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Posts Tagged ‘death’

Mortally Wounded and Sinking

Japan bombed Pearl, won by a crooked score.
Though U.S. fleet was famed, they left it sunk and maimed.
But cost to Japs and Germany was more. 

The Japs pretended peace instead of war.
With many subtle lies, they took us by surprise.
Japan bombed Pearl, won by a crooked score. 

Our sailors did not hear the distant roar
Till death was overhead, and bombs were in their bed.
But cost to Japs and Germany was more. 

The Arizona sank to harbor’s floor
Eight battleships were hit; war’s fire by them was lit.
Japan bombed Pearl, won by a crooked score. 

Two thousand U.S. (more!) went out death’s door.
Japan lost but a few of all the ones that flew.
Still, cost to Japs and Germany was more. 

True victors are the ones when war is o’er
Not at the rising sun when war has just begun.
Japan that day won by a crooked score,
But cost both them and Germany the war.

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

 

 

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raven

On Friday, cars were parked along the road.
The next day saw their silent numbers swell,
Drawn there as if they’d heard the black bird’d crowed,
Pulled by the pealing of a solemn bell. 

That Sunday was the same, but Monday more.
They filled the drive, parked curb-side by the house.
The street was narrowed by that swelling shore
Which forced a car to creep by like a mouse. 

By then, I knew what I had not been told,
The dreadful news for family and friend –
That Winter’s wind had blown, and growing cold
Was some soul who’d been sick but could not mend. 

Days later, I passed by; the cars were gone.
The mystery was solved for I could see
The novice widow walking on her lawn
With only her small dog as company.

He’d built my house and now he is no more.
My house still stands; ‘tis he in disrepair.
We mortals, not the mortar, go before.
We each will leave our all to Earth, our heir.

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photo by Guenter M. Kirchweger at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/omDmxpC/raven

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

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O touch me with your hands –
………………….For pity’s sake!
My brow throbs ever on with such an ache
As only your cool touch may take away;
………………….And so, I pray
You, touch me with your hands!

Touch – touch me with your hands –
…………………..Smooth back the hair
You once caressed, and kissed, and called so fair
That I did dream its gold would wear away,
…………………..And lo, to-day –
O touch me with your hands!

Just touch me with your hands,
…………………..And let them pass
My weary eyelids with the old caress,
And lull me till I sleep. Then go your way,
…………………..That Death may say:
He touched her with his hands.

 

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No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven’s glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. 

O God, within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life – that in me has rest,
As I -undying Life – have power in Thee! 

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main, 

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality,

With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears. 

Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou were left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou – Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

 

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Departed – to the Judgment –
A Mighty Afternoon –
Great Clouds – like Ushers – leaning –
Creation – looking on –

The Flesh – Surrendered – Cancelled –
The Bodiless – begun –
Two Worlds – like Audiences – disperse –
And leave the Soul – alone –

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church-cemetery

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.


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

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She will not smile;
She will not stir;
I marvel while
I look on her.
……The lips are chilly
……And will not speak;
The ghost of a lily
……In either cheek.

Her hair – ah me!
Her hair – her hair!
How helplessly
My hands go there!
……But my caresses
……Meet not hers,
O golden tresses
……That thread my tears!

I kiss the eyes
On either lid,
Where her love lies
Forever hid.
……I cease my weeping
……And smile and say:
I will be sleeping
……Thus, some day!

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John Sedgwick, to his frightened men,
“Why dodge a single bee?
What will you do in battle, boys,
When swarms come after thee?” 

“At this range, e’en an elephant
Would certainly be missed.
Why think ye then your rosy cheek
Could possibly be kissed?” 

And he sat tall upon his mount
To prove what he had said,
Until the sniper shot at him
And Sedgwick fell down, dead.

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The ironic death of Major General John Sedgwick
of the Union army came on May 9, 1864 at the
Battle of Spotsylvania Court House in Virginia. 

http://www.civilwarhome.com/sedgwickdeath.htm

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

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This time sticks, and most times stones
Raised above one’s flesh and bones.
Markers for those who are left,
O’er the one of whom bereft.
Stakes of wood will rot, decay.
Stones last longer (one horse shay).
Mourners, though, are like the wood
Cannot stay like stones will, should.
Markers, then, of wood are fine.
Mourners’ time with them align.

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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nq1PRjw/Graveyard

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

 

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Saluting Lenin

A coin
Salutes cause of great
Misery.

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Beached

Those beached whales
Are just mimicking
Fishing boats.

——————–

 

Most Precious

Yellow bloom
Midst yellow flowers
Growing child.

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Lenin – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhiyq0I/Lenin%27s+decoration

Beached – photo by jonfletch (Jon) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/moQdcT0/Fishing+Boat

Precious – photo by Maciej Lewandowski at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf90Iye/Flowers
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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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

 

 

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