The Super Moon was up early. Before the sun went down this guy was already sneaking up trying to hide in fading daylight. I drove downtown thinking I could get the moon shining against the buildings. The only thing I got was bright setting sun and a faded moon. Later in the evening as the sky darkened the moon shone bright. These are my photos.
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Who needs mirrors //we have selfies!
Gone are the days of looking in the mirror
Only to leave and forget what we saw
Now we have photos // permanent images
Wild and crazy images posted across the net
So close, we can count the pimples and pinch the zits
Mirrors are so uncertain //fleeting images
Liars we can rationalize and refute
Going back to pretending dementia
Just like the scale’s high numbers
But with Selfies, the narcissistic addiction
We are so enraptured with ourselves
We think others on the web will all agree
Perhaps we need to go back
Look in the mirror and leave it there
Selfies make liars of all
“Like” is a relative term
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Clip Art: Dreamtime.com
Our poetry challenge prompt today on d”Verse comes from Bjorn, who asks us to write a poem about mirrors. Any poem using the word mirror is ok. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub.
https://dversepoets.com/
Like a coffee lover’s dream
Poems of all blends
Streaming in
Words of strong bold flavor
Pain and pleasure detailed
Full of energy // inspiration
Medium blends of flowers,
Birds, sunsets, and shadows,
Mellow blends of moon and stars
Dreams reincarnated
Savored stimulation
Remembered
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Photo: from the d’Verse~Poetry Pub site
Today’s challenge from Victoria is to write a Quadrille (of 44 words) using the word poem in it. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and join the challenge. It is a very inspiring group of writers who share and read together.
https://dversepoets.com/
Our Love (A Quadrille)
Our love’s a poem
written in the tide…
Spelling out our dreams
on the shore of life
Poem of lasting quality
Ebb and flow from day to day
Smooth, serene, mirroring the sky…
Crashing // bold from deep within
Our Love…
Written for the ages
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Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today’s challenge from Victoria is to write a Quadrille (of 44 words) using the word poem in it. Come visit us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and join the challenge. It is a very inspiring group of writers who share and read together.
https://dversepoets.com/
The neighbors were ejected from their home a few weeks ago. It was very sad to see. An eviction notice had been issued a couple of months ago. Most of us live in our homes without this threat. We have jobs or income to sustain us. But there are many around us who are not so fortunate. They tend to rotate in and out of our neighborhoods. Then there are homeless who have not means of getting a home. The situation is so enormous and overwhelming that in our minds we delegate them out to churches, community shelters or social services. Personally. I have very mixed emotions about this. Sometimes it is easier to close my eyes to it than to try to find a way to help. What do you think?
One Eye Open
One eye open the other eye shut
Through life we go
Friends and family all around
We love their exuberant hugs
Enjoy their joyous laughter
Welcome them into our home
But on the other hand…
We close one eye
Hoping not to know
Wishing not to see
The struggles others face
Who live nearby
Perhaps next door
Keeping to themselves
Sharing only first names
Telling no more
Until one day the sheriff comes
Ejecting them // putting a sign on the door
Amid loud voices and frustrated shouts
No jobs // no money to pay the rent
Now they are gone // the house is empty
Cleaned and prepped
For the next unknown family
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Sometimes I feel like Thelma and Louise, who. in the movie. put the peddle to the metal and sailed off the Grand Canyon. The closer I get to the end of life the more I realize that I must keep pushing forward, enjoying each day as much as I can. Who knows how long this ride will last, so I keep on peddling into the future knowing full well that the edge of the cliff is not far off. As Dylan Thomas said… “Do not go gentle into that good night… Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Writing poetry is one way for me to rage against the dying of the light, when this life for me comes to an end. Also, it is very rewarding to me.
Peddle Faster
Peddle faster feel the wind
The finish line is now in site
My race is on
But winning is not the goal
Just finishing well
Many slow down // stumble and fall
Barely dragging across the line
I never know what I might encountered
So I give it all I’ve got, while I still can
The finish line is not far off
So I ride with gusto
Enjoy the thrill
Competition is not the goal
In this race of life
Anything can happen
Fading away is not my plan
It is all about finishing well
For the finish line is now in site
But // I’ve still got a long way to go
Only time will tell
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
You Can’t See My Roots
You cut me making me bleed
Liquid of life flows down my trunk
You strike and bruise me tearing my skin
Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty
For you can’t see my roots
*
You cut off my branches take off all my leaves
Thinking surely he will die
You burn me stripping me bare
Leaving me exposed to the elements
Yet I stand tall // strong and mighty
For you can’t see my roots
*
You cut me down to a stump and haul away my trunk
Not much of me left to show
Surely we have killed him this time
He has nothing left // his strength is gone
They do not know // they cannot tell I will rise again
I will come back with exponential strength
For my strength is in my roots
If you are like me you might like the photo that comes with a poem as well or better than the poem itself. The beauty of the photo grabs your mind and won’t let go. I received a poem some time ago from my sister. The beautiful field of flowers and the mountains in the background captivated me much more than the poem. I thought how superficial that I would go for a photo over a poem. Perhaps I am superficial.
Call Me Superficial
Call me superficial… when seeing a picture
Causes words to escape me
When beauty take precedence over substance
And I am drawn by what my eyes behold
*
Call me superficial when a picture in a story
Catches my attention and sets my mind on the fire
My imagination soars and transports my soul
To realms beyond word or pen
*
Call me superficial when melody and harmony
Lift my spirit from the very first note
Only to be followed by words
Adding to or taking away my feeling of awe
*
Call me superficial when the background blurs
Seven layers deep
And the last brush stroke is the first I see
*
All that work labor and toil
Only to end in an accent of light against dark
Beauty against substance
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Photo: Dwight L. Roth
It is open mike night at d’Verse~Poetry Pub tonight so I get to post a poem of my choice with the group. The poem above is one of my all time favorites. Come join us at: https://dversepoets.com/
Web of Death
In her dark tunnel she hides
Lying in wait for the blazing sun
Dew drops clinging to her web
Breathing quietly // with the patience of Job…
Knowing lunch comes as soft breezes blow.
Her web of death // spun for unwitting insects
Entangled in her shimmering threads.
Thin as fiber optics… strong as steel
Once entangled // they are her next meal
From her tunnel of darkness she emerges
Like a horror on the fun-house ride
One venomous bite // and it’s all over
Then she’s back inside
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Photo: Dwight L. Roth
When I was a boy, I spent many hours running through the woods behind our house. My friend Henry and I watched episodes of The Lone Ranger, and then head for the woods to pretend we were the real thing. It was great fun, but sometimes we got off the beaten paths and into the green leaves of poison ivy beside the trails. By the next morning I would be scratching my ankles and between my toes. If the oil from the leaves got on our face it could swell our face and might require a doctors visit. Most of the time we simply rubbed on pink calamine lotion and kept on playing.
The song above by the Coasters came out in the fifties. With its catchy lines it became a song you could not get out of your head once you heard it. I have always enjoyed hearing the famous hook, “Poison I—vy, Poison I—-vy… Late at night while you’re sleeping Poison Ivy comes creeping around.? I am not sure exactly what the real meaning of the song is since it could be interpreted in a couple of different ways. Be sure to listen to the clip above, for a taste of fifties music, and see what you think?
Poison Ivy
Barefoot boys running on rabbit trails
Chasing imaginary figures into the woods
Cowboys and Indians running wild
So much fun to run and hide
Pearl handled six-shooters and homemade rifles
All played a part in our virtual reality games
We were Daniel Boone and Davy Crocket
Crouching in the leaves behind a fallen tree.
That green three clustered foliage didn’t worry us
By morning night dreams turned to itchy nightmares.
“Late at night while we’re sleeping
Poison Ivy came a creepin’ around…”
Blisters and red bumps covered our toes
Even had a few bumps on our nose
Mom brought the bottle of Pepto-pink liquid
Calamine lotion spread over it all like jam
Didn’t seem to help too much at the time
It still had to run its itchy course
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Poison Ivy song: Youtube clip from the Coasters
Our prompt from Bjorn today was to write a poem including a poisonous plant in our poem. Come join us at d’Verse~Poetry Pub and see what everyone is doing.
https://dversepoets.com/
Roth Poetry 