Maze – haiku by Dennis Allen Lange

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Maze dead end
Frustrates, is painful –
A maze zing.

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photo by Lars Sundstrom at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mifCl0M/Infinite+Maze+2

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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, 2017.

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John Bell Hood Wrecked His Army by Dennis Allen Lange

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Hood battered Sherman’s men to no avail,
Gave up Atlanta, fled, and forged a trail
To Tennessee, his thirty thousand worn
By war and miles, a cob with half its corn. 

At Franklin, Union lines were fortified,
Which checked not John Bell Hood’s aggressive side.
As futile as the clapper ‘gainst the bell,
Hood hammered and six thousand Rebels fell. 

A dozen generals were dead or gone,
And fifty leaders more lay on the lawn.
But Hood was like a moth drawn to a flame,
And hemmed in Nashville with his army lame. 

Blue’s Thomas, turtle-like, took his sweet time,
Then poured forth from the city at his prime.
Gray’s west was flanked; the Rebel line was rolled,
And Hood was done, a story finished, told. 

Hood’s army’s head at Franklin was bereft.
Now, half of half was all that he had left.
Post-Nashville, fewer feet by far remained,
And Hood resigned, his honor ever stained.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

 

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So Near by Emily Dickinson

Except the Heaven had come so near –
So seemed to choose My Door –
The Distance would not haunt me so –
I had not hoped – before –

But just to hear the Grace depart –
I never thought to see –
Afflicts me with a Double loss –
‘Tis lost – And lost to me –

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The Rebel Yell by Dennis Allen Lange

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The Union soldiers heard and knew,
…E’en if they could not see,
A tidal wave was rolling forth
…To pound them dreadfully.

The Gray began their fearsome charge
…With a blood-curdling yell.
Like Furies, they came screaming forth,
…Like demons out of hell.

‘Neath Union blue, it tingled spines;
…‘Neath caps, their hair would stand.
Relentlessly, the tide surged ‘cross
…The narrow strip of land.

Today, the Rebel yell seems lost;
…We have no certain sound.
For though they screamed into the past,
…No echo does rebound.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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And The Most Valued? – haiku by Dennis Allen Lange

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Valued things
Must be safe, secure.
Is your life?

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photo by Dan Shirley at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/miym1ri/padlock

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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, 2017.

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Ichabod by John Greenleaf Whittier

                     Ichabod

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
   Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
   Forevermore! 

Revile him not, the Tempter hath
   A snare for all;
And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,
   Befit his fall! 

Oh, dumb be passion’s stormy rage,
   When he who might
Have lighted up and led his age,
   Falls back in night. 

Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark
   A bright soul driven,
Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,
   From hope and heaven! 

Let not the land once proud of him
   Insult him now,
Nor brand with deeper shame his dim,
   Dishonored brow. 

But let its humbled sons, instead,
   From sea to lake,
A long lament, as for the dead,
   In sadness make. 

Of all we loved and honored, naught
   Save power remains;
A fallen angel’s pride of thought,
   Still strong in chains. 

All else is gone; from those great eyes
   The soul has fled:
When faith is lost, when honor dies,
   The man is dead! 

Then, pay the reverence of old days
   To his dead fame;
Walk backward, with averted gaze,
   And hide the shame!

 

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