Rock, Paper, Scissors – haiku by Dennis Allen Lange

–
Barn dwarfs man.
Barn dwarfed by mountains
Which men dwarf.

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photo by Steven Dickinson at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/o744plw/Barn+in+British+Columbia

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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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Rhapsody In Blue – haiku by Dennis Lange

Rhapsody In Blue

Sky lends blue
To mountains below.
Becomes pale.

— 

Blue mountains,
Blue shadows and lights,
Blue valleys.

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photo by marmit at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVkXMAW/Blue+Mountain

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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, 2014.

 

 

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

 

Ohh!  What If?

Just looking
At the photo’s drop
Sends shiver.

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Is A Buggy Too Much?

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

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All Or Nothing

One bouquet
All her hopes and dreams
This moment.

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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

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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, 2014.

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England And Switzerland by William Wordsworth

           England And Switzerland

Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,
One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice;
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!
There came a tyrant, and with holy glee
Thou fought’st against him, – but hast vainly striven:
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
– Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;
– Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left –
For, high-soul’d Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee!

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