I Do Not Like C Clefs

I Do Not Like C Clefs by Linda Holt

I do not like C clefs;
C clefs I don't admire.
They skip around the staff
And then wreak havoc in the choir!

Why can't they be like Treble clefs
That anchor on a G?
A Bass clef knows where it belongs,
But not the wanton C!

One page it's on the middle line,
The next it's on the second,
The third page it's the fourth and fifth,
For no reason I can reckon.

I'd like to give that pesky clef
A permanent location,
Far from the ordered universe
Of musical notation!

 

Copyright 2013 Linda Brown Holt, all rights reserved


Posted on Wednesday, December 25, 2013 at 07:36PM by Registered CommenterLinda Brown Holt | CommentsPost a Comment

The Forest Hermit ;-)

The Forest Hermit

 

I am a forest hermit,

But not the kind you think.

Instead of leaves and grungy rags,                                  

I wear chiffon in pink.

 

No twiggy sandals scratch my feet,

My slippers glide with ease.

No vines and brambles snag my hair,

Just rhinestones and CZs!

 

I haunt the coolest shadows far

Beneath the greenest trees

And dance among the moonbeams

So diaphanous to see.

 

A stereotype I’m not, for sure,

But if you want to meet

A forest hermit on your walk,

Then I’m the girl to greet!

Posted on Tuesday, May 21, 2013 at 04:24PM by Registered CommenterLinda Brown Holt | CommentsPost a Comment

Light Verse Section (unrelated to religion...or anything! :-)

Posted on Thursday, June 21, 2012 at 03:27PM by Registered CommenterLinda Brown Holt | CommentsPost a Comment

A Sonnet on the Names of Diseases

 A Sonnet on the Names of Diseases

I love the melodious names of disease,

Their cadences flow with the greatest of ease.

The ailments are horrid, but behind the black cloud

Lurks a lining of silver: their names said out loud!

 

Whether deep vein thrombosis, or compound necrosis;

Or fibromyalgiac lymphocytosis,

I would sing from Olympus like harp-strumming Homer:

“Myocardial infarction! O, Mesothelioma!”

 

My heart breaks to think of those suffering in pain,

With no palliative save such a cool-sounding name,

So I hope when my time to depart has come nigh

It won’t be from gout or a blow to the eye,

 

Let the last words my doctor proclaims that I hear

Be, “Acute Tyrotoxism* finished you, dear!”

 

                                                                     *Poisoning by cheese

 

                                                -- Linda Brown Holt

 

 

Posted on Thursday, June 21, 2012 at 03:25PM by Registered CommenterLinda Brown Holt | CommentsPost a Comment | References1 Reference