The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Posted in E-H, Poems of Other Poets, tagged attitude, bard on the hill, change of mood, changed my day, Dust of Snow, hemlock tree, joy, poems, poetry, Robert Frost" >, rued, saved my day, shook down on me, small things, the way a crow on March 9, 2020| Leave a Comment »
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Posted in Poems of Other Poets, S, tagged bard on the hill, joy, Music to hear, one string sweet husband to another, pleasing note do sing, poems, poetry, sadly, sire and child and happy mother, Sonnet 8, speechless song, sweets with sweets war not, VIII, William Shakespeare on January 14, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights joy.
Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,
Or else receiv’st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;
…Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
…Sings this to thee: ‘Thou single wilt prove none.”
Posted in My Poems, tagged baby bursting from the womb, bard on the hill, cubbyhole, Dennis Lange, extended sickness, going home, hibernating bear, hospital visit, illness, In And Out, joy, nurse, poems, poetry, release, wheelchair on March 28, 2016| Leave a Comment »
I was an “in and out”- an “in” to see
A friend, a broken one who had to mend,
An “in” extending heartfelt sympathy,
An “out” when my short visit came to end.
Then through the long and sterile hall I went,
Took elevator down its narrow chute;
Watched doors too slowly open post-descent
As if two snails were ending a dispute;
And then the lobby to the sliding doors
That opened to the world both bright and free
Where sky’s the limit for the bird that soars,
Where men can sample from a panoply.
Then from a hall of the hospital maze,
A nurse rolled forth a lady in a chair,
Wheeled from a room where she had been for days
Pajama-ed like a hibernating bear.
And she’d been holed up in a tiny den
Kept there because she was not well or whole.
She was no “in and out” like me, but “in”,
And in and in and in a cubbyhole.
And though her face was pale, there was a light
Upon it, both from out and from within
As she left dark days for the one that’s bright
For sun that would bring color to her skin.
I could, with quicker pace, have walked ahead.
Instead, I slowed to be an audience
And walk behind the one who’d left her bed
To take in life the place that she had once.
My wish: to see a sheltered flower bloom,
To watch one give her hellos and goodbyes,
One like a baby bursting from the womb
Who meets the teeming, waiting world and cries.
—
—————————————-
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.
Posted in My Haiku, tagged bard on the hill, bathtub, Dennis Lange, Haikus, hanging clothes out to dry on the line, joy, poems, poetry, rainbows, rubber duck" >, sunrise, sunset, thanksgiving on November 8, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Whiten And Brighten The Wash
Easier
To work, hang out clothes,
With rainbows.
——————–
Bath Necessities
The water,
The towel, rag, soap
And, yes – me!
——————–
Sunrise, Sunset
New day joy
Or thanksgiving for
Day now past.
——————–
Wash – photo by Copta at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mL8ptBY/Pegs
Bath – photo by Steve Woods at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhe6iP2/Bath+Duck
Sunset – photo by Sanja Gjenero at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhATwvQ/at+sunset+3
——————–
* 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, 2014.
Posted in C-D, Poems of Other Poets, tagged bard on the hill, brought forth music sweet and strong, fear, harp, hate, joy, Paul Laurence Dunbar, poems, poetry, The Master-Player on February 12, 2013| Leave a Comment »
The Master-Player
An old, worn harp that had been played
Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
To play. But each in turn had found
No sweet responsiveness of sound.
Then Love the Master-Player came
With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
The Harp he took all undismayed,
Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
And brought forth music sweet and strong.
Posted in I-L, Poems of Other Poets, tagged anonymous, happiness, joy, living, poem, poetry on May 13, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Living
To touch the cup with eager lips and taste, not drain it;
To woo and tempt and court a bliss – and not attain it;
To fondle and caress a joy, yet hold it lightly,
Lest it become necessity and cling too tightly;
To watch the sun set in the west without regretting;
To hail its advent in the east – the night forgetting;
To smother care in happiness and grief in laughter;
To hold the present close – not questioning hereafter;
To have enough to share – to know the joy of giving;
To thrill with all the sweets of life – is living.