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Archive for December, 2014

 

 

 

 

Hippopota-mess

My, oh my!
Hippopotami
Sleeping, lie.

——————–


 

Non-Rolling Stones

Chunks of rock.
Unable to roll,
Gather moss.

——————– 

 

 

The Beauty Of Keeping On

In the sun
Keep standing tall, no
Matter what.

 

——————–

Hippo – photo by Andre Mesker at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mggZ29O/hippopotamus

Stones – photo by Richard Dudley at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mflfLZq/Rock+Gathers+Moss

Keeping On – photo by Johnny Berg at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mjA0l20/Sunset+-+HDR

——————–

 

* 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, 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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…………The Phoenix

O blest unfabled Incense Tree,
That burns in glorious Araby,
With red scent chalicing the air,
Till earth-life grow Elysian there! 

Half-buried to her flaming breast
In this bright tree, she makes her nest,
Hundred-sunned Phoenix! when she must
Crumble at length to hoary dust! 

Her gorgeous deathbed! her rich pyre
Burnt up with aromatic fire!
Her urn, sight high from spoiler men!
Her birthplace when self-born again! 

The mountainless green wilds among,
Here ends she her unechoing song!
With amber tears and odorous sighs
Mourned by the desert where she dies!

 

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….Things, And Other Things

I sailed the seas once, years ago,
And fond my memories
Of how the wind whipped up the waves,
Of tropic isles and trees.

But I’ll not ride the troubled brine
To-ward another shore.
Some things are only in the past;
Closed is that distant door.

I ran the court long years ago;
My legs were young and lean.
I took great pleasure in the score,
And in the striving keen.

But I’ll not pass the ball again,
Or hear the hailing throng
That murmured only in my mind:
My step and spring’s not strong.

I set my cap and courted once;
A season long ago.
The fireplace coals have cooled to ash,
And melted is the snow.

And like the water turns the wheel
Then rushes to the sea,
Romance ran wildly in my youth
Into tranquility.

I pause some days and sit a while
Remembering what’s through.
I give a sigh.  As sun I rise –
There’s so much else to do.

————————————–

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

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………..Merry Christmas!

 

My Wish For You

Peace on earth,
Goodwill with men, and
Peace with God.

——————–

photo by Javier Gonzalez at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nfbJ5Ak/Christmas+decoration

—————

* 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, 2014.

 

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…………………The Higher Pantheism

The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains –
Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns? 

Is not the Vision He? tho’ He be not that which He seems?
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams? 

Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and limb,
Are they not (sign and symbol) of thy division from Him? 

Dark is the world to thee: thyself ar the reason why;
For is He not all but that which has power to feel “I am I”? 

Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom
Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled splendour and gloom. 

Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet –
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet. 

God is law, say the wise; O Soul, and let us rejoice,
For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice. 

Law is God, say some: no God at all, says the fool,
For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool; 

And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man cannot see;
But if we could see and hear, this Vision – were it not He?

 

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……And Run You Out Of Town

You, stretch of Road, are misbehaving.
You’re like a naughty child –
The cracks and holes run wild.
It’s time to do some asphalt paving.

But Road, the next time you get weathered
Just letting yourself go –
We warn you so you’ll know –
You’ll find yourself both tarred and feathered.

—————————————————–

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

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I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room – 

He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themselves are One –
We Brethren, are”, He said – 

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –

 

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The Pay Was Hay

I’m wanted
To replace Rudolph.
I said “Neigh.”

 

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photo by Sue r b at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhBIhEq/Christmas+Horse+2+-+isolation

——————–

* 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, 2014.

 

 

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……..The Three Silences Of Molinos
…………..(To John Greenleaf Whittier)

Three Silences there are: the first of speech,
The second of desire, the third of thought;
This is the lore a Spanish monk, distraught
With dreams and visions, was the first to teach.
These Silences, commingling each with each,
Made up the perfect Silence that he sought
And prayed for, and wherein at times he caught
Mysterious sounds from realms beyond our reach.
O thou, whose daily life anticipates
The life to come, and in whose thought and word
The spiritual world preponderates,
Hermit of Amesbury! thou too has heard
Voices and melodies from beyond the gates,
And speakest only when thy soul is stirred!

 

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……………..Darkness

The lights blink out in this dark world;
A viral blackness spread
By a contagion devil-hurled,
With hearts its breeding bed.

The darkness never knows the light;
The two can’t co-exist.
Night’s never day, day never night;
Impossible a tryst.

Before light, darkness has no might;
A distant glimpse – it flees.
It cannot offer any fight,
Nor beg upon its knees.

The dark compares itself to night,
And rates itself quite high.
For blackness thinks that it is white
Since light is never nigh.

The Lord God’s like the brightest day,
No shadow or a cloud
Moves o’er His just and holy way.
No darkness is allowed.

So men who love the darkness flee;
They hide till He appears.
They will His brightness briefly see,
Then evermore shed tears.

——————————————

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

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