The Bubbly One by Dennis Allen Lange

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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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Not Dateable by Dennis Lange

I don’t know what he saw in her,
…Or what she saw in him.
But like the garbage and the trash,
…The two became a “them”.

And I’m not saying they weren’t matched,
…Or that they ought not pair.
It’s just that neither was a catch,
…And neither rich, or fair.

And don’t mistake the last as praise
…As faint as Texas fog
At noon on any summer day,
…Or faint as hair on frogs.

There are those whom all know excel
…In one or many ways.
There are those whom we all can tell
…Of something less to praise.

But sometimes we just shake our heads
…And cluck-cluck like a hen
At people who are thorough breads –
…The heels with naught to win.

At lunch, she bit her nails and spat;
…She ate, and picked her nose.
To pick and eat is worse than that –
…And that’s the way he chose.

He’d laugh and snort just like a horse;
…She’d whinny in reply.
And both were wheezing in due course
…As if they both might die.

He’d eat a fruit and toss the peel
…Behind him on the floor.
She’d pick them up and make a meal
…When he tossed number four.

They were great athletes of a kind.
…After the licks and slurps,
They’d reach down deep to see who’d find
…The longest, loudest burps.

They both drank beer and bellies grew
…Like bubbles blown with gum.
They’d lift their shirts, those zany two,
…Laugh, beat them like a drum.

Their teeth were snaggled like a fence
…Of broken, rotted boards.
Stains made their mouths both dark and dense –
…Tobacco’s chewed rewards.

They made a pretty pair of mates,
…A pretty awful pair.
They both were truly heavyweights,
…A duo ripe and rare.

We’re glad, that paired, they found their groove.
…We owe them greatest thanks.
In marrying, they did remove
…Each other from the ranks.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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