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Posts Tagged ‘flowers’

pbBdSf6

Together
On a single neck –
Flamingos.

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photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/pbBdSf6/rain+on+tropical+flowers9

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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, 2017.

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2dtmh7u

Daytime stars,
Their light from the sun.
God’s glory.

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photo by Christine Landis at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dtmH7U/Colors

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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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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Let’s Go!

Through sitting.
Head for the water.
Take a dip.

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Roosting And Resting

Long-beaked birds
Watching the sunset.
Whooping cranes?

——————–

 

Flower Flow

Man’s blossom.
Watering so that
Beauty blooms.

——————–

Go – photo by Kevin Tuck at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/po9mCKW/Pond+with+geese

Roosting – photo by Littleman (Jef) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ml6lIVU/Crane

Flow – photo by Gesine Kuhlmann at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nCvlk7I/Flower+shower

——————–

* 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, 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.

———————

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
———————
* 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, 2016.

 

 

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Within a hundred yards of where
One left this earth’s abode,
And flowers mourn that cyclist’s death,
A sign says, “Share the road.”

——————————————-

 

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

 

 

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A blue wave
Of Union soldiers
At the gray.

— 

Sides engage;
The fighting rages –
Red carpet.

— 

Then, the graves
Both Union, Rebel
Flower strewn.

photo by Phil Edon at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mXPElMW/Bluebell+woods

———————–

 

* 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, 2015.

 

 

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Lupin

Sunlight climbs
A tiny tower –
Pink glory.

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Primula

Two-colored
Bouquet of bouquets,
God-gathered.

——————– 

 

Pansies

Aren’t pansies.
For us, they always
Bleed colors.

——————–

Lupin – photo by Maciej Lewandowski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oGGRpma/Lupin

Primula – photo by Michael and Christa Richert at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/p6eFPty/colourful+primula

Pansies – photo by Jay Simmons at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nx8V8wc/flowers

——————–

 

* 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, 2015.

 

 

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The Yellow Violet

When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird’s warble know,
The yellow violet’s modest bell
Peeps from the last year’s leaves below.

Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the virgin air.

Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank’s edges cold.

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip,
Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.

Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.

Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.

So they, who climb to wealth, forget
The friends in darker fortunes tried.
I copied them – but I regret
That I should ape the ways of pride.

And when again the genial hour
Awakes the painted tribes of light,
I’ll not o’er look the modest flower
That made the woods of April bright.

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