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Posts Tagged ‘Dennis Allen Lange’

2dRfnhK

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Warm whirlpool,
And it sucked under
Crayon box.

——————–

photo by Lynne Lancaster at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dRfnhK/Rainbow+Pool

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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, 2018.

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2dRW0jn

When I still cared and you did not,
Our loving past a fading dot,
I thought I’d die from all the pain.
With all now lost and naught to gain,
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

My heart still filled my veins with blood
But wet my cheeks with teary flood
For you were so much part of me
That parting was a surgery
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

The years we had were swept away
Without another single day
And I was empty as a net
That’s ripped to shreds by raw regret –
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

You never understood my pain;
You never asked that I explain.
You simply turned your back on me
And left me to my misery –
………..My heart cried tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

My heart still fills and pumps my blood,
But from my eyes pours forth its flood
Our love is like the rose that’s dry,
Is crushed, released to wind to fly.
………..My heart cries tears.

Chorus:
They fell like raindrops from the sky;

They flowed like rivers rushing by,
And in their ocean I will die.

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photo by Billy Frank Alexander at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dRW0jn/Broken+Heart

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

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Morning on Winter Landscape

Cold blankets
Lay over the land:
Snow, fog, clouds.

— 

In winter
Even evergreens
Become white.

— 

One appears
To me in my mind –
Zhivago.

——————–

photo by Andreas Krappweis at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVICJna/Morning+on+Winter+Landscape

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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, 2018.

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hatteras

At Galveston, the Brooklyn saw a ship,
A merchantman? Sent to investigate –
The Hatteras, lest Union blockade’s grip
Be loosened like the shattered ship of state.

The Hatteras gave chase; the sun
Was setting both the sea and sky afire
Until it sank beneath the brine to shun
The same world it had beamed upon as squire.

Into the night, from safety of the day,
The phantom flitted like a butterfly,
Till Union sister ships were far away.
Then stopped, said, “I’m a bee; prepare to die!”

The ship was Alabama from the South.
The Hatteras sank quickly like the sun.
She took the bait till hook was in her mouth,
Then ‘Bama reeled her in and she was done.

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

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ppLzdd0

Lawmakers
Must do own taxes
With no help.

——————– 

Anything
More convoluted
Than tax forms?

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photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ppLzdd0/taxation+optimism2

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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/

——————————-

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

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pregnant silhouette

Herr Hitler led the Nazis
To kill six million Jews.
Ukraine was starved by Stalin;
The Times left out that news. 

And Mao? Forty million.
And Leopold just ten.
And Tojo’s tiny numbers
Of five are really thin. 

Gas chambers and the Gulag,
The farms raped of their yields,
Were killing rooms for devils
Like Pol Pot’s killing fields. 

More than did all the monsters
Kill in their bloody quests
Have we in America
Killed while still in their nests. 

Our count? Now sixty million.
And what’s our killing room?
We kill them in their nurs’ry:
We kill them in the womb.

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

 

 

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mifmMlg

Fighter plane,
Propeller and wings –
It’s diving! 

——————– 

photo Lars Sundstrom at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mifmMlg/Barb+Wire+Closeup

——————–

* 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/

—————————–

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

 

 

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18722055699_b02b6f1d37_o_1

From where I sit, the wind is getting shrill.
But that is strange, because I look outside
And see the cedars sitting somewhat still,
Their quiet demeanor almost dignified.

Ah! there it is again, a whistle, howl.
My glance is quick; perhaps the cedars move,
But not so much to justify the growl.
The sight I see does not the noise prove.

I put the two together, keep my eyes
Upon the cedar tops thrust up like spears.
A gust then flattens them, to my surprise,
While from the chimney, wind howls for my ears.

Our senses and good sources, hand in hand,
Or ear and eye, join so we understand.


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

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mtJHdU6


No sunsets
Make the world aglow,
But lovesets.

——————–

photo by Gabriella Fabbri at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mtJHdU6/love+in+the+sunset

——————–

* 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/

——————–

© 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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