Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for April, 2012

Casio Alarm Clock MA-2

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Scenario I

Doesn’t wake
I forgot to set –
Needs arming.

———————–

Scenario II

Power loss
Middle of the night
Was storming.

———————–

Scenario III

By alarm,
Waked from a sound sleep,
Alarming!

———————-

Snore-e-o IV, V, VI, VII…

I’m retired;
Rarely set my clock.
That’s charming.

———————-

* 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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Nature montagnarde

(Photo credit: gelinh)


Nature

O Nature!  I do not aspire
To be the highest in thy choir, –
To be a meteor in thy sky,
Or comet that may range on high;
Only a zephyr that may blow
Among the reeds by the river low;
Give me thy most privy place
Where to run my airy race.

In some withdrawn, unpublic mead
Let me sigh upon a reed,
Or in the woods, with leafy din,
Whisper the still evening in:
Some still work give me to do, –
Only – be it near to you!

For I’d rather be thy child
And pupil, in the forest wild,
Than be the king of men elsewhere,
And most sovereign slave of care;
To have one moment of thy dawn,
Than share the city’s year forlorn.

Read Full Post »

Children at play

Children at play (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Things of Childhood

Like Paul, when growing older, I
Put childish things away.
There is a time for adult’s world,
For work and little play.

The blank slate of a baby’s mind
Was filled by sights and sounds,
Like colored notes cast lavishly,
Seeds sown on fertile grounds.

The bottles, rattles, and the blocks
Gave way to older toys.
Then soldiers, trucks, and baby dolls
Came, left all girls and boys.

My childhood innocence was lost
As world revealed its guile,
Reality beneath the mask:
It hid a serpent smile.

My youthful gangly limbs then grew
To manhood’s branch and trunk;
A hairy harvest and I shaved
My voice an octave sunk.

Through many changes, I have come;
A few things still remain.
Wise adults choose which things still do,
From which ones to abstain.

Like Paul, when growing older, I
Put childish things away;
But childlike curiosity
And wonder’s here to stay.

——————————————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

Read Full Post »

Admiralty Pier, Dover, from Shakespeare Beach

(Photo credit: John Mavin via Wikipedia)

                       Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; – on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay,
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch’d land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl’d.
But now I only hear
In melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Read Full Post »

Washington at Valley Forge

Washington at Valley Forge (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Cold Drills

One winter,
Valley Forge forged
An army.

———————–

Labor Unions

Killing geese
That laid golden eggs –
GM and….

———————–

Pastoral Painting

Green pasture,
White cattle egrets,
Black Angus.

———————–

* 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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

 

 

Read Full Post »

Gerard Manley Hopkins, English poet.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, English poet. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


                The Starlight Night

Look at the stars!  look, look up at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
Down in dim woods the diamond delves!  the elves’-eyes!
The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare!
Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare! –
Ah well!  it is all a purchase, all is a prize.

Buy then! bid then! – What? – Prayer, patience, alms, vows.
Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs!
Look! March-bloom, like on mealed-with-yellow sallows!
These are indeed the barn: withindoors house
The shocks.  This piece-bright paling shuts the spouse
Christ home, Christ and his mother and all his hallows.

Read Full Post »

Photo of the living room of a compulsive hoarder

Photo of the living room of a compulsive hoarder (Photo credit: Shadwwulf via Wikipedia)

 

The Hardness In A Hoarder’s Life

The horror of the hoarder’s life
Intrigues and then dismays –
The priorities all twisted up,
As stuff becomes their days.

Like ships that overloaded sink,
Beneath a stormy wave,
The house of hoarders falls apart
Because of what they crave.

They buy too much; take things for free;
They are the ad man’s dream.
They hear the spiel, are first to phone,
“No” never in their scheme.

So things pile up they never use
In fact, they cannot reach
How does one use a grain of sand
At bottom of the beach?

And hoarders don’t know where to start
To straighten up the mess
What’s one day’s work of cleaning up
When infinite, one less?

A hoarder tends to be a slob,
The last of pride erased.
What’s one more cup or paper plate
Midst mountains where they’re placed?

The hoarder’s things keep getting lost –
Where did I put my keys?
It’s easier to find one drop
Of water in the seas.

And in the hoarder’s precious trove
Of bells, and whistles, rings,
People are in last place to
A million worthless things

——————————————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Portrait of Phoebe Cary that hangs in her chil...

Portrait of Phoebe Cary that hangs in her childhood home in North College Hill, Ohio; painting made in New York City in 1850 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

        When Lovely Woman
 

When lovely woman wants a favor,
And finds, too late, that man won’t bend,
What earthly circumstance can save her
From disappointment in the end?

The only way to bring him over,
The last experiment to try,
Whether a husband or a lover,
If he have feeling is – to cry.

……….(after Goldsmith)

Read Full Post »

512

(Photo credit: Wikipedia), by Dbenbenn

Hit my thumb,
With a hammer – dumb!
It’s NOT numb!

—————————-

Standoffish,
Short, a bit stubby.
The rest, kiss.

—————————

Don’t oppose
The opposable
Mighty thumb.

—————————

You won’t want
A life without it –
A grip gripe.

—————————

Got a thumb?
Milk mustache or not,
You’ve got grip.

—————————

Here’s to You –
Suitable salute:
Thumb’s up, God!

—————————

* 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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

Read Full Post »

                   A Last Appeal 

O somewhere, somewhere, God unknown,
Exist and be!
I am dying; I am all alone;
I must have Thee!
God! God! my sense, my soul, my all,
Dies in the cry: –
Saw’st thou the faint star flame and fall?
Ah! it was I.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »