September | 2013 | The Bard on the Hill

Archive for September, 2013

Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Haiku, tagged Adam named animals, bard on the hill, Dennis Lange, duck, embarrassed zebra, Haikus, newspaper, not enough lifeboats, poems, poetry, read, sunburned, Titanic, vampire snack, what's black and white and read all over on September 30, 2013| 2 Comments »

Lifeboat

Scarcity
Caused calamity –
Titanic.

——————–

Why That Name, Adam?

Is a duck
Called a duck since it
Ducks under?

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No Shame

You caught me.
But, not black, white, red
All over.

What’s black and white and red all over? An embarrassed zebra.

What’s black and white and read all over? A newspaper

What’s black and white and red all over? A vampire having a midnight snack.

What’s black and white and red all over? A sunburned zebra

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Lifeboat – photo by Macie Lewandowski at http://www.rgbstock.com/user/macieklew

Adam – photo by Adrian van Leen at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mn1YRho/over+your+head

Shame – photo by Johnny Berg at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mjzUMnM/Zebra

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* 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/

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

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The Return by John Burroughs

Posted in A-B (by poet name), Poems of Other Poets, tagged bard on the hill, fountains sweet, he cannot go back to his youth, John Burroughs, one may go back to the place of his birth, poems, poetry, sought the old scenes with eager feet, The Return on September 30, 2013| 3 Comments »

American naturalist and essayist John Burroughs (1837-1921) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Return

He sought the old scenes with eager feet, –
The scenes he had known as a boy;
“Oh! for a draught of those fountains sweet,
And a taste of that vanished joy.”
He roamed the fields, he mused by the streams,
He threaded the paths and lanes;
On the hills he sought his youthful dreams,
In the woods to forget his pains.
Oh, sad, sad, hills; oh, cold, cold hearth!
In sorrow he learned the truth, –
One may go back to the place of his birth, –
He cannot go back to his youth.

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Boooooring! by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Poems, tagged bard on the hill, Boooooring, Dennis Lange, how boring, poems, poetry, that's, youth today on September 29, 2013| 4 Comments »

Boooooring!

The young today oft have a common plaint,
Their world reduced to white and black, no paint.
At time when others send their kites a’ soaring,
Theirs fall to earth, and they proclaim, “How boring!”

It strikes them in the midst of work or play,
In summer, or in winter – any day!
It comes upon them like a green fly’s droning,
Drops down on them, a dullness and a groaning.

From one who came through childhood’s muddled maze
And manages through massed retirement days
With n’er a minute in pathetic pining:
The question is how youth can be so whining.

Is life to them an endless sugar high
Of tech and toys and tunes’ lullaby,
So that in pause, withdrawal causes crashing,
A sourness at all the world, teeth gnashing?

When diabetic, one must cut the sweets;
Be disciplined in what he drinks and eats.
And so the young must bite their tongue on blaming
And look at self ‘bout texting and their gaming.

For, each man’s blessed with life on earth so wide,
That though he tries, he’ll always miss some tide.
With world’s expanse, and ache-wish for exploring,
One with a mind will never say, “How boring!”

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The Ideal by Emily Dickinson

Posted in C-D, Poems of Other Poets, tagged Adam, bard on the hill, Eden, Emily Dickinson, God, our poor, poems, poetry, splintered Crown, the fair Ideal, transfigured on September 26, 2013| Leave a Comment »

The Ideal

Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture – we discover –
Or a splintered Crown –
Makes the Heavens portable –
And the Gods – a lie –
Doubtless – “Adam” – scowled at Eden –
For his perjury!

Cherishing – our poor Ideal –
Till in purer dress –
We behold her – glorified –
Comforts – search – like this –
Till the broken creatures –
We adored – for whole –
Stains – all washed –
Transfigured – mended –
Meet us – with a smile –

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Under The Wing (pine cone haiku by Dennis Lange)

Posted in My Haiku, tagged bard on the hill, branch, Dennis Lange, design" >, God, Haikus, Lodgepole pine, pine cones, poems, poetry, scales, trees on September 25, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Under The Wing

Cones nestled
Against a pine branch –
Its children.

——————–

Drooping down,
The scales overlap –
Wooden fish.

——————–

God’s design:
Some don’t open up
Until fire.

——————–

photo by Agnes Schollers at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nPOQDQk/Pinecone

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**** For an explanation of the third haiku, read the first paragraph under the first picture here: http://www.apologeticspress.org/APContent.aspx?category=12&article=1557

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* 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/

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The Builder – anonymous

Posted in A-B (by poet name), Poems of Other Poets, tagged anonymous, bard on the hill, child's immortal soul, poems, poetry, temple, The Builder on September 24, 2013| Leave a Comment »

The Builder

A builder builded a temple,
He wrought it with grace and skill;
Pillars and groins and arches
All fashioned to work his will.
Men said, as they saw its beauty,
“It shall never know decay;
Great is thy skill, O Builder!
Thy fame shall endure for aye.”

A Teacher builded a temple
With loving and infinite care,
Planning each arch with patience,
Laying each stone with prayer.
None praised her unceasing efforts,
None knew of her wondrous plan,
For the temple the Teacher builded
Was unseen by the eyes of man.

Gone is the Builder’s temple,
Crumpled into the dust;
Low lies each stately pillar,
Food for consuming rust.
But the temple the Teacher builded
Will last while the ages roll,
For that beautiful unseen temple
Was a child’s immortal soul.

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The Touring Tour De Force by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Poems, Religious, tagged artists, butterflies, butterfly, Dennis Lange, God, medium, palette, poems, poetry, talent, The Touring Tour De Force on September 24, 2013| 4 Comments »

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Touring Tour De Force

I could not paint a butterfly
If pinned and still as stone.
But I see in that palette’s tints
A talent near unknown.

As artists go, God is the best,
A talent great and rare.
He painted splash of color in
The medium of air.

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Light Fright by Dennis Lange

Posted in Limericks, My Poems, tagged bard on the hill, Dennis Lange, Light Fright, lights flashing, limerick, poems, poetry, state trooper, ticket on September 23, 2013| 3 Comments »

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Light Fright

I saw the state trooper’s lights flashing,
And quickly my molars were gnashing,
As vision of ticket
Went wild through my wicket.
But, whew! he passed by and kept dashing.

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