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Posts Tagged ‘Dennis Allen Lange’

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Progress, yet
Read, write, ‘rithmetic
Still the core.

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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, 2019.

 

 

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snow 2
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Glum Winter’s clouds are seamless, smooth,
No hint of smile, no twinkles.
The cold winds in the sky above
Have ironed out all the wrinkles.

They never have a cheery gleam
From sunshine on their faces.
Instead, cold Winter says to march
And puts them through their paces.

They seem to be an enemy,
Cold, brusque, and so unfeeling,
That hover where the blue once was
As an unwelcome ceiling.

Yet they are much more friendly than
A man who once was neighbor
To whom all others were a pain
And happiness a labor.

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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Rogue River
Drops into Rogue Gorge
Roguishly

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The photo is mine of the Rogue River in Oregon as it enters Rogue Gorge.

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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, 2019.

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engine light

My engine light is on; I groan.
What could the matter be?
Will I be like the mariner,
Left stranded in the sea?

Will noises from my car be next –
A rattle and a knock?
Is there a crack developing
In my car’s engine block?

The engine light stares/glares at me
As I drive down the road.
Is trouble ticking like a bomb
To in my face explode?

Whew! Safely home, the light still on,
Mechanic I will see
To diagnose my awful plight
And its severity.

I’m fin’lly told, when I have been
By worry driven mad,
The engine light was telling me
The engine light was bad.

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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I confess:
I’m hooked on Texas.
Like the fish.

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The photo is mine, of the statue of a fish in a nearby park.

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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, 2019.

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antifa


The Brown Shirts, the Klu Klux – both losers,
And so is Antifa, the bruisers.
They’re wearing a hood;
They’re up to no good.
The Left is for those thugs excusers.

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photo by Carptrash – I, Einar Kvaran, took the picturePreviously published: none, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80084419

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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mfjnvty.jpg

Wooden witch –
I wooden want her
As neighbor.

The witch called,
“Here, kitty kitty.”
Wooden come.

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photo by Michael & Christa Richert at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mfjNVtY/witch+figurine

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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, 2019.

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oosvh1O

Since life is but a mist that burns away,
A blossom that delights a day, then goes.
And since the barn’s ablaze and we are hay,
The condor e’er awaits because it knows.

We’re helpless ‘fore the ever watching eyes;
Each is exposed as in the noonday sun
One’s shadow clings no matter how he tries –
Appointment in Samarra – none can run.

Death perches near to pluck our bodies bare,
Bereft of life as idols are of gods.
The sword of Damocles hangs by a hair;
Grim Reaper, with his scythe, fore’er marauds.

Death’s always hanging over each of us;
Its touch before is slight, then ponderous.

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photo by Elvis Santana at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oosvh1O/california+condor+2

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

 

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mtJN2xi

Proud of pounds –
The renowned round mound:
Pregnancy.

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photo by Gabriella Fabbri at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mtJN2xi/Waiting+a+baby

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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, 2019.

 

 

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nWWdhGs

I remember, I remember
The seat we shared and when,
And watched the world go racing by
And racing by again.
It mattered not how fast it ran,
How rough turned out the ride
On rocket ship or Rattler,
When we were side by side.

I remember, I remember
When you came to my door.
And searched me out till I was found,
Like treasure one hunts for.
I love you for the worth you gave
To my life in that quest,
That out of all the others there,
That you loved me the best.

I remember, I remember
The moment that I knew,
When we met within the halls,
I was in love with you.
Without a thought of where we were,
I started to reach out
And wrap you up inside my arms,
But others were about.

I remember, I remember
A very special place,
Where I so gently raised your chin;
And then a warm embrace.
There, I was lost as man can be
Within your whirlpool eyes,
And magic of your gentle touch,
The wonder of your sighs.

I remember, I remember
The secrets that we shared,
A knowing wink across the room
That showed each of us cared.
And when someone came in our space,
And broke the fragile bond,
We sighed for our own loneliness
And wished that he were gone.

I remember, I remember
The stories that you told
Of your life, trusting it to me
To have, and safely hold.
And in those tales, I heard of one
Who sought an inner peace,
And found some ways that did not work
And vowed that they would cease.

I remember, I remember
The things that did not last,
That aren’t now flesh, but fingerprints
That mark what is the past.
Those are the things that are no more;
And mourn for them I must.
The only thing that keeps me sane,
And this alone I trust –

That I’ll remember; I’ll remember.

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photo by Dez Pain at https://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nWWdhGs/Valentine+Cats+4

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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