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Posts Tagged ‘forgetfulness’

It’s bad enough, that to another room,
I’ll walk with purpose and a steady stride,
And thought will flee like a reluctant groom
Into an unknown distant land and hide. 

But I’ve a fear that I will sometime think
Of what, to me, is the most perfect line,
And ere, on paper, it’s put down in ink,
Like vapor, it will vanish from my mind.


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

 

 

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An older mind is like the keyboard key
That I’ve oft touched just accidentally,
The one that’s at the upper right – insert.
The new appears; the old thoughts then desert.


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

 

 

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No ink is now left in the printer.
Old copies are gone; new ones fail.
The birds have flown south for the winter.

The loved ones are new as they enter;
Each day that they visit’s a veil.
No ink is now left in the printer.

The new leaves their minds like a sprinter;
The old is locked up in a jail.
The birds have flown south for the winter.

The life that remains is a splinter
Though body be hearty and hale.
No ink is now left in the printer.

The spring was not owner, but renter.
Both summer and fall have set sail.
The birds have flown south for the winter.

What’s there is a shell with no center;
The heart’s been torn out of the tale.
No ink is now left in the printer.
The birds have flown south for the winter.

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

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A Penny For Your Thoughts

As I was walking, deep in thought,
   I saw a penny on the ground.
I stooped to pick the copper up;
   Erect, the thought could not be found. 

Oh, well.  It happens all the time.
   As I grow older, thoughts oft fly
As fast as quail burst from their walk,
   As far as rockets pierce the sky. 

At least this time, the shiny cent,
   The cause I chanced to come across,
Is parked still in my pocket, safe,
   And I have payment for my loss.

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photo by tnimalan at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mmYL4cw/One+Penny

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

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Question mark

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)


What Was It?

I had a thought within a room;
Then to another strode.
I could not find it in the next;
‘Twas left along the road.

I hastened to retrace my steps,
To find the place it lay –
Mischievous child that played a game –
Of hide, and run away.

Into the first, where forth it came
Just moments ere it fled
And there I looked around to see,
To search the room, my head.

Both high and low and all around,
Sought, sought! but could not find.
Not only had I lost the thought,
I’d also lost my mind.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

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