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Archive for the ‘My Poems’ Category

mf8bmbK

I found no rhyme for Florida
So, orange you two are kin.
And very understandably,
You two already spend
Much time alone together
Since each must need a friend.

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photo by Dominic Morel at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf8bmbK/Orangey

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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nj98RMe

I’m here, and I’m waiting again
(Another will suffer the pain).
But as that’s occurring – away –
My minutes are whittled – my day
Is shortened, restricted. My view:
An office, a worker, or two.

Life’s filled with these moments we wait
Like horses to start at a gate.
A woman will wait for a child
Nine months, though it’s driving her wild.
The check’s in the mail – will it come?
Impatient, our fingers may drum.

I’m sitting here thinking of this,
And waiting is not far from bliss.
I’m turning these thoughts in my mind
To verses some others may find.
Thus, sweet balm of peace fills my brain
Like sounds and the smell of the rain.

Occurring to me is this thought:
Since waiting is often, we ought
Put weight in our waiting so space
Won’t sit on, like shadows, our face.
If silver, or if it is gold,
The wait will shine forth forty fold.

Our living itself is a wait,
For death, we hope distant in date.
And what with our lives will we do
While days whittle down till we’re through?

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photo by Robert Proksa at
https://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nj98RMe/Clock+01

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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Jewish holocaust


The Germans, grown calloused to slaughter
Of Jewish man, wife, son, and daughter
Could go on their way
Not bothered all day
While just over there was the slaughter.

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We do the same regarding 2500 abortion murders per day.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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Our eyes were lifted to this land that lay beyond the sea.
Great dreams arose and hope was born that life could better be.
And such a fire burned in our breasts, I looked into your eyes,
And said, “Let’s go”, and you agreed to sail to-ward this prize.
We booked our passage; packed our things – no, most we left behind –
Like Will’s carved birds, Jane’s second doll. And Moll (wife sweet
…..and kind)
Left pieces of her heart and soul she’d painted, bought or sewn.
And all of us left friends behind as well as flesh and bone.
We sailed. The sea stretched endlessly. Waves rose. Would we survive?
In spite of storms and sicknesses, we stand here, still alive.
Remember how the wagon rolled so slowly down the road
Until we topped the hill today to see our new abode?
What shall we name this treasured place from which we’ll never roam?
His family spoke together, said, “Let’s name it after home.”

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The picture is mine, of The Discovery, one of three ships at Jamestown.
It was shot from the deck of the Susan Constant.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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Somme

Another war and time, another place
About the foe he had begun to face,
Grant said, “I’ll fight it out upon this line
If it all summer takes till it is mine.”

And following the stubbornness of mules,
The Great War foes fought on like fools
Upon a line along the River Somme
Without the flair of war, without aplomb.
As if a duel with twenty paces stepped,
They stayed while many new-made widows wept
For five long months while each side’s pain
Grew even larger without any gain.
They slogged it out upon that bloody sod
Without a thought to man or even God,
With Germany and all its Axis band
Fixed on the solitary goal of land.
A solemn summer turned to somber fall
And Somme became a soggy grave, a gall
A million drank. And sobbing? – even more,
As Somme showed the futility of war.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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nYAxIQi


The Murdercrats (abortion) say:

The Donald’s a racist and halfwit.
We’ll squash him! Remove him! That foul zit!
But we are a voice
For women – pro-choice.
For we don’t mind murder e’en one bit.

His mouth has more lies than it has spit;
Besides, what we’re for, he’s against it.
While he stands for life,
We’ll give them the knife
For we don’t mind murder e’en one bit.

From outrage that’s moral, our big fit
Is thrown at the worst and Trump is it!,
   While firmly we’ve stood
With Planned Murderhood
For we don’t mind murder e’en one bit.

We’re Murdercrats and we’re proud of it.
The fires of Moloch we will keep lit.
Pro-murder is nice
And we’ll sacrifice
For we don’t mind murder e’en one bit.

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photo by Dez Pain at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nYAxIQi/Blood+Stains+1

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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2dRW0jn

When I still cared and you did not,
Our loving past a fading dot,
I thought I’d die from all the pain.
With all now lost and naught to gain,
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

My heart still filled my veins with blood
But wet my cheeks with teary flood
For you were so much part of me
That parting was a surgery
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

The years we had were swept away
Without another single day
And I was empty as a net
That’s ripped to shreds by raw regret –
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

You never understood my pain;
You never asked that I explain.
You simply turned your back on me
And left me to my misery –
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

My heart still fills and pumps my blood,
But from my eyes pours forth its flood
Our love is like the rose that’s dry,
Is crushed, released to wind to fly.
………..My heart cries tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

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photo by Billy Frank Alexander at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dRW0jn/Broken+Heart

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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hatteras

At Galveston, the Brooklyn saw a ship,
A merchantman? Sent to investigate –
The Hatteras, lest Union blockade’s grip
Be loosened like the shattered ship of state.

The Hatteras gave chase; the sun
Was setting both the sea and sky afire
Until it sank beneath the brine to shun
The same world it had beamed upon as squire.

Into the night, from safety of the day,
The phantom flitted like a butterfly,
Till Union sister ships were far away.
Then stopped, said, “I’m a bee; prepare to die!”

The ship was Alabama from the South.
The Hatteras sank quickly like the sun.
She took the bait till hook was in her mouth,
Then ‘Bama reeled her in and she was done.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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pregnant silhouette

Herr Hitler led the Nazis
To kill six million Jews.
Ukraine was starved by Stalin;
The Times left out that news. 

And Mao? Forty million.
And Leopold just ten.
And Tojo’s tiny numbers
Of five are really thin. 

Gas chambers and the Gulag,
The farms raped of their yields,
Were killing rooms for devils
Like Pol Pot’s killing fields. 

More than did all the monsters
Kill in their bloody quests
Have we in America
Killed while still in their nests. 

Our count? Now sixty million.
And what’s our killing room?
We kill them in their nurs’ry:
We kill them in the womb.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

 

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From where I sit, the wind is getting shrill.
But that is strange, because I look outside
And see the cedars sitting somewhat still,
Their quiet demeanor almost dignified.

Ah! there it is again, a whistle, howl.
My glance is quick; perhaps the cedars move,
But not so much to justify the growl.
The sight I see does not the noise prove.

I put the two together, keep my eyes
Upon the cedar tops thrust up like spears.
A gust then flattens them, to my surprise,
While from the chimney, wind howls for my ears.

Our senses and good sources, hand in hand,
Or ear and eye, join so we understand.


© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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