.

The Climb II – segments 8&9

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.”

***

Jim’s mind wonder off, thinking about all that George had gone through that cold night two years ago. He was so glad that his friend made it home again and had recovered well from his triple by-pass surgery.

Jim offered George one of his chocolate bars as George pulled out some dog biscuits for Old Blue. Blue snatched them up and chomped down on one crushing it between his strong teeth. Sitting on this particular rock with George gave Jim a warm feeling and he was glad George had drawn him away from his reading to come along with him.

Old Blue gobbled down the biscuits and stood wagging his tail, giving a bark letting George know he would like another one. George gave him the last biscuit he had brought along. After eating it, Blue wandered down to the creek below for a drink.

As Jim and George sat on the rock finishing their lunch, Old Blue went sniffing a little farther up toward a large pile of rocks nearby. After a few minutes, he started barking furiously standing his ground near one of the rocky outcrops.

“I wonder what he is so excited about,” chuckled Jim, as they closed their packs.

“Probably just another ground squirrel that ran under a rock,” George replied. “Lets go see what he is up to.”

They put on their packs and headed down and back up to where Old Blue was having a fit. As they got closer, George stopped and listened. He immediately called Blue back to him and took out his pistol. Jim was surprised at George’s actions until he looked at what Old Blue was barking at.

There curled up under the ledge of the rock was a timber rattler! He was eyeing Old Blue and his rattles were shaking with a steady warning rhythm. Fortunately, Blue’s instincts told him to keep his distance, but that did not stop his barking frenzy.

“Just stay back,” George told Jim. “This is not something we want to tangle with today.”

“Are you going to shoot it?” Jim asked excitedly.

“No,” George replied, “we are going to keep our distance and move on away from it. It wants to avoid us as much as we want to avoid it. Those warning rattles are telling us to keep away.”

“Shouldn’t we kill a poisonous snake,” Jim inquired.

“Snakes are a very important part of the ecosystem. They help keep down the rodent population as well as the rabbits and squirrels. So, no we are not going to kill it. Many people are afraid of snakes, but they are seldom aggressive unless cornered or messed with in some way.”

George went on, “Old Blue is lucky he kept his distance and waited for us to come. If a dog gets too close the snake will strike at his face. In most cases the dog will recover, although there will be swelling, and it will be painful for him. It is important to get them to a veterinarian as soon as possible.”

“With humans, antivenom is used to counteract the bite. Timber rattlesnake venom is considered a hemotoxin, which means it acts to destroy tissue as an aid in digesting its prey. It also has neurotoxins, which affect the nervous system. Getting medical help is very critical to preventing tissue damage. Most people will recover from snakebite!”

***

For more information on Timber Rattlers check out this YouTube clip:

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Timber+rattler&docid=607996575647475445&mid=6A10E5084F83CEF29E566A10E5084F83CEF29E56&view=detail&FORM=VIRE

Now That You’re Gone

Back in December of 2014, my nephew was killed in a traffic accident. He was still in the prime of his life at that time. It was very sad for all of us. I wrote this poem as a way to work through the feelings I had at that time.

Now That You’re Gone

(Remembering Brian)

Now that you’re gone what can I say

that hasn’t already been said

The good and bad the sweet and sad

Imprints on my heart

Hurricanes of emotion cutting deep

Sometimes pounding

Sometimes they gently creep

Like grains of sand on an evening beach

Ebbing, flowing, smoothing all the footprints of time

leaving only diamonds of Light glistening on the sand

answers sifting through the fingers of my hand

Warm sun sends its healing rays

Now, the only thing left to say

echos through my mind…

“I Love You!”

Revised from 12-2014

Posting on d’Verse Poet’s Pub open link night…

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Loss

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.

Loosing Those We Love

Loss and with it grief stay with us for ever…

and come back to visit at a moments notice it seems.

Hold on to those wonderful memories…

They are worth keeping // worth grieving over.

They are pieces of your life that are shedding away

but never forgotten.

This is Open Link Night at d’Verse Poets Pub.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Looking into Time’s Mirror

These old bones gaze on those old bones

filled with memories intertwined in each room.

Looking into a mirror of the past I wonder

if those old bones have memories…

of love and laughter in each room?

I open memory’s door to a dim view.

I see us all crowd around as we listen to

Mom reading stories enriching our minds;

instilling values and morals never forgotten.

This broken down pile of bones still stands…

Seventy-four years later it remembers my birth.

In the back bedroom, I came into the world…

A bouncing baby boy with a life of wonder ahead.

Now looking back, I see an old house;

A stack of bones, not unlike my own;

Still here // but for how long I do not know.

As I look into times mirror, I see what was…

A life full of joy and pain filled with memories.

Do houses remember that we have been there?

How much longer will I remember?

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.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Come Fly With Me

Stamp Art – Dwight L. Roth

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”

Tears of the Moon – Dwigth L. Roth

–

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.

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Check out my e-books on Amazon Kindle:

https://www.amazon.com/Dwight-Roth/e/B017HW5AHG?ref_=dbs_p_ebk_r00_abau_000000