Posts Tagged ‘Mt. Everest” >’


Mom! Dad! Look!
I did it.  I climbed


photo by Florin Florea at


* 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, 2016.


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I’d like a different sky before I die
The southern cross, the magic northern lights,
A tropic moon through palm trees, like a pie,
The jagged blue left by Mt. Everest’s bites.

And from a distance, on the Kansas plain,
I’d like to see a rope descend and swell.
And somewhere in the Rocky Mountain chain
Sit watching while a blizzard works its spell.

I’d like a different path before I die –
Boone-blazed, through Wilderness, his road;
Or tread where elephants against the sky
Crossed Alps with Hannibal their brazen load;

Or march scorched earth – Atlanta to the sea
Where Sherman and his locusts laid all waste;
And contrast that with Paul’s first ministry
Till all his journey I have then retraced.

A different place to stand before I die
Would let me see the world through others’ eyes –
Where first Balboa did Pacific spy,
Where Cook stood looking at his North Pole prize.

I’d like to stand, considering man’s fate
Where Jesus wept o’er doomed Jerusalem;
And look to Earth, and heaven contemplate
From where stood Armstrong on his podium.

I’d like a different me before I die
A little less of all that’s cold and hard,
A serving more of love and humble pie,
A softer me that’s nothing like a shard.

In living then, I must be on my way;
I have no certain schedule like a train.
Tomorrow is not promised, just today.
The now of Time as king will ever reign.


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

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   Falling From The Heights

To be in love’s the grandest thing,
   The highest of the highs,
Like Everest or astronauts,
   Or stars in ebon skies.  

Because love’s on that pedestal,
   The highest perch above
Is why it always hurts so much
   When falling out love.


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


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Everest, Nepal

Everest, Nepal (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What tender touch formed butterflies
   And rosy petals drenched with dew?         
What artist painted morning skies,         
   Composed, carved, sketched, sculpted, and drew?

The same arm flung the stars like sand;          
   His shoulders thrust up Everest.         
A word, mere word – sun’s flame was fanned;          
   Sequoias, beasts - and earth was dressed.

Soft rabbit’s fur, rough rhino’s hide;          
   Wee hummingbird; giant dinosaur;     
The same hand made the hawk to glide           
   That made the mighty ocean roar.        

Twas One created great and small,                                             
   He with a fist and tender touch -                    
The God of wrath who’ll judge us all            
   The God of love we love so much.


photo by r hyland


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

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