Dennis Lange Poems

A man may bend; a man may bow.
He may intently peer
Into the past to bid it ciao,
But cannot bring it near.
...

I hab a liddle trouble wid my node and allergies;
I'm allergic do the grasses and de bollen ob de drees.
My node will start do dickle and my node will start do run,
Den, coughing and a-wheezing, I'm nod habbing any fun.
...

I sailed the seas once, years ago,
And fond my memories
Of how the wind whipped up the waves,
Of tropic isles and trees.
...

There lies the bridge; we cannot see the end.
It disappears in shadows 'round the bend.
We know the way is littered by the leaves;
And, darkness falls upon it - there one grieves.
...

The leaves, now liquid, pour from off the trees.
The summer bloom is past, a pause, and then a blast
Since winter rides upon the northern breeze.
...

The nymph reclines, her head against the rail,
Blue Seine below, the golden sky above,
As she surveys the scene of Cupid's trail -
The city where he spread the dust of love.
...

I passed the place four crosses mark;
I shook my head and sighed.
The flowers draped upon them live -
It was four youths that died.
...

'Tis shame to see a mighty oak
Ruined by internal rot,
Or felled by lightning's single bolt
So that which was, is not.
...

The north wind blew a single leaf,
Dried like a golden harvest sheaf,
Across my driveway's cool hard sheet,
Near where the grass and concrete meet.
...

The love of money evil is,
And subtle as it brings
An excessive interest in -
Not people - but mere things.
...