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Archive for February, 2016

I like Leap Years; I like the leap
Of one more day that’s free.
And one can work, or one can sleep
And never guilty be. 

But of one thing, I’ve had my fill
And want no extra day.
In fact, it is my fervent will
That they take one away. 

Both Leap Year and elections are
The same year out of four.
I, tired of extra campaign war,
Can’t take it anymore! 

Let’s take the pollies for that day
Or better – for a week! –
And lock them all, as one, away
So we won’t hear a squeak.


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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

 

 

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Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies:
Yet, Cole! thy heart shall bear to Europe’s strand
A living image of thy native land,
Such as on thy own glorious canvass lies
Lone lakes – savannahs where the bison roves –
Rocks rich with summer garland – solemn streams –
Skies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams –
Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves,
Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest – fair,
But different – every where the trace of men,
Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air.
Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.

 

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The turtle from the North was small and fast,
The southern one not wieldy ‘cause of size.
Though they were lately species closely classed,
They pounded at each other ‘neath torn skies.

The day before, the southern tortoise showed
That iron was far superior to wood.
That lesson was the first at Hampton Roads.
The second? Iron ‘gainst iron and both withstood.

Four hours hammering upon the hull.
The metal held; concussions racked the men.
They bled from nose and ears, their hearing dull –
Against the cannon balls, mere bowling pins.

The navies of the world now saw wood’s lack
Thanks to the Monitor and Merrimack.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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You say you’re glad I write – oh, say no so!
My fount of song, dear friend, ‘s a bitter well;
And when the numbers freely from it flow,
‘Tis that my heart, and eyes, o’erflow as well. 

Castalia, fam’d of yore, – the spring divine,
Apollo’s smile upon its current wears:
Moore and Anacreon, found its waves were wine,
To me, it flows a sullen stream of tears.

 

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Eight Legs Beat Two

That guard that’s
Guarding the garden
Keeps me out!

——————–

 

Tea Leaves Leafing

One little
Teapot short and stout.
Tea? I doubt.

——————–

 

Beauty

Beauty bright;
Beauty distinct and
Even blurred.

——————–

Eight – photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/puUthh0/in+the+back+garden27

Tea – photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/puUtqWw/in+the+back+garden26

Beauty – photo by Dez Pain at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf1c7rC/Purple+Flower+Over+Water

——————–

* 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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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As in that twilight, superstitious age
When all beyond the narrow grasp of mind
Seem’d fraught with meanings of supernal kind,
When e’en the learned philosophic sage,
Wont with the stars thro’ boundless space to range,
Listen’d with rev’rence to the changeling’s tale;
E’en so, thou strangest of all beings strange!
E’en so thy visionary scenes I hail;
That like the ramblings of an idiot’s speech,
No image giving of a thing on earth,
Nor thought significant in Reason’s reach,
Yet in their random shadowings give birth
To thoughts and things from other worlds that come,
And fill the soul, and strike the reason dumb.

 

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It was the first day and the sun arose
Like all the other days preceding this –
This one that some would think on at the close
As they looked back with rue to reminisce. 

The morn, if seasonal, was cool or cold.
There was no sudden blaze, no fiery heat.
At dawn, there was no final bell that tolled,
Yet curtain closed on any safe retreat. 

It was a day like all the days before,
The first day of the siege of Alamo.
None knew they only had a dozen more
None sees a blizzard in one flake of snow. 

There is a normal day that is the last
Without a signal that its fading kind
Exists no longer save the written past –
Upon the parchment of the fragile mind.

———————————————

On Feb.23, 1836, General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna and his men
arrived in San Antonio and the siege began at the Alamo.

———————————————-

The photo is mine.

———————————————-

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

 

 

 

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As graceful as the Babylonian willow
Bending, at noontide, over some clear stream
In Palestine, in beauty did she seem
Upon the cygnet-down of her soft pillow;
And now her breast heaved like some gentle billow
Swayed by the presence of the full round moon –
Voluptuous as the summer South at noon –
Her cheeks as rosy as the radiant dawn,
When heaven is cloudless! When she breathed, the air
Around was perfume! Timid as the fawn,
And meeker than the dove, her soft words were
Like gentle music heard at night, when all
Around is still – until the soul of care
Was soothed, as noontide by some waterfall.

 

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Here again!
Left on the outside.
Just us shoes.

— 

The people
Took us off their feet
And said, “Shoo!”

— 

It’s not fair!
We do the hard part.
Then, left out.

— 

We wonder
What they do inside
While we’re out.

— 

Against shoes,
Discrimination!
Socks went in!

— 

Let’s revolt!
Together, let’s just
Walk away.

——————–

photo by Adrian van Leen at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mPIZExG/shoes+at+the+entrance

——————–

* 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, 2016.

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My guess is the ticket is white;
Both blue and bright red are the lights.
Thus cop who is stopping those two
Is flashing the red, white, and blue.
Since tickets are not now my need,
I’d rather not get flagged for speed.


——————————————-

 

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

 

 

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