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niwchdi


The world cares not of what I do,
Until my poet life is through.
Then comes parades – if they are due.

But that will be too late for me,
A ship upon a distant sea.

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photo by Krzysztof Szkurlatowski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/niWChDI/Sailing+ship

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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okxz1zq

The fellow or madam is mostly terrific,
And long his/her tenure, and highly prolific.
He’s known and she’s quoted and really quite famous.
And yet we’re not sure if it’s Abby or Amos.
He’s sad and she’s gay and she’s young and he’s old,
And many have seen her; yet none him behold.
And no, he’s not twins and she isn’t transgender –
The lady and lord and just lowly pretender.
Ones who are most famous need only one handle
And that’s who we find from the past with our candle –
…………………….Anonymous.

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photo by Sias van Schalkwyk at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/okXZ1Zq/Candle+light+reading+1

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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A thousand squares of reading feet
And all the tomes for sale.
From floor to head, and more, each treat
With wrap and blurbs regale.

Each is a siren with its song
Entreating those who come
To look, to buy, take it along
To be an opium.

The sirens that are mysteries
Are many in their place.
With shadows o’er their face, they please;
They tease and make their case.

A youthful temptress calls the teen;
Another calls the youth.
Sweet Romance is, to many, queen.
Some want nonfiction, truth.

E’en history, that ancient dame,
Calls from her sacred isle,
And beckons with both fact and fame
And her all-knowing smile.

Of all that space, one three by three,
And hard for one to find,
Is that reserved for poetry,
The song that soothes a mind.

My narrow shelf that’s here makes sense,
A sliver of a slot.
Demand is small; the consequence –
This blog’s a lonely spot.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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Heroic couplets that are short
(Of one foot each do I abort)
Might bring the thought to some who see
That they (or I) are cowardly.


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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

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It’s bad enough, that to another room,
I’ll walk with purpose and a steady stride,
And thought will flee like a reluctant groom
Into an unknown distant land and hide. 

But I’ve a fear that I will sometime think
Of what, to me, is the most perfect line,
And ere, on paper, it’s put down in ink,
Like vapor, it will vanish from my mind.


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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

 

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Iambic are those two successive lines.
Pentameter in count is what defines
The length their feet walk ere they make a turn
And walk another line from stem to stern.
The couplet like a man and wife both chime,
As one paired mate, together in a rhyme.
Great Chaucer used them, but it took a Pope
To make them popular in use and scope.

 

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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heroic_couplet

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examples:

The poem above is an example of heroic couplets. 

https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2015/03/13/on-donnes-poetry-by-samuel-taylor-coleridge/

https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2015/06/08/a-prayer-in-spring-by-robert-frost/

https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2013/06/06/vice-by-alexander-pope/

https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2015/08/25/to-the-right-honorable-william-earl-of-dartmouth-by-phillis-wheatley/

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

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I write a blog
Much like a log –
I muddle daily through the fog. 

Some poems are good;
And some are wood
To toss and burn – I really should! 

Huge catalog
Means sometimes, dog,
And some with voices like a frog.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

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I wonder how discerning
Are readers as we read.
What is it that is earning
The plaudits that we bleed?

We see a well-known poet
And fawn then at his verse
E’en when the lines all show it,
That he was never worse.

Does tugging of emotions,
Like tides moved by the moon,
Sweep ‘way our lucid oceans
And bring us to a swoon?

I see the famed write riddles
With words, mysterious.
The sage then guesses, diddles;
Proclaims, “He blesses us!”

What is the worth, I wonder,
Of verse that’s so abstruse
All pleasure does it plunder
Like vultures pluck a goose.

What if we took an unknown name
(Like weed behind some barn)
And on a poem by one of fame
Replaced his with that yarn?

Would fancy soon be fading
As day does when the sun
Blocked by earth’s barricading
Lets darkness start its run?

If name of Keats or Browning
Was pinned upon my best,
Would that stop some from frowning
And my verse pass the test?

There’s a bit of snobbery
That comes with poet fame.
Also, there’s some robbery
From those who have no name.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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I read a bit, and then I thought:
Free verse ought not be free.
The proser should the reader pay
For suffered agony.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

 

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…..The Wind Invisible

The wind I cannot see I know
By looking at a tree.
The gentle rocks or wilder waves
Say wind is there, to me.

By ear, the wind invisible
Is measured by a chime:
A tinkle here, tink tinkle there
Or calling all the time.

The words I write within my verse
I measure and I mete
By feet that gallop, feet that plod –
For poetry has a beat.

By ear, the wind of poetry’s heard
With other sound – the rhyme.
And like the wind invisible,
Makes stanzas chime, chime-chime.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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