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Archive for the ‘Religious’ Category

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

The guns of Truth upon the battlefield
Are such that Error cannot e’er resist
Because it can but faulty weapons wield
That weakly fire, and ev’ry mark is missed. 

Then Error, in embarrassment, retreats
And finds a vacant lot in which to camp.
There, firing guns to not admit defeat,
It trumpets to the wind that it is champ.

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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhiDUcu/Flag

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

 

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puPUCGO

The fragile little child, to me,
Some bubble liquid brought,
And looked to me with big brown eyes
So I knew that I ought

Take out the ring all wet with soap
And put it to my face,
And blow my warm breath out upon
That round and sopping space.

And that I did, and bubbles streamed
Like spheres of glist’ning glass
Escaping from their own round world
To new round world more vast.

Her eyes grew round; her smile was wide;
She watched the bubbles fly
Like dandelions upon the wind.
And she helped make them die.

She reached and poked each that she could
And looked around for more.
But Charon had transported them
O’er to the distant shore.

And in that moment when she learned
There were none left to show,
She sank and loosed a little sigh,
A disappointed “ohh”.

I hate to burst your bubble, girl,
But bubbles do not last.
They’re blown into this waiting world
From which they pass so fast.

It is a lesson that you’ll learn
My little bubbly girl:
That soap or glass or human flesh
Has one quick brittle whirl.

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photo by coolhewitt23 at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/puPUCGO/Nature+bubble

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

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nhnMLRW

One’s silence in his pain prevents a friend
From helping with a word or tender hand,
Producing with its hush a broken mend,
A shimmering mirage on desert sand.

Was reason for the reticence his pride?
Are self-sufficiency and bearing up
What cause a ship and sailors to abide,
Or is it when they share the common cup?

Perhaps ‘twas shame that dammed the quiv’ring lip,
That stopped the flow that others might perceive
As weakness, as a man who’s lost his grip.
The aid was lost; chagrin began to thieve.

A brave front o’er a private misery
May fill one’s purpose, but he pays a fee.

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photo by Mirna Sentic at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nhnMLRW/waiting+on+the+bridge

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

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mif2Y6C

It’s strange how twisted becomes the thinking of men
When their hearts are hardened in the depth of their sin.

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photo by Lars Sundstrom at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mif2Y6C/knot+of+a+kind

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

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nshKofU


There’s little of time to be wasting
Since death is for all of us hasting.
This is a short trial
And in only a while
All men will be resting or basting. 

It may seem that I’m pessimistic,
But no, I’m just realistic.
That way I’ll prepare
With greatest of care
My life not in parts but holistic.

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photo by Patrizio Martorana at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nshKofU/Fire+and+pitchfork

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

 

 

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mA6Smt6

The minor leaguers play for wealth and fame
Or just for pleasure on their daily plate,
Or anything to carry on their name
In hamlets small, or cities that are great.

Ambition is the wind that fills their sail
And drives them toward the only port they see,
Which may not measure much upon a scale –
But forward without knowing, blissfully!

Though some succeed and gain the greater stage
Most toil on in obscurity to fail,
A rueful fact they recognize in age,
And in depression, raise a bitter wail.

But majors hit a fastball none can see
And rarely swing at curves the foe may throw.
The list of contrasts go on endlessly –
So, too, those on the high road, not the low.

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photo by Robert Linder at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mA6Smt6/Dominican+Baseball

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

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n31ZSzw

In your life,
Is there anyone
At the helm?

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photo by Karen Andrews at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/n31ZSzw/ships+wheel

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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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dkxvuv


(a thought for the new year)

 

High in the air, low in the sod –
One’s always in the hands of God.

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photo by Steve Woods at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/dKXvuv/Golden+Girls

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

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p0xyijq


We can, with envy at another look,
As frogs at swans must take a greenish glance.
Our lives, to us, are but an open book,
While theirs seem polished as a ballroom dance.

We see our mirrored marks each morn we wake
While sleep’s ill-fitting shroud still clings like dew.
Through slits, we see the hair before we rake.
And bare?  The flaws that none must see, we rue.

Our words, our acts are all on written page
As well as thoughts none else can ever read.
We know the tiger pacing in the cage.
Man’s blind.  Oh, God!  God sees them!  Ev’ry weed!

With cause, all men at heart are insecure.
The reason is that none of us is pure.

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photo by Craig Phillip at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/p0XyiJQ/Green+Tree+Frog

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

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It’s found sometimes within a furrowed face;
A sneer, a mouth turned down like fangs, a frown;
E’en more in eyes, panes to the hidden place:
A cold hard glint to which ice gives its crown.

It surfaces in words like whales that breach
And wounds without regret, and wracks once more,
Like heartless waves pound piers within their reach
And view the pieces, do naught else but roar.

It is systemic, makes one’s pressure rise,
More prone to heart attacks and crippling strokes,
A venom in the veins of the unwise
A blight that fells the mightiest of oaks.

Hate curdled in the heart spreads through the whole
Till one possession’s left – a poisoned soul.


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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016

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