Posted in My Poems, tagged aches and pains, bard on the hill, chain, Dennis Allen Lange, Happy Birthday To Me, old age" >, poems, poetry, seventy, the essential me, time on June 20, 2017| 2 Comments »
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My body tells me that I am,
…With ev’ry ache and pain.
It wants to tell me to be bound
…To bed, by Time’s long chain.
But all the signals are denied
…By the essential me,
Which says it simply isn’t true
…That I am seventy.
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photo by Prawny at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oRxvtji/Happy+Birthday
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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.
Posted in A-B (by poet name), Poems of Other Poets, tagged anvil, bard on the hill, chain, did He who made the lamb make thee, dread hand feet, frame, in the forests of the night, in what furnace was thy brain, poems, poetry, stars threw down their spears, The Tiger, tiger tiger burning bright, what immortal hand or eye, what the hammer, William Blake, wordpress blog on November 13, 2016| Leave a Comment »
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Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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The photo is mine of a picture that hangs in my office.
Posted in My Haiku, tagged bard on the hill, chain, Dennis Lange, haiku < META name = "keywords" content = "Life Fall Winter Death, poems, poetry on October 22, 2012| 10 Comments »
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Fall weather.
Coolness in the air.
Days are crisp.
Days grow short.
Winter is coming.
Leaves are crisp.
Leaves are crisp.
Like fragile eggshells.
Break from branch.
Breaks from branch –
Mortals from the cord.
Life is crisp.
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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, 2012.
Posted in About Poetry, My Poems, tagged alliteration, chain, heart, opera, poem, poetry, rain, singer, soul, Spain on May 20, 2011| 10 Comments »
The sounds repeated please the soul –
…We love the falling rain
That softly pitters on the porch
…And patters on the pane.
Alliteration fills our ears
…Like trilling r’s in Spain,
Like opera singers singing scales
…Of la la’s in a chain.
Perhaps it is the heart of man,
…The pulsing in the vein,
That whispers sweetly, whispers for
…A whispered back refrain.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.
The Bard on the Hill 