June | 2015 | The Bard on the Hill

Our fate is sealed; gone is the rule of law.
The court has taken on itself a role
Of changing words to legislate; its claw
So proud in reason as it takes control.

The source that gives it power is ignored –
It does not matter what a word might say,
Nor that its range is roped – it cuts the cord.
It bends words since it feels a certain way.

We are a Sodom waiting for the fire,
Gomorrah for the brimstone’s choking smell.
We’re tolerant of sin because the choir
We’re singing in wears robes that come from hell.

God’s holy Court will soon in judgment sit
And lowly court will get its final writ.

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Prov.14:34 Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin
…is a reproach to any people.

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No Apples For My Teacher by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Poems, tagged bard on the hill, cake, cookies, Dennis Lange, healthy, homework, keeps the doctor away, lenient, No Apples For My Teacher, poems, poetry, pupils slide, substitute, sweets on June 26, 2015| 1 Comment »

An apple for the teacher’s swell;
…It keeps the doc away.
But as I keep my teacher well,
…She’s teaching ev’ry day.

I’d like a sub who can’t say “no”,
…Who lets us pupils slide,
Who won’t give homework as a woe,
…Won’t miss me if I hide.

An apple’s a too healthy food;
…A different tack I’ll take.
I’ll be a student smart and shrewd –
…Bring sweets like cookies, cake.

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Analyze and Anatomy

Posted in Humor, tagged analyze, anatomy, Herbert V. Prochnow, humour, my anna lies over the ocean, poems, poetry, The Speaker's Book of Illustations on June 25, 2015| 1 Comment »

A pupil in a poetry class was asked to write a short verse using
the words “analyze” and “anatomy”. Here is what he wrote:

My analyze over the ocean,
My analyze over the sea,
My analyze over the ocean –
O, bring back my ana-to-my.

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From The Speaker’s Book of Illustrations by Herbert V. Prochnow

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Haiku, tagged bard on the hill, barred, Dennis Lange, fine fence, God, Haikus, idol, keeps out, living and the dead, pail, pale by comparison, poems, poetry, thimble, Tom Thumb on June 24, 2015| 1 Comment »

Not Pail By Comparison

Sits atop
Tom Thumb’s little fence –
A thimble.

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Barred

A fine fence!
It keeps out so much,
E’en the sun.

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The Living And The Dead

The flower
May once have had life.
The god? No.

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Pail – photo by Kriss Szkurlatowski at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhYb59Q/Old+flowerpot+on+the+fence

Barred – photo by Edmondo Dantes at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/o8DYzbm/fence

Living – photo by Dominic Morel at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf8aq2g/Pray

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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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In Neglect by Robert Frost

Posted in E-H, Poems of Other Poets, tagged bard on the hill, feel forsaken, In Neglect, mischievous vagrant seraphic look, poems, poetry, Robert Frost" >, they leave us so to the way we took, wayside nook on June 23, 2015| 2 Comments »

They leave us so to the way we took,
…As two in whom they were proved mistaken,
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,
With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,
…And try if we cannot feel forsaken.

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The San Francisco Hills by Dennis Lange

Posted in My Poems, tagged bard on the hill, Carl Sandburg, cat, Dennis Lange, fog, ivory, Mark Twain summer cold, poems, poetry, rhyme, rhythm, Smoking Mountains, snow, The San Francisco Hills, virgin choir, white robes on June 22, 2015| Leave a Comment »

The San Francisco hills are, day by day,
A mystery that never goes away.
Some need a revelation so they’ll know
Why they put on the purest iv’ry show.

They daily seem to smoke as if on fire,
And wear their white robes like a virgin choir.
But on their slopes there is no leaping flame
That Smoking Mountains would become their name.

Though Twain deemed San Francisco summer’s cold
No one who knows would be so wrong and bold
To say the hills, upon their heads, wear snow
So they are white and wise like old men grow.

It really is too complex to explain
The factors here in my too short refrain.
So, in the end, my simple answer’s that
On San Francisco hills sits Sandburg’s cat.

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Mark Twain supposedly said, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.”

Fog by Carl Sandburg:
https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/06/10/fog-by-carl-sandburg/

If Sandburg’s Cat Were Mine:
https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2015/01/14/if-sandburgs-cat-were-mine-by-dennis-lange/

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St. Agnes’ Eve by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Posted in Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, T-V, tagged Alfred Lord Tennyson" >, argent, bard on the hill, Christianity, convent roof, heaven, heavenly bridgegroom, Jesus, Lord, pale taper's earthly spark, poems, poetry, pure of sin, religious, Sabbaths of Eternity, sparkling to the moon, St. Aganes' Eve, towers on June 21, 2015| Leave a Comment »

Deep on the convent–roof the snows
…Are sparkling to the moon;
My breath to heaven like vapor goes;
…May my soul follow soon!
The shadows of the convent-towers
…Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours
…That lead me to my Lord:
Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
…As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year
…That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soiled and dark,
…To yonder shining ground;
As this pale taper’s earthly spark,
…To yonder argent round;
So shows my soul before the Lamb,
…My spirit before Thee;
So in mine earthly house I am,
…To that I hope to be.
Break up the heavens, O Lord! And far,
…Thro’ all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
…In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;
…The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
…And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates
…Roll back, and far within
For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
…To make me pure of sin.
The Sabbaths of Eternity,
…One Sabbath deep and wide –
A light upon the shining sea –
…The Bridegroom and his bride!