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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

ol0Xfew

In centers of cities, there’s often a park;
And there grow the flowers, and there flies the lark.
Oasis it is in the midst of the bare,
The succor of people o’erladen with care.

And often they flee from the concrete and steel
To mountains or valleys, with skis or a reel,
Pursuing relief from the meaningless grind,
In search of a something that gives peace of mind.

The cells they call home, made by man and machine,
They garland with flowers and garnish with green.
Internally driven, unknowing, they quest
For road to return to their root and its rest.

To nature, away from the things made by man,
Is going to God anyway that we can.

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Photo by Hanspeter Klasser at
https://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ol0Xfew/Park+scene

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2020.

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21624063354_217c9db89a_o

In trees I walked at Smoky’s feet,
And calm the forest floor.
‘Twas late October and the leaves
All Autumn’s colors wore.

It rained a bit the night before,
And though the earth was damp,
My shoes did not pick up the mud
While on my silent tramp.

The fallen leaves well-paved my path;
They made a yellow way
That Dorothy’d been proud to walk
In Oz in her brief stay.

The leaf-laid carpet and that trail
‘Twas all my eyes could see,
The forest closed out all the world
And I was cloistered, free.

There was a great serenity
With Nature as I walked.
I listened as my soft steps fell,
And as the forest talked.

I passed a stream; it gurgled peace,
Caught drops of last night’s rain –
A few that fin’lly fell – but why?
(The reason not yet plain.)

I saw another mystery;
It struck me as most odd.
A leaf, then two, came floating down
As slow as turtles plod.

I saw then, out among the trees,
One here, another there.
First glance, they seemed like butterflies
With wings in disrepair.

They did not scurry, did not slant;
Their vertical was straight,
As if they were a dropping stone –
And yet they had no weight.

I took the line of their descent;
Gazed upward where the trees
All disappeared from sight by height –
And then I saw the breeze!

And then I knew why raindrops fell
When there was no more mist,
And why the leaves were shaken loose
But fell without a twist.

How isolated I felt then!
The world was not about.
And now I knew that Nature, too,
E’en Nature had shut out.

Like spiders coming down a strand,
The leaves did downward crawl.
And watching their descent I knew
Why men call Autumn, Fall.

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The photo is mine and was taken in Smoky Mt. National Park.

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

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And this place our forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us –
Most innocent, perhaps – and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivell’d up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back into his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt; till changed to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague spot.
Then we call in our pamper’d mountebanks –
And this is their best cure! Uncomforted.

And friendless solitude, groaning and tears.
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the streams and vapour of his dungeon,
By the lamp’s dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
By sights of ever more deformity!

With other ministrations thou, O nature!
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences.
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sheets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Till he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit healed and harmonized
By the benignant touch of love and beauty.

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If It’s Not Too Much Trouble

I want one –
Perfect one, far left,
Bottom row.

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Barren Branch

Midst of life,
Among all the green,
A deadness.

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Beauty That Flies

Men may fly,
And color their planes,
Ne’er matching.

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Trouble – photo by Miriam Wickett at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nqWRoas/vegetable+stand

Barren – photo by Sandra Cunningham at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mBZDf6i/Dead+branch

Beauty – photo by Kevin Tuck at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nCsE4X0/Butterfly

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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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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How clear is the water that’s speeding along!
How sweet is its rushing! How sweet is its song! –
The slope of the mountain supplying the pace,
Soprano and tenor and touches of bass.

How cold is the water that comes down the hill,
That runs from the snow and keeps some of its chill!
It runs o’er the rocks and is filtered and clean,
Like nature less man’s touch, so pure and pristine. 

How blessed are the people who live on the way
The stream takes in running to ocean or bay!
They sit at the table where it cuts – a knife –
And drink freely from its swift waters of life.

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photo by Andreas Krappweis at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVIvZnG/Mountain+Creek+and+setting+Sun

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

 

 

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………

Sonnet 52 – The Tide Of Spring

The tide of Spring comes washing through the woods
Pushed by the vernal moon, pulled by our pining.
As welcome as a million Robin Hoods,
The youthful paint’s a feast for our eyes’ dining.

What merriment it puts into our hearts!
What joy that Nature once again is living!
The cold dry husk that’s Earth flies wide apart;
We view the riches it is ever giving.

When Winter leaves a hemisphere behind,
A weight is gone; a burden has been lifted.
Gone is its rude assault on body, mind;
The harshness to another half is shifted.

We’re stirred by Spring since life begins anew;
Hope is fulfilled with the most lovely view.

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photo by Kevin Tuck at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nxHKzle/Woodland+flowers+in+spring ——————–

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

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The Morning after Woe –
‘Tis frequently the Way –
Surpasses all that rose before –
For utter Jubilee – 

As Nature did not care –
And piled her Blossoms on –
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon – 

The Birds declaim their Tunes –
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers – Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead – 

On here and there – a creature –
They’d modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef –
Some Key of Calvary –

 

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………………..Sonnet 126

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time’s fickle glass, his sickle hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’st
Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow’st –
If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack),
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure;
Her audit, though delay’d answer’d must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.

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trees for mannequin     

The winter trees are bleak and bare,
   Stripped by the fingers cold
That came along and left them nude,
   Like shorn sheep in a fold. 

In nature’s wide department store,
   In windows on display,
They stand as naked mannequins
   In their undressed array. 

But world will wake one day to see
   A sight astonishing –
The shiv’ring trees with leaves once more,
   Dressed wondrously by Spring.

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I wrote this while eating lunch in a cafe recently.  My
mind, for some reason, could not come up with the word
“mannequin”.  I asked Crystal, my waitress, and she
gave it to me immediately and I was able to finish the
the poem before I left.  I decided later to name it with
the word I couldn’t remember.  Thanks, Crystal!

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The photo is mine, of trees along the Guadalupe River in Texas.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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Praying Mantis

Thank you, God
For this grasshopper.
Yum, yum, yum.

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Beauty Welcomed

Red rose bud
Blessed by morning dew
Now, bless world.

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Falling, Fleeting

Life slips through
Some careless fingers
Like the sand.

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Mantis – photo by sulaco229 (Robert) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mCPwDVe/Praying+Mantis+eating+Grasshop

Beauty – photo by Luz Maria Espinoza at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mixd096/Pink+rose

Falling – photo by melodi2 (Lee) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mjYBtAY/Sand+in+the+hand

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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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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