Skip to main content

Enwrapped in Blissful Ignorance

Or, Thoughts Upon Seeing a Certain Billboard in the Middle of a Cow Pasture

The cattle live a happy life:
A life of bliss, and not of strife.
Their days are full of cud and grass,
And blissfully their moments pass.

Connoisseurs of finest weeds,
They all discern the tasty seeds.
Bereft of sadness, gloom, and grief,
The milk cow eats another leaf.

Thrice happy they, who live in fields,
Who worry not o鈥檈r loss and yields.
Oh! such a blissful life is fine鈥
They鈥檙e standing by an Arby鈥檚 sign.

Glyka and the Magic Lute

A wandering minstrel found one day he could not play his lute.
He strummed and twanged and plucked the strings, but ever were they mute.
A maiden came and asked if he might sing a pretty song.
鈥淪weet maid,鈥 said he, 鈥淚鈥檓 sad to say my voice is not too strong.鈥
鈥淥h come,鈥 she said, 鈥渟trike up a tune, for I know that you can.
I saw you singing yesternight in front of every man.鈥
So he, abashed, took up his lute and then began to sing,
And though his voice was loud and clear, the lute said not a thing.
鈥淥 sorry man,鈥 the girl exclaimed, 鈥測ou must have broke your lute!鈥
鈥淥h no,鈥 said he, 鈥渢hat cannot be, its strings are resolute.鈥
The wondering minstrel tried again, he tried to play a round,
But still the stubborn instrument refused to make a sound.
鈥淲ell, I declare!鈥 the maiden said, 鈥淗ere, let me have a try.鈥
Her nimble fingers plucked the strings and then they gave a cry.
鈥淒ear minstrel friend, it seems to me you鈥檙e needing some technique.
Now watch me closely, and I鈥檒l show you how to make it speak.鈥
The minstrel watched indignantly while she the lute did play:
She played on it three galliards, one pavane and tuneful lay.
鈥淓nough! Enough!鈥 the minstrel said, 鈥淚 know technique full well.
It鈥檚 clear to see that this must be the workings of a spell.鈥
鈥淎 spell!鈥 she shrieked, and dropped the lute, a-clatt鈥檙ing to the floor.
鈥淎 spell!鈥 he cried out fervently, and scared her even more.
鈥淪weet maiden, I implore you, go and find this evil man!
Go and find the wicked wizard who has caught me in his plan!鈥 Read More

I shook the dictionary and this is what fell out

Ode to the pentevalent shanny,
Thou Sothic umbra of thremmatology!
How xerophilous thou art, and vesperal!
Thou impastest the horst in xanthous unau.
Jugulate me not, O vexillary lath.
Thy xanthous mirza is verdant
And entareth he who gazeth thereupon.


Actually, this is a nonsense poem that I wrote a while back as a school assignment. Believe it or not, all these are real English words. See what fun we homeschoolers have!

One Morning

One morning as the sun came up,
Before the flowers opened,
Methought I saw a visage dim
Belonging to some long-lost friend,
But then it vanished in the wind.

Oh! the crags and the clefts in the mountains of vainglory.
May no one ever come this way to tell the sage their story.
For he who prides himself
Will never hear.

I stand upon the shores of time,
Look 鈥榗ross the raging ocean.
The other side is none too bright;
Though dimmed by glory鈥檚 golden light,
The ages ever roll along.

Their ancient knowledge takes me back
To centuries forgotten.
The tongues of yore bring life again
To men who in their graves have lain
Full many years, and even more.

Oh! the crags and the clefts in the mountains of vainglory.
May no one ever come this way to tell the sage their story.
For he who prides himself
Will never hear.

A watched pot never boils, they say;
Perhaps that saying鈥檚 true.
I never stick around to see
(That proverb makes no sense to me);
I鈥檇 rather spend my day with you.

Full many have passed from this earth,
They lived, they loved, they died here.
Think not that you鈥檙e the best to live,
But rather to your fellows give;
Allow your pride to disappear.

The Work of the Maker

As from afar I gaze upon
The forest’s beauty, and then beyond,
With eyes of awe I soon can see
The leaves and boughs of every tree.

A close inspection now is meet,
So I, now stooping, near my feet
Behold the vein茅d grass’s leaves
And tiny ants as small as fleas.

I hear a rustling in the grass–
And see a shining beetle pass.
What wondrous things I see and hear:
A bird’s song falling to my ear.

Though some may scoff and others laugh
And deem our pious faith but chaff,
Here is the answer all have sought:
What wondrous things that God hath wrought!

Nature’s splendor thrills me so,
To see the nimble spider go,
To watch the vulture in the breeze;
There is design behind all these.
And that ’tis true, I surely know
For God in His Word tells me so.