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Posts Tagged ‘fear’

She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
She has counted six and over,
Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried –
Oh each a worthy lover!
They “give her time”; for her soul must slip
Where the world has set the grooving:
She will lie to none with her fair red lip –
But love seeks truer loving.

She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb,
As her thoughts were beyond recalling,
With a glance for one, and a glance for some,
For her eyelids rising and falling;
Speaks common words with a blushful air,
Hears bold words, unreproving
But her silence says – what she never will swear –
And love seeks better loving.

Go, lady, lean to the night-guitar,
And drop a smile to the bringer,
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of an indoor singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
Glance lightly on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries –
But dare not call it loving.

Unless you can think, when the song is done,
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by one,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear, “For life, for death!” –
Oh fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day,
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past –
Oh never call it loving!

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She perches on a little limb;
Her nurtured nest still near.
Her world was big enough, but now
It opens to a fear.

Her still-protected cluttered life
Has reached an edge, a change
And all she’s known surrounds her, close,
And all ahead is strange.

Her life was land; will now be sea –
Each step was with a guide.
But now the waves will roll and foam –
The ocean’s deep and wide!

The nest and little limb’s to launch
Her to the great expanse.
And there, for all, lies life’s large test,
Its danger and romance.

To fall in love, or plan, succeed,
Is ev’ry sailor’s dream.
But when alone one falls from heights,
A failure seems supreme.

The ocean is a vast unknown;
Its surface seems so calm.
But somewhere swim the sharks that feed
And storms that shake the palm.

Beyond horizon, one may lurk –
The other, past a wave.
And somewhere on the open sea
There is a waiting grave.

She perches on the little limb
And peers out to the sea.
What’s hiding there?  What waits beyond?
What wind, and what degree?

But treasure’s there, and pleasure’s there,
Life’s riches to take hold.
There’s danger for the careless ones;
Adventure for the bold.

Now, little bird on little limb,
Your nest will testify
You’re strong, prepared; time for the brave –
God gave you wings, so fly!

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photo by Miguel Saavedra at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/naSb0nk/Grasses+%26+bird

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

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Ohh!  What If?

Just looking
At the photo’s drop
Sends shiver.

——————–

 

 

Is A Buggy Too Much?

Progress stopped
At one point in time.
But why then?

——————–

 

 

All Or Nothing

One bouquet
All her hopes and dreams
This moment.

——————–

Ohh – photo by Karunakar Rayker at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dkzJ5Y/Trekking

Buggy – photo by John Boyer at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ml1d9E4/Gas+Free

All – photo by Bill Davenport at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mg1SPr4/Pure+White

——————–

* 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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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Stoney End Brittany Double-Strung Lap Harp in ...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

             The Master-Player

 An old, worn harp that had been played
Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
To play.  But each in turn had found
No sweet responsiveness of sound.

Then Love the Master-Player came
With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
The Harp he took all undismayed,
Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
And brought forth music sweet and strong.

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