………………..Sonnet – Silence

There are some qualities – some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence – sea and shore –
Body and soul.  One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o’ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless, his name’s “No More.”
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man), commend thyself to God!

Hair On End

The bell rang.
Frightened baby bird,
“Help!  Save me!”




Rock layers,
Water rippling o’er;
Light, shadows.



Surf And Sand

Churning foam
Rolling to the beach,
Churning home.


Hair – photo by Jill Smith at

Shimmers – photo by Kevin Tuck at

Surf – photo by Miguel Saavedra at


* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.



Fear death? to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so – one fight more,
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears
Of pain, darkness and cold
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute’s at end,
And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee gain,
And with God be the rest!


……………………….Escape from Big D

Two small town lads were we who spent the summer in Big D,
Where heat arose, as scorching sun beat down unmercifully.
And then was fired a dragons’ breath from acres of cement,
That left those city streets and walks like steam pours out a vent.

The heat baked loaves of loneliness away from family, friends
That we were forced to swallow; we were busy making ends
Meet – making money so that we could go to school.
In the bustle that was Dallas, each was just a molecule.

We had a certain circle, small, in which we felt secure –
To work, or play, or store – and nothing else was siren lure
Enough to take us from our comfort zone to loaded roads
That spread like spider webs, and carried many loathsome toads.

Oppressive heat made summer’s feet snail-slow to make its pass;
It schooled us with a tedium found in a boring class.
But finally its term was done; another’s time drew near.
Just one assignment still remained ere we were free and clear.

We had to work a final day, then to the master go –
The central office in downtown, and papers to them show.
Here was the middle of the mound that swarmed and teemed with ants
And spires of buildings pierced the sky as if each were a lance.

But worse is standing in a mound of ants that have been stirred
As ones who are the first to know are quick to pass the word.
And out an army rushes from each hole and porous rock
And fills the paths and lanes: rush hour traffic – five o’clock.

So through a maze of highways, exits, roads and one-way streets,
We had to map our way with care and also our retreat.
We plotted like the astronauts when headed for the moon,
And in the end, it was a single way that we had hewn.

And on that fateful day, we went to work with anxious face;
We knew that just a single flaw, and we’d spin into space,
And never would our ship return to family or home;
We’d live our lives among the stars and like lost nomads, roam.

The work went well; then we were done; we stuck close to our route,
And ev’ry turn went perfectly till downtown was about.
But it was nearing five o’clock and ants began to crawl,
As frantic ants are prone to swarm near Christmas at the mall.

We parked our car (I know not where); in company’s last spot?
Then up into the air we went to cut the Gordian knot.
The paperwork was finished somewhere on an upper floor;
We hastened then to exit from the open Dallas door.

Down, down we went with our emotions high up in a cloud
Until we saw the streets were full with nowhere going crowd.
Our one way street, our ticket home, was five blocked lanes abreast
And we were in the far right lane, behind a bus, at rest.

And worse – far worse! for small town lads, who knew but one
way home,
Our turn was left – and we were right, as far away as Rome.
A block away, but we were blocked; we knew no other way;
How dark is hopeless life when light hides even from the day!

But then, a miracle – the bus ahead picked up its fare.
And cutting left, it pushed the traffic back – our path was bare!
Like God, for Israel, did part the waters of the Sea,
The bus did thus for us; we followed close, freed from Big D.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.


………………I Had A Dove

I had a dove and the sweet dove died,
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for?  Its feet were tied
With a silken thread of my own hand’s weaving;
Sweet little red feet! why should you die –
Why should you leave me , sweet bird! why?
You liv’d alone in the forest-tree,
Why, pretty thing! Would you not live with me?
I kiss’d you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?

Sweet Tooth Truth

Oh, to be
Kid in candy store
One more time.


No worry
Of sugar or diet
Just pig out.


photo by Sue R B at


* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.




The Morning after Woe –
‘Tis frequently the Way –
Surpasses all that rose before –
For utter Jubilee – 

As Nature did not care –
And piled her Blossoms on –
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon – 

The Birds declaim their Tunes –
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers – Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead – 

On here and there – a creature –
They’d modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef –
Some Key of Calvary –


Buy The Truth And Sell It Not

I’ve often asked, “Is there a line
That lies twixt truth and error?”
My answer – is it only mine? –
It’s strife, and often, terror.

It cannot be a line that’s mixed
With truth and error halving;
Right’s right, and wrong is wrong – both fixed.
There is no sheep that’s calving.

The line is like a battle drawn –
There is no co-existence.
Colliding, cold and hot air spawn
A front at both’s insistence.

There is no mix with water, oil.
They’re kept from e’er eliding
As if the hand of practiced mohel
Was there, with knife, dividing.

As truth, two faiths can never stand –
Between them: fire and battle.
With God or godless – line in sand,
And down it sabers rattle.

In truth, it’s truth when once defined
Which makes all else an error.
Truth’s one, but error’s not confined -
Truth always is the rarer.

That truth means truth is valued more
It stands alone, uniquely.
And error (Witch) is jealous, sore,
Of truth (Snow White) completely.

And error, erring, true to kind,
Is cause of strife and terror.
It seeks to take the place assigned
To truth – the valued, fairer.

So buy the truth, and sell it not;
No error is its double.
One sends the sailor through the slot,
The other is his trouble.


Proverbs 23:23 Buy truth, and do not sell it;
Get wisdom and instruction and understanding.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

……………….To Kosciusko 

Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone
Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling:
It comes upon us like the glorious pealing
Of the wide spheres-an everlasting tone.
And now it tells me, that in the worlds unknown,
The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,
And changed to harmonies, for ever stealing
Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne.
It tells me too, that on a happy day,
When some good spirit walks upon the earth,
Thy name with Alfred’s, and the great of yore
Gently commingling, gives tremendous birth
To a loud hymn, that sounds far, far away
To where the great God lives for evermore.


Tadeusz Kosciusko, hero in the Polish rebellion:

Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote a sonnet by the same title that was published Dec.16, 1794.  It can be seen here:


Hunt’s sonnet was published in November of 1815. It can be seen here:


John Keats’ sonnet was published in December, 1816.


Bowls And Globes

A small world
Satisfies enough
A small mind.


The largest
Is satisfied by
This grand Earth.



photo by Elvis Santana at



* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.




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