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milkay4

(sent in Christmas cards 2015)

The colors red and green, those two,
Are Christmas colors, yuletide’s cue,
As though its season after fall
Invites us to another ball.

Green is the holly; green the tree,
And green some stockings that we see.
Green is the mistletoe we hang;
From which some Christmas kissing sprang.

Red are the balls upon the tree;
Red are some stockings filled with glee.
Red’s Santa in his jolly suit,
Until he slides down chimney’s chute.

When put together, red and green,
Have one important thing they mean:
A treasure stored up in the heart
That one adds to, but will not part.

We often dream of one more hue
A blanket thicker than the dew –
A coat of snow that covers all,
A Christmas white that will enthrall.

But topped or not with whipping cream,
Our faces fill with Christmas gleam.
It leaves for us a colored print
Of just how much the season meant.

——————————–

photo by Michael Pohl at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mILkay4/Christmas+Bubbles

——————————–
© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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 2dk0Gxl

Dear God, I’m caused to worship Thee
Not by the great things made by man
But what I see ‘twas made by Thee
And that includes Your glorious tree. 

Dear God, that I might worship Thee,
I do not need the chapel’s wall,
But only what you made, the tree.
And underneath, I’ll worship Thee. 

Dear God, I’m free to worship Thee
Not by the goodness of my hands
But only by the love in Thee
That gave your Son upon a tree.

—————————————–

photo by Agnes Scholiers at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dk0Gxl/Chapel

—————————————–

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

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Although I shelter from the rain
Under a broken tree,
My chair was nearest to the fire
In every company
That talked of love or politics,
Ere Time transfigured me. 

Though lads are making pikes again
For some conspiracy,
And crazy rascals rage their fill
At human tyranny;
My contemplations are of Time
That has transfigured me. 

There’s not a woman turns her face
Upon a broken tree,
And yet the beauties that I loved
Are in my memory;
I spit into the face of Time
That has transfigured me.

 

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A Closing Conversation

Not “good night”,
But tree gives sun thanks
For good day.

“Needed that,”
Said tree.  And the sun,
“You’re welcome.”

And those two
Bid each other bye
Till morrow.

——————–

photo by Steve Woods at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhAbYVY/Sun+Down

——————–

* 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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‘Tis The Season
(Christmas 2013) 

Christmas tree,
Package bright
Star atop,
Silent night. 

Snow may fall
Bells will ring
Mistletoe,
Children sing. 

Making candy,
Shoot the breeze;
Building bonds,
Memories.

——————-
*I sent this poem in Christmas cards I mailed in 2013.

——————-

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

 

 

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A Cloud? Who Cares?

These two are
Definitely not
Storm chasers.

——————–

 

New York City

Democrats?
Republicans? No,
Taxis rule.

——————–

 

They Shine

Sun’s glory
Reveals and highlights
Tree’s glory.

———————

Cloud – photo by Constantin Jurcut at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/meT6uAo/cows

NYC – photo by Ivo Bouwmans at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nzdA3OY/New+York+Taxis

Shine – photo by Cristiano Galbiati at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/meLmm6K/africa+sunset+1

———————

* 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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It was six men of Hindustan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind)
That each by observation
Might satisfy the mind.

The First approached the Elephant
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side
At once began to bawl:
“Bless me, it seems the Elephant
Is very like a wall.”

The Second, feeling of his tusk,
Cried, “Ho! What have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me ’tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear.”

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Then boldly up and spake:
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a snake.”

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
“What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain,” quoth he;
“’Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!”

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: “E’en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!”

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a rope!”

And so these men of Hindustan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right
And all were in the wrong.

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

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