It Is A Villain, Nell by Dennis Lange

            It Is A Villain, Nell

You may think, little girl, that it is swell,
But close exam the animal will flunk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

Admiring its soft hair, one cannot tell.
Focus on the tail and you are sunk.
You may think, little girl, that it is swell. 

For it, you’ll get a special place in hell
In tomato juice: a bath, a dunk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

Its black and white give off no warning bell;
Dear nose and eyes will make you tell me, “bunk!”
You may think, little girl, that it is swell. 

But when it hits you with that awful smell,
You’ll end in isolation like a monk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

It has appealing points to sway, to sell;
So when you first encounter that cute skunk
You may think, little girl, that it is swell.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell!

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

It’s Home

Don’t you gno?
There’s gnome place in Nome
Dorothy.

——————–

Who Sews?  A Sewer

A close fit
On street’s brick-striped shirt -
A button.

——————–

Per See Ving

One can see
God’s word and still not
Truly see.

——————–

Home – photo by Salva Barbera at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mKtKkps/Gnome+040

Sew – photo by drow at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mWyrooc/manhole+cover

Per – photo by Adrian van Leen at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mpkehgu/polyglott+Bible+and+glasses

——————–

* 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, 2013.

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Rush Hour by Dennis Lange

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

               Rush Hour 

I’m grateful for the days I drive
   Long, lonely country roads
That little seems to be alive,
   That lanes have lighter loads 

Than city streets with bustle’s blight,
   The traffic in a bind,
That I might have the time to write
   The traffic on my mind.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

 

Hear Her Here

She complained:
Words fall on deaf ears.
He: Heard that!

——————–

 

Passing The Torch

I’m setting.
I’ve kept the day safe.
It’s your turn.

——————–

 

The Watcher

The sadness,
Man’s woe on the earth -
I can’t watch.

——————–

Hear – photo by Helmut Gevert at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mC2HKF4/ear

Torch – photo by Bill Davenport at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mg1XCuu/Peggy%27s+Cove

Watcher – photo by Marja Flick-Buijs at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/dMBY9C/Angel+on+woodpanel

——————–

* 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, 2013.

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The Old Apartments by Dennis Lange

      The Old Apartments 

Old boxes lined up in a row,
   The homes some could not buy,
Are full of tears as they come down,
   Like rents that rip the sky. 

What were their lives, what were their dreams?
   The walls were witness then
Of loves and hates, of gains and loss –
   O’ give the wood a pen! 

But silent they, a skeleton,
   The walls quite bare, forlorn,
Assaulted by the wrecking crew,
   Their outer garments shorn. 

Their eyes are out; they cannot see,
   Though once they lit with life
That flickered when the sun went down
   Through panes, some pain and strife. 

The workers will be finished soon;
    Like time, they also raze.
And then the building, like all men,
   Will come to end of days.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

 

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Campbell Town by Marvin Hambright

My grandfather (Marvin Hambright) sometimes answered the phone with this little
ditty he made up:

Campbell Town,
Davis Street,
Hambright Hotel,
Nothing to eat.

Campbell was the name of a neighbor across the highway and down a lane.
Davis was another neighbor across the lane to the right of the house (when
facing it).  They didn’t have a lot of money so he tossed in “nothing to eat.”
My grandfather was a farmer and one of his crops was cotton.  One day
in the early 50′s, he was stripping cotton when he stopped the tractor to
fix something on the stripper, which was still running.  Clothing got caught
in the moving parts and pulled an arm or a leg (I forget which was first)
into the stripper.  In trying to free himself, the other limb of the two also
went in.  Mangled, he lay caught in the stripper for some time before someone
came along and found him.  I can still remember the wild 16-mile drive to
the hospital that day (one of my first memories) and sitting in the car in
front of the hospital during the many visits that followed.

He survived – with one arm and a wooden leg (very crude by today’s standards).
He not only survived, but he continued to farm.  I’ve always been amazed that
he still drove a tractor.  Having driven one myself, I know how busy hands and
feet and mind are when one comes to the end of a row and makes a turn.  One
must slow the tractor, lift the plow, stomp the foot brake on one wheel so the
tractor almost turns on a dime, and use both hands to turn the steering wheel
(no power steering!).  Once the turn is made, the plow is dropped and the
tractor is given more speed.  My grandfather solved part of that by stopping
when he came to the end of a row and going through all that more slowly, but
I’m still amazed that he could do it.

He had a lot of phantom pain from his two stumps and one could often see
the pain in his face.  The rest of the time, his great sense of humor would shine
through.  As new grandkids came along, he’d eventually have them come over
to his chair.  He’d pound on his wooden leg and watch their faces as they
heard the noise.  He’d pull up his pant leg and show them the wooden leg and
laugh.  Simply put: with one arm and one leg, he kept on living as full a life
as any other.

He was one of the most remarkable men I’ve ever known.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

 

Call of the Mild

Serene, rest -
Nature and hammock,
Inviting.

——————–

 

Identity Theft

Tell a clown:
Stop clowning around!
Becomes what?

——————–

 

Find It

There’s a way.
Oft when the world’s dark,
Bright for you.

——————–

Mild – photo by Indra Vitmane at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nyjCR9m/No.+2308+%282010%29

Theft – photo by Richard Dudley at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mflfeVK/Amusement+Fair+Ride+2

Find – photo by Stella Bogdanic at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/moj1fjS/loner

——————–

* 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, 2013.

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Toll Road by Dennis Lange

 

(Photo credit: Mr Munnings on Tour)

              Toll Road

A letter came the other day,
   A most official note.
It was demanding in its way
   (We’ll take you by the throat!). 

You drove upon our road, it said,
   And so we tolled you so.
And since this bill you now have read
   We now have told you so. 

So cough up quickly!  Hear us now!
   This dun won’t go away.
Ours is a very threatening vow:
   You surely have to pay. 

I mulled it over thoroughly
   As tongues will probe a tooth.
And came, at last, it seems to me,
   To an important truth. 

I’ve liked the free way all my days
   And that’s the way I go.
Toll man – I’ll find some other ways.
   And now, I’ve told you so.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

Potted Plants

What grows here?
Two plants that we call
Cat’s whiskers.

——————–

Owl Let You Know

I’m asking:
Who is the wise guy?
Who, who, who?

——————–

The Ocean, The World

Oh, just look!
So much sea to see!
The joy!

——————–

Plants – photo by Carol Herak-Kramberger at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/n7Lc6Mg/Kittens+in+a+pot+3

Owl – photo by tinneketin at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/moRH9SM/Owls+in+a+tree+%21

Ocean – photo by Justyna Furmanczyk at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mqytZZM/enjoy+the+life

——————–

* 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, 2013.

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Memorial Day by Dennis Lange

Arlington National Cemetery (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Memorial Day

On this day and on all others,
   With a sense of legacy,
Know your freedom’s bought, our brothers -
   Keep in mind our memory. 

Teach your children what we’ve suffered;
   Tell your tots the price we paid;
Let them know that lives were offered
   So they learn how freedom’s weighed. 

Pass it to the next begetting,
   Like an heirloom handed down,
So there’s no one that’s forgetting;
   Keep it green, not dried and brown. 

Let them know we died in trenches;
   Tell them graves are ‘neath the sea;
E’en in the air, we felt death’s pinches;
   Our last words – pained poetry. 

In the flag, our blood stains ripple,
   Highest cost for liberty.
Drench the youth or daily stipple
   With the paint of history. 

Tell your children of our treasure:
   Wives and babies left behind -
Sacrifice that’s without measure;
   Depth of heartache undefined. 

Dead in graves aren’t all that’s buried
   Widows, orphans shattered, too;
Joy and peace to Hades ferried
   Left? A lifetime full of rue. 

That we did for precious freedom,
   Knowing cost before we went.
Never treat us like a wee crumb,
   Like a worthless copper cent. 

Ring the bell throughout the ages;
   Tell our tale, how freedom’s bought.
Let our stories fill the pages;
   We ask no more than what we ought.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

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