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Departed – to the Judgment –
A Mighty Afternoon –
Great Clouds – like Ushers – leaning –
Creation – looking on –

The Flesh – Surrendered – Cancelled –
The Bodiless – begun –
Two Worlds – like Audiences – disperse –
And leave the Soul – alone –

mlCuLUm

The donut’s a puzzle to me;
The hole has not one calorie.
I should then be able to eat
A hundred or more of that treat.

A hundred times zero is NONE!
It should be that eating’s just fun,
A feast that is purely for taste.
But still they all go to my waist.

It could be the problem’s my rule –
Examine with care my sweet jewel:
I don’t think I’ve eaten the hole
Until I have eaten the whole.

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photo by Michael Lorenzo at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mlCuLUm/doughnut

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

(as told to a child)

As I went out, a Crow
In a low voice said, “Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-by,
And said to be good,
And wear her red hood,
And look for skunk tracks
In the snow with an ax –
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing.”

pbBdSf6

Together
On a single neck –
Flamingos.

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photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/pbBdSf6/rain+on+tropical+flowers9

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

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

[written on the death of an old family servant
who died Jan.7, 1861]

Sexton! Martha’s dead and gone;
…….Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha, – sleep in peace!
…….Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha’s dead and gone;
…….Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
“I’m old and poor, – would I were dead!”
…….Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha’s dead and gone;
…….Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She’ll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white,
…….Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha’s dead and gone;
…….Toll the bell! toll the bell!
‘T is fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
…….Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha’s dead and gone;
…….Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
…….Toll the bell!

mA6Smt6

The minor leaguers play for wealth and fame
Or just for pleasure on their daily plate,
Or anything to carry on their name
In hamlets small, or cities that are great.

Ambition is the wind that fills their sail
And drives them toward the only port they see,
Which may not measure much upon a scale –
But forward without knowing, blissfully!

Though some succeed and gain the greater stage
Most toil on in obscurity to fail,
A rueful fact they recognize in age,
And in depression, raise a bitter wail.

But majors hit a fastball none can see
And rarely swing at curves the foe may throw.
The list of contrasts go on endlessly –
So, too, those on the high road, not the low.

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photo by Robert Linder at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mA6Smt6/Dominican+Baseball

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

Science, true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee, or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?

mf3LPAG

A light load.
All it now carries –
Color blue.

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photo by Hanspeter Klasser at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf3LPAG/blue+barrow

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

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

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.
 

Look out upon the stars, my love,
And shame them with thine eyes,
On which, than on the lights above,
There hang more destinies.
Night’s beauty is the harmony
Of blending shades and light;
Then, lady, up, – look out, and be
A sister to the night!

Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye
Within my watching breast:
Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly
Who robs all hearts of rest.
Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break,
And make this darkness gay
With looks, whose brightness well might make
Of darker nights a day.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

When senators are sin-ators,
Vice presidents are vice,
When governors are minotaurs,
And trusted leaders lice,

Consider well spoiled milk you drink –
It’s rotten at the top.
You take a sip; you smell the stink,
And then your drinking stop.

But at the bottom of the well,
Where you disdained to go
The stink and spoil there also dwell,
E’en in the common Joe.

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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/noSU8yC/Rotten+apples

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.