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Poem

Can’t you hear the silent trickle rusting
	on the bell of liberation
shouting into the wind of nascent freedom
	Its trick or treat frosted 
or icing on the caked in disguise

It sounds action once and for every all
	yet the muted concerto
lost its bearings the clapped out
	clapper corroded in timeless quest
of percussion dangling from the crown

Swinging like a forlorn anchor on
	the chain of progress it casts
agony screams daylight low life robbery
	a trigger creaking in terminal despair
begs mercy forgiveness redemption

Tim is a diver of deep seas and quest
	for knowledge solemn
comprehension seeks a quiet tune
	of justice equality and peace
and there it rested in the shipwrecked path

He searched among the debris swayed in
	rock bottomed murky hull
and just when he glimpsed the compass
	his weight belt buckle scraped
open on the voyager’s skeleton’s metal bar

A quick ascent his lungs near bursting
	frantically breathing out
for sheer survival one glance on the 
	depth gauge the other on
the sheltered bell speedily retreating
	
From his tranquil speechless vision came
	enlightened understanding
that tell tale signs appear in strange disguise
	Sometimes buoyancy reveals
dark secrets once we listen harder than before

A bell is a bell whether we discern it or not
	it uplifts when properly 
looked after and even from a distance
	and thus once timid Tim will 
never forget the rushing bubbles in his ears

He’ll dive again and venture in fortune
	has vowed to spread 
the message and reverberations and
	moves his wetted appetite 
and lips for you and I to hear and cherish

16th September 2018

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