I hab a liddle trouble wid my node and allergies;
I’m allergic do the grasses and de bollen ob de drees.
My throat will start do dickle and my node will start do run,
Den, coughing and a-wheezing, I’m nod habbing any fun.
I’m stobbed ub like de water in de back of Boulder Dam
But my node is flooding dissues like de sea floods Amsterdam.

It goes down in my donsils and id gurgles all around,
And oud my monkey boice comes and makes a fuddy sound.
So while I’m habbing trouble, de boor folks who hab do hear
Are habbing trouble also and deir trouble id sebere.
Bud as I wride my liddle poem, I dink of dose who read.
And wonder why my written words have also atrophied.


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


…….Jupiter And Ten

Mrs. Chub was rich and portly,
Mrs. Chub was very grand,
Mrs. Chub was always reckoned
A lady in the land.

You shall see her marble mansion
In a very stately square, -
Mr. C. knows what it cost him,
But that’s neither here nor there.

Mrs. Chub was so sagacious,
Such a patron of the arts,
And she gave such foreign orders,
That she won all foreign hearts.

Mrs. Chub was always talking,
When she went away from home,
Of a prodigious painting
Which had just arrived from Rome.

“Such a treasure,” she insisted,
“One might never see again!”
“What’s the subject?” we inquired.
It is Jupiter and Ten!” 

“Ten what?” we blandly asked her,
For the knowledge we did lack.
“Ah! that I cannot tell you,
But the name is on the back.”

“There it stands in printed letters.
Come to-morrow, gentlemen,
Come and see our splendid painting,
Our fine Jupiter and Ten.”

When Mrs. Chub departed,
Our brains we all did rack, -
She could not be mistaken,
For the name was on the back.

So we begged a great Professor
To lay aside his pen,
And give some information
Touching “Jupiter and Ten.”

And we pondered well the subject,
And our Lempriere we turned,
To discover what the Ten were;
But we could not, though we burned.

But when we saw the picture, -
Oh, Mrs. Chub! Oh, fie! Oh!
We perused the printed label
And ‘t was Jupiter and Io!

Jupiter was the Roman king of gods
and was attracted to a priestess of
Juno named Io. A painting by
Antonio da Corregio (1532) pictures
Jupiter, as a cloud, stealing a kiss.

Who, Me? Or You?

Are you real?
I’m talking to you.
Are you real?




Nobody Knows

Famous one,
Riddle of the Sphinx –
Where’s my nose?



The Gold Law

Often true:
Money tips the scales
Of justice.


Who – photo by Ortonesque at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mieAFYO/Cat+on+the+ledge

Nobody – photo by Marja Flick-Buijs at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mgQ8zzy/Sphynx

Gold – photo by darktaco at


* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/


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



Fellow poet Dennis O’Brien (an Australian)
read one of my poems and left a related one
in the comments:

I’m glad I’m not driving through Texas
In a silver and shiny new Lexus,
For I know if I tried
I’d drive on the wrong side,
So that ocean between us protects us.


My poem is here:

Here’s a link to another one of O’Brien’s poems:



…….In A Disused Graveyard

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead. 

The verses in it say and say:
“The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” 

So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can’t help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from? 

It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.


…….Through Thick And Thin

(the poem is about my granddaughter,
                  now almost 3.) 

I called her scratchings spider webs,
The first one brought to me.
She calls her scratchings spider webs,
Now drawn deliberately. 

Sometimes I am her audience;
I clap and lavish praise
For song or dance or toddler art.
I’m sunshine on her days. 

Sometimes we partner in the scratch;
I draw the spider in.
And by web-weaving we are bound,
One thick in years, one thin. 

I water well this growing plant,
Protect from sun and storm.
I’m now remaining young at heart
With her, my magic charm.


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



Stop, Christian passer-by! – Stop, child of God,
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seemed he. –
O, lift one thought in prayer for S.T.C.;
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy for praise – to be forgiven for fame
He asked, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!



Kite Surfer

Sky – last gull.
Sun closes his shop.
Sea – last fish.





Eat Them All Up – Same Result

The veggies –
Add them all up, a
Healthy smile.





Ancient Riddle Solved

Who came first –
Chicken or the egg?
The chicken.


Surfer – photo by Johnny Berg at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mHWJUcE/Kite+surfer+in+backlight

Eat – photo by Bies at

Riddle – photo by Jay Lopez at



* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/


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



……………….The Oven Bird

There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past,
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.




Sonnet 47 – What Drove Them On?

What drove Columbus and Magellan out
From harbors safe to test the waters wide?
Each stood upon the shore, none else about
And wondered what the maddening line might hide.

What spurred men on to leave this pleasant place
To sit atop a flame to reach the moon?
For centuries we wondered ‘bout that face -
What lies behind la Mona Lisa lune?

From beds of ease, men went to jungle’s trees,
That closed behind and left them to contend
With foes and beasts and heat and dread disease.
And why? – What lies beyond the river’s bend?

The urge to search comes when one cannot see
And’s coupled with a curiosity.


photo by RW Lindner at


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


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 13,993 other followers