Posts Tagged ‘ashes’


While that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death’s incessant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at last.  Therefore I gladly trust

My body to this school, that it may learn
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dusty heraldry and lines:
Which dissolution sure doth best discern,
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth.
These laugh at Jet and Marble put for signs,

To sever the good fellowship of dust,
And spoil the meeting.  What shall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem
And true decent; that when thou shall grow fat;

And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know,
That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
Be crumbled into dust.  Mark here below
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust,
That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall.


The photo is mine, a church cemetery in Cade’s Cove
in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee.


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A kitchen with a cook that’s wild
Has flour everywhere.
A layer, white, on counter lays,
And on his hands and hair.

And when we would describe the scene
To let another know
We’d say that all was covered white –
‘Twas blanketed with snow. 

One starts a fire with solid wood,
And things that cannot fly
Since they are solid mass, and weight
Is what they’re anchored by. 

But let the flames lick hungrily,
And heat will upward flow.
Then flake-like ashes from the fire
Fall from the sky like…snow. 

In blizzards, flakes like ashes fall;
The trees are white-capped waves.
The ground becomes the ocean’s foam
Thick like a face man shaves. 

Then all the world is blanketed
And all shapes, rounded, grow.
And we are then without a word,
For what’s like snow is – snow!


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




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