Posts Tagged ‘day’


A Kennedy, a Kennedy, and King –
Three K’s for strikes and all were struck, struck out.
A nation also felt the bullets’ sting.

Before the wheat was ripe, the sickle’s swing
Cut through the taller heads a deadly route –
A Kennedy, a Kennedy, and King.

Each had a following to closely cling
To them, and ‘cause they were deeply devout,
A nation also felt the bullets’ sting.

To be a vital part, then from us wring
Brought tears to eyes, e’en those dried up in drought
For Kennedy, a Kennedy, and King.

The bells, the solemn bells for them did ring
And stilled the song and buried ev’ry shout –
A nation also felt the bullets’ sting.

A deadly fall and summer, deadly spring
In years so close we suffered from the clout –
A Kennedy, a Kennedy, and King
And nation also felt the bullets’ sting.


photo from Wikipedia


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


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King dreamed that he would say (when chains were past
Or strands so thin and few), these words long overdue,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Though Egypt was behind, her reach was vast.
And like the wind, he blew winged words that fell like dew.
King dreamed a dream when all the chains were past.

His voice was Gabriel’s mighty trumpet blast;
The march began on cue, toward Canaan’s words and view,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

His dream? – by hate and pharaohs not harassed;
Men judged, not by their hue; a future bright and new.
King dreamed a dream when all the chains were past.

Upon the farther shore, his people massed,
The sea returned and blue, they’d shout because they knew,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Let go the broken chains! Away, them cast!
The speech and dream came true, for all who dare and do.
And now men say, since all their chains are past:
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”


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

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The Sun arises in the East
Cloth’d in robes of blood and gold
Swords and spears and wrath increast
All around his bosom roll’d,
Crown’d with warlike fires and raging desires.


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Sonnet 70 – Pi


…………3/14/15 at 9:26:53

Though not repeating in infinity,
This ratio: circumference
To its diameter, we all shall see,
A strand of pearls in all its elegance.

This year on three/fourteen, the hour nine,
Plus minutes – twenty six, and some ticks more:
Exactly fifty-three on down the line,
Will be a day of mathematics lore.

A Super Bowl, the Oscars, Nobel Prize –
That day will be the day to top all days.
Appearing to the number lover’s eyes,
A million dollar slot machine that pays.

Pi Day I’ll celebrate with pie, a slice –
Pecan or buttermilk would be quite nice.



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

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Faster and more fast
O’er night’s brim, day boils at last:
Boils, pure gold, o’er the cloud-cap’s brim
Where spurting and suppressed it lay,
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray
Of the eastern cloud, an hour away;
But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,
Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,
Rose, reddened, and its seething breast
Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world.


photo by Sias van Schalkwyk at



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The lights blink out in this dark world;
A viral blackness spread
By a contagion devil-hurled,
With hearts its breeding bed.

The darkness never knows the light;
The two can’t co-exist.
Night’s never day, day never night;
Impossible a tryst.

Before light, darkness has no might;
A distant glimpse – it flees.
It cannot offer any fight,
Nor beg upon its knees.

The dark compares itself to night,
And rates itself quite high.
For blackness thinks that it is white
Since light is never nigh.

The Lord God’s like the brightest day,
No shadow or a cloud
Moves o’er His just and holy way.
No darkness is allowed.

So men who love the darkness flee;
They hide till He appears.
They will His brightness briefly see,
Then evermore shed tears.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

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