A Bard Out of Time and Other Poems (2nd Ed.)

By Robert P. Hansen

Many of the poems in the second edition are the same as they were in the first edition. However, while I was rereading them, I tweaked some of the stanzas to make the meter more consistent (mainly in “A Bard Out of Time”) and twiddled with the wording of others. The rest of the poems were moved from my other collections while I reorganized them or were written after I published my last poetry collection in 2016. These additional poems led to splitting the original “Other Poems” section into three categories: Fantasy Poems, Horror Poems, and (new to this edition) Science Fiction Poems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert P. Hansen
• Release date: Apr 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215988442

Robert P. Hansen

Robert P. Hansen has taught community college courses since 2004 and is currently teaching introductory courses in philosophy and ethics. Prior to that, he was a student for ten years, earning degrees in psychology (AA, BA), philosophy (BA, MA-T), sociology (MA), and English (MA). Writing has been a hobby of his since he graduated high school, going through several phases that were influenced by what he was doing at the time.In the late 1980s and early 1990s, he played Dungeons and Dragons, read fantasy novels, and wrote fantasy short stories. He was also influenced by country music, particularly ballads, and wrote a number of short fantasy ballads that were later incorporated into the long poem "A Bard Out of Time."In the mid-1990s, college and work did not leave him much time for writing, and he mainly wrote poetry. It was during this period that he learned how to write sonnets and became obsessed with them. Since he was focused on developing the craft of poetry, it was a recurring theme in many of the poems from this period ("Of Muse and Pen"); however, as a student of psychology, psychological disorders were also of interest to him, and he wrote several sonnets about them ("Potluck: What's Left Over"). He also began to submit his poems for publication, and several appeared in various small press publications between 1994 and 1997.Most of the poems appearing in "Love & Annoyance" (both the love poems and the speculative poems) were written while he was a student (1994-2004), and relate to his romantic misadventures and his discovery of philosophy, the proverbial love of his life.The poems in "A Field of Snow and Other Flights of Fancy" do not fit into a specific period; they are humorous poems reflecting momentary insights or playful jests, which can happen at any time. However, most were written before 1999.In 1999, his interest shifted to writing science fiction short stories. Most of these stories were a response to a simple question: Why would aliens visit Earth? The majority of these stories appeared in magazines published by Fading Shadows, Inc. He later returned to this question in 2013 to finish his collection, "Worms and Other Alien Encounters."In 2003, he discovered the poetry of Ai as part of a project for a poetry workshop. Ai is known for her persona poems written from the perspective of serial killers, murderers, abusers, and other nasty characters. Her work inspired him, and he entered a dark period, writing several macabre persona poems similar to Ai's and compiling his thesis, "Morbidity: Prose and Poetry", which focused on death, dying, and killing. ("Last Rites ... And Wrongs" is an expansion of that thesis.)While a graduate student at the University of Northern Iowa, he twice won the Roberta S. Tamres Sci-Fi Award for his short stories "Exodus" (2003) and "Cliche: A Pulp Adventure Story" (2004).He did very little writing from 2004 to 2010; he was too busy developing or refining the courses he was teaching. From 2010 to 2013, he focused mainly on organizing, revising, and submitting the work he had already completed, which resulted in several poems and short stories being published. He wrote sporadically until the spring of 2013, when he finished the initial draft of his first full-length novel "The Snodgrass Incident," which expanded upon and integrated three short stories he had written in the fall of 2012.In the fall of 2013, he prepared several collections (poems and stories) for publication on Amazon and made a final revision of "The Snodgrass Incident." These were posted early in 2014, and he redirected his attention to other projects, including revising a short fantasy novel and a collection of suspense-oriented fantasy/horror/science fiction stories.

Book preview

Second Edition

By Robert P. Hansen

Copyright 2023 by Robert P. Hansen

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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New to the Second Edition

Many of the poems in the second edition are the same as they were in the first edition. However, while I was rereading them, I tweaked some of the stanzas to make the meter more consistent (mainly in A Bard Out of Time) and twiddled with the wording of others. The rest of the poems were moved from my other collections while I reorganized them or were written after I published my last poetry collection in 2016. These additional poems led to splitting the original Other Poems section into three categories: Fantasy Poems, Horror Poems, and Science Fiction Poems. The science fiction poems are new to this edition.

Reviews of the First Edition

On April 27, 2016, Lynn Daniels posted this on Amazon: It doesn't do it justice to simply call it poetry or fantasy. This is a gem of creativity in a sea of literary monotony.

On February 5, 2014, Elizabeth Bartosinski posted this on Amazon (Canada): Wow. I just came across these poems accidently and I just love them, especially the 'A Bard out of Time.' If you like poetry that has music. I highly recommend these ones. Lovely.

Acknowledgments

A Star-Struck Night ©2015 by Robert P. Hansen. Originally published in the 2015 edition of The Martian Wave.

All Hallows Eve ©1995 by Anderie Poetry Press. Originally published in Autumn issue of Feelings.

Battle Hymn of the Robot Army ©2012 by Robert P. Hansen. Originally published in the December 2012 issue of The Fifth Dimension.

Luna Two ©2010 by Robert P. Hansen. Originally published in the December 2010 issue of The Fifth Dimension.

Pole Star was published in my novel The Snodgrass Incident.

Sea of Tranquility ©2016 by Whispers. Originally published on Dec. 29.

Siren’s Song ©2014. Originally published online in Whispers… on Dec. 29.

An earlier version of The Summons may have been published by Luna Ventures in 1996 or 1997.

To the Gods, I Sing ©1994 by Michael McKenny. Originally published in Bardic Runes IX.

Copy Editing for 1st Ed.: Ronda Swolley of Mystic Memories Copy Editing.

Cover Art: Linda Foegen of American Book Design. Cover Image © Sebastiart / Adobe Stock. stock.adobe.com.

Dedication

To Richie, a long lost friend.

Table of Contents

Title Page

New to the Second Edition

A Bard Out of Time

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Epilogue

Fantasy Poems

Horror Poems

Science Fiction Poems

Connect With Me

Additional Titles

A Bard Out of Time

Part 1

Once while I was in Dun Keep,

a brothel did I pass,

and I wondered if the price were cheap

to get a piece of—

The hill had moved beneath his feet,

staggering his words,

but he regained his steady beat

through the grassy sward.

I walked in through the brothel door

in search of a comely lass,

and found, instead, a troublesome whore

with chains of iron and whips of brass.

I tried to run, I tried to hide,

but I could not get away—

His voice was broken in mid-stride

as both feet slipped away;

About his knees, like ropy claws,

were two thin, thorny vines

with flowers budding toothy jaws

up and down their spines;

They squeezed and pulled with all their might

to fell his bardic stance,

but instinct brought his sword to strike

a whirling dervish dance!

The vines had twisted round and round;

His sword was twirling death;

The flowers—tufts of reddish-brown

with floral scented breath—

had tiny teeth that gnawed his skin

with hunger’s taste unleashed

until his sword untangled them

from his tunic sleeve;

His fingers burned from tiny snags,

but soon his legs were free

from the tattered, severed rags

of deadly snarlweed.

When the thrashing settled down,

the vines were all but gone;

He shrugged and turned to move away

as if no war was won;

A moment passed for him to catch

the strangled breath he’d lost,

and when he found his voice again,

it sang this raucous song:

I tried to run, I tried to hide,

but I could not get away;

That she-devil of a twisted whore,

she chased me all the way!

Up the stair and through a door

and out a window I fled;

On the roof I found myself

with a fate far worse than death!

She cackled out in playful notes

between her broken teeth,

"I give to you the thing you want

and give it to you free!"

The roof was far too small for two

despite its length and breadth—

Oh! but for the will to jump

and plunge myself to death!

Alas, my love for life’s too strong

to give it up so soon;

I should have understood the signs,

but I was thrice the fool!

She stalked me like some kind of prey;

Her cackles filled the air;

The stinging cracks of leather whip—

chain links everywhere—

She blocked me in and closed the gap;

Her poundage flexed to pounce;

She must have weighed three hundred pounds

if she weighed an ounce!

The rooftop creaked and buckled

with every step she took,

and then a rafter snapped in two

and sent her through the roof;

I was too startled by the sight

to move to stop her fall,

and listened as her bovine screams

echoed off the walls.

I could have helped to save her life,

but I was more concerned

with fleeing from that dreadful place

of such sadistic charm!

Something deep inside me said

that she was still alive,

and so I scampered down the wall

and fled into the night.

The hills had turned to forest;

He finished up his song;

His brother’s inn was getting close;

It wouldn’t be too long;

The night would reek of revelry

surrounded by good friends;

His heart was lifted with his mood

to meet his journey’s end.

He came upon the twisting road

that led to Shallow Dale,

but could not see the faces of

the shadows that he felt.

A cackle rumbled through the air,

and chills went down his spine.

He heard the clank of brassy chains;

A woman cried: You’re mine!

He felt the skin upon his neck

creeping down his spine;

He heard the stomping of her feet

pounding through his mind;

The fear he felt was much the same

as when they first had met;

She was a whore of ample size

that he could not forget.

Then laughter rumbled impishly;

A youthful man emerged;

The look upon his boyish face

was all the man deserved!

The startled bard raised brandished fists

and chased him down the road;

He cursed him for a devil’s brat

with every breath and word.

They ran around until at last

the anger eased away,

and then he hugged his brother’s son,

forgiving him his play.

"Your magic’s getting better, son;

I never would have guessed

that your illusion was the cause

of such a wondrous jest!"

"Uncle, I could not resist;

Your voice was raised in song;

A simple spell is all I cast,

and it was all in fun!"

They walked along, side by side,

into the village square;

They found the Inn of Scarlet Wine

and ordered up some beer.

His travels had been weary ones;

His heart was full of cheer;

The bard was taken to his room

and he retired there.

He hid the gold that he had won

and left his sword and shield;

He locked the room with special care

as he rehearsed his spiel.

He strolled into the common room

with purpose in his stride;

He carried in his tender arms

his one and only pride.

The villagers had gathered round;

Their voices filled the room;

They knew the minstrel had arrived;

They knew of his return!

A place was made for him to sit;

The wine was freely poured;

The villagers awaited him,

their gifted homegrown bard.

The minstrel tuned his trusty harp,

and expectations rose;

As quiet filled the common room,

he struck his singing pose;

He cleared his throat with dignity;

He took a gulp of wine;

He saw in every single face

that they were his tonight.

My friends, I fear my heart grows old;

My spirit cold and bleak;

For I beheld a dreadful woe

upon a village street;

A bard had come to sing some songs—

or so it seemed to us—

I went to listen with the throng,

since I was curious;

Would her lutist skill be strong?

Would her voice be fair?

Would she want to trade her songs?

Would I even care?

Her technique was quite unique

and drew my interest in;

I listened with the villagers

and this is what she did:

Her horse’s hooves were used like clubs

to pound a steady beat,

and when the rhythm had been set,

she began to speak:

"I bid to thee a wondrous day

and offer thee my croon."

Her voice held music in its depths

that nearly made me swoon.

"The songs I play will have no name,

and mine must not be told;

So gather round, gather round,

and see what may unfold!"

The rhythm of the horse’s hooves

against the wooden block

sent a message through the square

to those she hadn’t caught;

It was the only sound to hear

until she strummed her lute;

Its chords were plucked with careless ease

that slowly built at tune.

The mournful lilt was obvious

to all the common folk,

and soon we heard her gentle voice

as she began to talk:

"This song I sing in memory

of one I dearly loved,

who lost his life while battling

the dragon Astranov.

"He was a friend of many men

who wore a warrior’s clothes;

His heart was pure as fresh-lain snow;

His sword was sharply honed.

"He’d heard a tale of misery,

of famine, fear, and death

and followed rumors to a mill

along a river’s edge.

"The miller’s girl was still alive;

No one else was there;

She would have fled, if she could,

if there was but somewhere—

"But where? Where? Where to go?

The village was her home!

She’d never left the miller’s creek—

There was nowhere to go!

"I will not tell the tale she told

that warrior fair and strong;

But I was there beside him when

he vowed what would be done!

"‘The dragon Astranov will die!’

he swore upon his sword,

and off he went to find the beast,

for that miller’s girl!

"He surveyed all the countryside

and found no living soul;

The villagers were surely dead—

all but the miller’s girl;

"She