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Posts Tagged ‘bard on the hill’

Morning on Winter Landscape

Cold blankets
Lay over the land:
Snow, fog, clouds.

— 

In winter
Even evergreens
Become white.

— 

One appears
To me in my mind –
Zhivago.

——————–

photo by Andreas Krappweis at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVICJna/Morning+on+Winter+Landscape

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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 Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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lord-ullin-s-daughter-1905

A Chieftain to the Highlands bound,
Cries, ‘Boatman, do not tarry;
And I’ll give thee a silver pound
To row us o’er the ferry.’ 

‘Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?’
‘Oh! I’m the chief of Ulva’s isle,
And this Lord Ullin’s daughter. 

‘And fast before her father’s men
Three days we’ve fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather. 

‘His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?’ 

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight:
‘I’ll go, my chief – I’m ready:
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady. 

‘And by my word, the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry:
So, though the waves are raging white,
I’ll row you o’er the ferry.’ 

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men-
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

‘Oh! Haste thee, haste!’ the lady cries,
‘Though tempests round us gather;
I’ll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.’ 

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her-
When oh! Too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o’er her. 

And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;
Lord Ullin reach’d that fatal shore-
His wrath was chang’d to wailing. 

For sore dismay’d, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover;
One lovely hand she stretch’d for aid,
And one was round her lover. 

‘Come back! Come back!’ he cried in grief,
‘Across this stormy water;
And I’ll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!- oh, my daughter!’ 

‘Twas vain: the loud waves lash’d the shore,
Return or aid preventing;
The waters wild went o’er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

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painting by Albert Pinkham Ryder

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music and song of the poem (3:46)

 

 

 

 

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hatteras

At Galveston, the Brooklyn saw a ship,
A merchantman? Sent to investigate –
The Hatteras, lest Union blockade’s grip
Be loosened like the shattered ship of state.

The Hatteras gave chase; the sun
Was setting both the sea and sky afire
Until it sank beneath the brine to shun
The same world it had beamed upon as squire.

Into the night, from safety of the day,
The phantom flitted like a butterfly,
Till Union sister ships were far away.
Then stopped, said, “I’m a bee; prepare to die!”

The ship was Alabama from the South.
The Hatteras sank quickly like the sun.
She took the bait till hook was in her mouth,
Then ‘Bama reeled her in and she was done.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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‘Tis a lesson you should heed,
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try, try again;

Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear
Try, try again;

Once or twice, though you should fail,
If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again;

If we strive, ’tis no disgrace
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in the case?
Try, try again

If you find your task is hard,
Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again

All that other folks can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view:
Try, try again.

 

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ppLzdd0

Lawmakers
Must do own taxes
With no help.

——————– 

Anything
More convoluted
Than tax forms?

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photo by Adrian van Leen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ppLzdd0/taxation+optimism2

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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 Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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O God, our Help in ages past,
Our Hope for years to come,
Our Shelter from the stormy blast,
And our Eternal Home! 

Before the hills in order stood
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same. 

A thousand ages in Thy sight,
Are like an evening gone:
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
 

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day. 

O God, our Help in ages past,
Our Hope for years to come,
Be Thou our Guard while life shall last,
And our Eternal Home.

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Sung on Youtube (2:42) – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-hN740J6qA

 

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pregnant silhouette

Herr Hitler led the Nazis
To kill six million Jews.
Ukraine was starved by Stalin;
The Times left out that news. 

And Mao? Forty million.
And Leopold just ten.
And Tojo’s tiny numbers
Of five are really thin. 

Gas chambers and the Gulag,
The farms raped of their yields,
Were killing rooms for devils
Like Pol Pot’s killing fields. 

More than did all the monsters
Kill in their bloody quests
Have we in America
Killed while still in their nests. 

Our count? Now sixty million.
And what’s our killing room?
We kill them in their nurs’ry:
We kill them in the womb.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

 

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“O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
………And call the cattle home,
………And call the cattle home
….Across the sands of Dee”;
The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
….And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,
………And o’er and o’er the sand,
………And round and round the sand,
….As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
….And never home came she.

“Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair–
………A tress of golden hair,
.……..A drownèd maiden’s hair
….Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
….Among the stakes on Dee.”

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
………The cruel crawling foam,
………The cruel hungry foam,
….To her grave beside the sea:
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
….Across the sands of Dee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

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mifmMlg

Fighter plane,
Propeller and wings –
It’s diving! 

——————– 

photo Lars Sundstrom at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mifmMlg/Barb+Wire+Closeup

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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/

—————————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.
 

 

 

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“The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun.”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,’
They said, it would be grand!’

If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
That they could get it clear?’
I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.’

But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’

But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
The night is fine,’ the Walrus said.
Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I’ve had to ask you twice!’

It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
The butter’s spread too thick!’

I weep for you,’ the Walrus said:
I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,
You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.”

 

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