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Archive for August, 2019

I go to prove my soul,
I see my way as birds their trackless way,
I shall arrive. – What time, what circuit first,
I ask not: but unless God send His hail
Of blinding fireballs, sleet, or stifling snow,
In some time, His Good time, I shall arrive;
He guides me and the bird. In His good time.

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oxapFAc

Laid him low,
But in death, still high.
LSD.

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photo by Dez Pain at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oxapFAc/Rainbow+Gravestone

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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, 2019.

 

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From Cocoon forth a Butterfly
As Lady from her Door
Emerged – a Summer Afternoon –
Repairing Everywhere-

Without Design – that I could trace
Except to stay abroad
On Miscellaneous Enterprise
The Clovers – understood –

Her pretty Parasol be seen
Contracting in a Field
Where Men made Hay –
The struggling hard
With an opposing Cloud –

Where Parties – Phantom as Herself –
To Nowhere – seemed to go
In purposeless Circumference –
As ’twere a Tropic Show –

And notwithstanding Bee – that worked –
And Flower – that zealous blew –
This Audience of Idleness
Disdained them, from the Sky –

Till Sundown crept – a steady Tide –
And Men that made the Hay –
And Afternoon – and Butterfly –
Extinguished – in the Sea –

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mWBsC4E

There are some days so drab and plain
That by themselves they’re naught.
They’re overshadowed like a Jane
By one who’s by all sought. 

Now Christmas Eve is such a day –
It cannot stand alone.
Its name reveals the next holds sway;
By Christmas, it’s outshone. 

And such it is the day before
An execution day.
Tomorrow’s eve – it is no more
Than fragile wisps of hay. 

Though none would seek it, if it comes
It casts the greatest shade.
It takes away light, warmth, and numbs,
And all else is its maid.

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photo by Dez Pain at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mWBsC4E/Christmas+Baubles+2

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

 

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Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee! 

Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn. 

Still, still with Thee, as to each new-born morning
A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
So doth this blessed consciousness awakening,
Breathe, each day, nearness unto Thee and heaven. 

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
Sweet the repose beneath Thy wings o’er shading,
But sweet still to wake and find Thee there. 

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee;
Oh, in that hour fairer than daylight dawning,
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee!

 

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orQaokQ

Coconuts
Are some, but others –
Just a nut.

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photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/orQaokQ/coconut2

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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, 2019.

 

 

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The turtle on yon withered bough,
That lately mourned her murdered mate,
Has found another comrade now –
Such changes all await!
Again her drooping plume is drest,
Again she’s willing to be blest
And takes her lover to her nest.

If nature has decreed it so
With all above, and all below,
Let us like them forget our woe,
And not be killed with sorrow.
If I should quit your arms tonight
And chance to die before ‘it was light,
I would advise you – and you might –
Love again tomorrow.

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