Dennis Lange Poems
Comments about Dennis Lange
The Melody Of The Wind
The wind may roar; the wind may shriek,
In passing trees - a rustle.
But 'tis the sweetest sound I seek,
Wind flexing music's muscle.
The wind may moan or it may howl
In nights of stormy weather.
But I don't want wind on the prowl,
But tame, as on a tether.
I want wind playing on the cords
That on my porch are hanging,
To make sweet music there, with chords,
And set my chimes a'clanging.
The Divorce Is Final
When my gallbladder had the gall
To kick up trouble after all
The time we'd spent in harmony,
Like precise parts of symphony,
I privately considered blasts
Of dynamite for stones whose pasts
Made rocky roads of pain and woe
And tables where I travel - foe.