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Posts Tagged ‘mother’

The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,
Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father, in white. 

He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.

 

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Morning call.
There was no answer.
I wondered.

Appointment?
Maybe. Trip to bank?
Possible.

Further thoughts:
Bathroom? Outside, for
Newspaper?

The phone rang.
I saw my aunt’s name –
And I knew.

Not good news.
How bad is the bad?
Broken hip.

Fell outside
While picking up the
Newspaper.

I wonder –
At ninety, will she
Walk again?

 

——————–

* 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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All Mothers But One

Nested dolls –
Larger to the next
Is mother.

——————-

 

Who’s Your Daddy?

He buzzes
Like all the insects –
Crop duster.

——————–

 

When Our Day Is Over

At sunset
All boats are this way –
Abandoned.

——————-

Mothers – photo by Leslie Watts at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dR8Cnn/Russian+Dolls

Daddy – photo by Ariel da Silva Parreira at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhgmSfO/Fumigation+airplane

Day – photo by Johnny Berg at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nINl2h6/Stranded+-+HDR

 

——————–

* 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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Close To Home

There’s safety
That’s often found in
Mom’s shadow.

——————–

 

Blown By A Western Wind

A bird?  Plane?
What flies through the air?
Cowboy kite.

——————–

 

The Ben Franklin Match Said

One by one
We’ll burn or we’ll burn
Together.

——————–

Close – photo by Miguel Saavedra at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mDzLufs/Peahen+%26+brood

Blown – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhizsjY/Hat

Franklin – photo by Miguel Saavedra at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/1mQUWZ/Matchbox+2

——————–

* 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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Pigeon Play

Game over:
I’m number one.  You’re
Number two.

——————–


The Lifeguard

Beginners,
But they’re naturals.
Relax, Mom.

———————


Spider Wealth

In the web,
A morning treasure –
Dew diamonds.

———————

Pigeon – photo by Kevin Tuck at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mvX6u1q/White+pigeons

Lifeguard – photo by Mirna Sentic at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mzMC3KU/duck+and+ducklings

Wealth – photo by Marja Flick-Buijs at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mEcYA1I/Spider

——————–

* 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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A small cross by the busy road, above a tiny mound –
It seems an extra daisy to the travelers homeward bound
Who speed their ways to destinies without a second thought,
Of just another cup of sorrow that the journey brought –
…….Just a mother’s broken heart.

It lies beneath the ocean like a corpse beneath the sheets –
A sunken, sullen hull that not a sailor ever greets.
Its captain was not called by either king or queen to court;
Just another ship that sailed that did not reach its port –
…….Just a dreamer’s broken heart.

We miss the mark of moodiness within his distant look,
And in the sigh that wishes for the time two lovers took
To hold each other tenderly within a blissful swoon.
But now he’s just a darkened sky that never holds a moon –
…….Just another broken heart.

The love that has been offered like a hand stretched out to shake
On a hill that’s not remembered in daily trips we take,
Was fastened by the nails of Rome amid the quaking gloom.
He’s just another casualty for which we’ve scarcely room –
…….Just the Father’s broken heart.

If at the end of life, or even at the close of day,
I find, reflecting, that my time was simply passed in play,
Or small pursuits, or habits harmful in their thoughtlessness,
Then I become, in selling my life’s universe for less –
…….Just another broken heart.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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