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Posts Tagged ‘discipline’

My little Son, who look’d from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,
Having my law the seventh time disobey’d,
I struck him, and dismiss’d
With hard words and unkiss’d,
—His Mother, who was patient, being dead.
Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,
I visited his bed,
But found him slumbering deep,
With darken’d eyelids, and their lashes yet
From his late sobbing wet.
And I, with moan,
Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;
For, on a table drawn beside his head,
He had put, within his reach,
A box of counters and a red-vein’d stone,
A piece of glass abraded by the beach,
And six or seven shells,
A bottle with bluebells,
And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art,
To comfort his sad heart.
So when that night I pray’d
To God, I wept, and said:
Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath,
Not vexing Thee in death,
And Thou rememberest of what toys
We made our joys,
How weakly understood
Thy great commanded good,
Then, fatherly not less
Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,
Thou’lt leave Thy wrath, and say,
‘I will be sorry for their childishness.’

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Spanking

Old-fashioned?
Bible – old as God,
Unchanging.

— 

Bible says
If you spank the child,
He won’t die.

— 

The reason?
For discipline, not
In anger.

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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, 2015.

 

 

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Parenting

Do your job:
Control, corral them.
Or, cages.

— 

End all of
The clowning around,
Or they’re clowns.

— 

The last thing
That is wanted here:
A side show.

——————–

photo by Kevin Tuck at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oo3ujlu/Funny+sign

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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 Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

 

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(for Father’s Day, 2011)

Father –
It was the why you rose to work, with sometimes fewer words:
Mouths to feed, with open beaks, just like the baby birds.

Father –
It was the why you sometimes had to toughly discipline,
Like sergeants in the army mold raw recruits into men.

Father –
It was the why of outer gruff, quite needed to be firm,
When even that grew out of love, the greatest gentle germ.

Father –
It was the why God made your shoulders wider than the rest,
To lean upon when worldly woes against my soul were pressed.

Father –
All that and more is in the word, your role within the ranks.
All that and more is what you are, to me, and I give thanks.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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