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Archive for February, 2017

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Heart to heart;
Daisy to daisy;
Linked always.

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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhix1OG/Two+hearts

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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.

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America, it is to thee,
Thou boasted land of liberty, –
It is to thee I raise my song,
Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong.
It is to thee, my native land,
From which has issued many a hand
To tear the black man from his soil,
And force him here to delve and toil;
Chained on your blood-bemoistened sod,
Cringing beneath a tyrant’s rod,
Stripped of those rights which Nature’s God
Bequeathed to all the human race,
Bound to a petty tyrant’s nod,
Because he wears a paler face.

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The sun, some days, now burns away the gray:
The fog, the dreary mist will cry, but go.
We, too, will brighten; “Spring is here!” we’ll say.
But ask the old mesquites; they always know.

The robin seeks a harvest on the lawn,
His red breast like the color of Spring blooms.
We celebrate, think all the cold is gone,
But old mesquites are mute as if in tombs.

The saplings green; the fruit trees start to bud.
The earth was pale; now color’s in its cheeks.
And we exult o’er end of snowy mud,
But old mesquites are without leaves for weeks.

The robin says that Spring begins its run,
But old mesquites must say that Winter’s done.

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The photo is mine and the big tree on the right is an old mesquite.

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

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If you’re ever going to love me love me now, while I can know
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone
And then chisel it in marble-warm love words on ice-cold stone.
If you’ve dear, sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me?
Don’t you know ‘twould make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait till I am sleeping, ne’er to waken here again,
There’ll be walls of earth between us and I couldn’t hear you then.
If you knew someone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet
Would you be so slow to bring it?  Would you step with laggard feet?
There are tender hearts all round us who are thirsting for our love;
Why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above?
I won’t need your kind caresses when the grass grows o’er my face;
I won’t crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So, then, if you love me any, if it’s but a little bit,
Let me know it now while living; I can own and treasure it.

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mvi1qkq

A perch fight –
That’s the main reason
For most wars.

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photo by Phil Edon at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mVi1QKQ/Flight+on

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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.

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O heart of mine, we shouldn’t
Worry so!
What we’ve missed of calm we couldn’t
Have you know!
What we’ve met of stormy pain
And of sorrow’s driving rain,
We can better meet again,
If it blow!

We have erred in that dark hour
We have known,
When our tears fell with the shower,
All alone! –
Were not shine and shower blent
As the gracious Master meant? –
Let us temper our content
With His own.

For, we know not every morrow
Can be sad;
So, forgetting all the sorrow
We have had,
Let us fold away our fears,
And put by our foolish tears,
And through all the coming years
Just be glad.

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The gray-haired man on the iron-gray horse
Toward Pennsylvania led his gray-clad force.
And a Union lass in the Union land
Said, “I wish he was ours – he’s handsome and grand.”

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*A Union lass did say that.


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

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A Death blow is a Life blow to Some
Who till they died, did not alive become –
Who had they lived, had died but when
They died, Vitality begun.

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In love, he gives what she desires
And oft ere she would tell him so.
Her face-gleams and her fast eye-fires
Tell him her wants he needs to know.

Because he loves, he views her face,
As mother would her baby scan,
And sees the instant her glows grace
The cherished cheeks he cups in hand.

Her twinkling eyes he always sees;
They list to him what her heart stores.
He’s e’er intent on her to please;
Love studies long what it adores.

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The photo is mine, taken in the Rose Garden in Tyler, Texas.

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

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mgf4nbg

Grasping, but
Unless we reach God
All is vain.

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photo by Manu Mohan at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mgF4NBG/The+rave

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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.

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