Morning bursts forth in all its radiant glory,
peering through the sheltered woods,
highlighting trees, dancing on flowers.
Steppingstones draw me to
the damp creek.
Frogs bury themselves in mud keeping cool
Morning breezes will soon shift
But, for now, the glorious morning shimmers.
Backyard Painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today, at d’Verse. Linda asked us to write a 44 word Quadrille using the word morning.
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Nature’s Fireworks
Starting a few days early
Happy Fourth of July
I saw the sun catching these day lilies just right last evening. I was able to get a shot before it moved on.
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
The stone-cold moon has no light of its own
Yet shines brightly in the night sky
A round chunk of rock and dust that never gives a moan
*
Some hear it humming, bright and full in the stary sky
Some think it calls lovers to swoon
As it returns night after night and days roll by
*
We know its strong forces pull the oceans’ tides
Invisible rubber band hangs onto earth for dear-life
Wanting to fly, to sail beyond, yet sometimes runs and hides
*
Love it seems, like the moon, is only a reflection
Of that warm smile (of the sun) making it glow
*
This poem is a spin-off of an audio poem by Merril Smith.
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
iPhone Photos from my walk today
Tiny gecko warms
Fall sunshine captured in stone
Revives his cold blood
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Grapes ripen on vines
Turning blue in summer sun
Squirrels may get first taste
My first good harvest
Will I get a taste at all
Other mouths compete
Globes of green sunshine
Pure sweet transformation waits
To see who tastes first
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Clauda at d’Verse, asked us to write a poem about our garden. I wrote this one last week about my grapes and competition with the squirrels for the fruit. I am now getting some sweet blue ones. They are wonderful. Since many of the d’verse group did not see this poem, I thought I would post it for our prompt this evening.
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Laundry on the line
For all the world to see
Basking in sunlight
Fresh sheets blowing in the wind
A fresh smell like no other
*
Clothes from the washer
Suds squeezed out through the ringer
Woman’s work back then
Monday morning wash day
Life’s simple routine repeated
*
Wicker basket filled
Undies just hung on the line
Wooden clothes pins tight
No one then gave it a thought
Whether the neighbors saw them
*
Phosphate soap bubbles
Tide will always get them clean
Good fresh smells linger
Dry clothes pressed on ironing board
Folded put up by supper
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
At d’Verse this evening, De asked us to write a poem about laundry! I grew up in the days when clothes were washed in a ringer washer and washtubs, hung on the line outside with wooden clothes pins, and ironed on an ironing board in the kitchen! No need for fabric softener back then the clothes always smelled wonderful. I decided to do a series of tankas.
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How swiftly time flies from there to here
Ten lifetimes rolled into one sweet moment
Today I’ll sit, in cool warming sunshine
Watch hawks soaring overhead
Listen to wrens and cardinals sing
And watch my drying little creek
Slowly turn into curdled algae yogurt
Today at d’Verse we are to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words, using the word swift or a form of the word. I was immediately drawn to how fast time has passed in my lifetime. These are my reflections.
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Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Daffodil’s first bloom
Basking in bright warm sunshine
Buds waiting their turn
*
Dark clouds brought cold rain today
Chilled blooms wait another day
*
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Old in age, I am young at heart
Seeing my way through an uncharted maze
I look for light in the winter dark of night
Racing slowly toward the finish line
*
Days creep by, as redundant weeks roll on
Attempting to find meaning in the meaningless
Believing in that unbelievable Spirit of all Creation
Experiencing grace and comfort in not knowing
*
In this winter of freezing joints and pushing buds
I defy the waiting cold earth with warm sunshine
I write my simple poems from inspired words unknown
As night closes in, each new day dawns
“I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf” – from The Paradox by Paul Dunbar
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Laura asked us to consider writing from the perspective of paradox. She gave us some lines from different poems to choose from for inspiration. I chose the one from Paul Dunbar’s, The Paradox.
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Roth Poetry 