Posts Tagged ‘Pain’

The Heart asks Pleasure – first –
And then – Excuse from Pain –
And then – those little Anodynes
That deaden suffering –

And then – to go to sleep –
And then – if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor
The privilege to die –



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The ice cream is before me in the bowl
And suddenly my spoon is far too small.
I need a shovel so to eat it whole
(My Tongue’s the one who makes this urgent call).

Surrendering to it with eager Eyes,
I take a bite and quickly make it two,
And then a third, exulting in the prize
That’s sweet and melts, so I don’t have to chew.

Almost as quick as pleasure is the pain
As though my forehead rammed into a wall,
As though the ice cream climbed into my Brain
Not like the normal foods that take a fall.

The Brain says, “Stop!” The Tongue says to the Hand,
“I want some more.  Now shovel even faster!”
And Hand says, caught between the two commands,
“Who do I listen to?  Who is the master?”


photo by Adrian van Leen at


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


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I suffered not much in the drilling;
E’en better I did with the filling.
But worst was to come –
I asked to be numb
For the pain at the time of the billing.


photo by Marcelo Terraza at


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

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By miracles exceeding power of man,
He faith in some, envy in some begat,
For, what weak spirits admire, ambitions, hate,
In both affections many to him ran,
But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the immaculate,
Whose creature fate is, now prescribe a fate,
Measuring self-life’s infinity to a span
Nay to an inch. Lo, where condemned he
Bears his own cross, with pain, yet by and by
When it bears him, he must bear more and die.
Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee,
And at thy death giving such liberal dole,
Moist, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul.

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How well I knew her not
Whom not to know has been
A Bounty in prospective, now
Next Door to mine the Pain.


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(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I Spot A Spot, My Spot

I’ve noticed that in getting older,
   Things begin to change.
I have grown wiser, but not bolder –
   Yet, I don’t find that strange. 

Perhaps the two are never matching –
   Is it e’er wise to chance?
A fall from heights and you’ll need patching;
   Ask Humpty Dumpty’s aunts. 

I rise some mornings with an aching,
   As though the bed gave blows;
And fingers take so long in waking –
   Old Arthur, I suppose. 

And fewer things on me are working;
   And some that do, not well.
Now what’s that sudden pain, or jerking?
   Is there a voodoo spell? 

And oft these days, I look, am finding
   A spot not there at birth.
Dalmatian, me?  I am not minding
   While I have spot on earth.


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


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The cry of man’s anguish went up to God,
   “Lord, take away pain!
The shadow that darkens the world Thou has made;
   The close, coiling chain
That strangles the heart: the burden that weighs
   On the wings that would soar –
Lord, take away pain from the world Thou hast made
   That it love Thee the more!” 

Then answered the Lord to the cry of the world,
   “Shall I take away pain,
And with it the power of the soul to endure
   Made strong by the strain?
Shall I take away pity that knits heart to heart,
   And sacrifice high?
Will ye lose all your heroes that lift from the fire
   White brows to the sky?
Shall I take away love that redeems with a price,
   And smiles with its loss?
Can ye spare from your lives that would cling unto mine
   The Christ on his cross?”


* found on a hospital wall

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