canterbury bells
so delicate and pleasant
white, blue, lavender …
alarm bells
unheeded
no hurry
no scurry
damn jury
damn bells
ring yet
Lost in the Woods Hiku 28
lost in the woods at night
harsh croaks of crows on site~
knells of bells off-site.
weird whines of ravens
smitten with dreadful fright~
seeking fastest flight.
The day I dread most
Silences fun five whole days~
Wake too soon, return too late;
Hours drag on like stones.
Alarm bells bury silence
Till weekends return with sparks.
-------------------------------
Contest: SHOW ME A CHOKA
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Poem date: June 6th, 2025
Contest Judged: June 10th, 2025 6:04:00 PM
Placement: Third
Searching the smoking ruins
of Notre-Dame cathedral,
on the Paris Île de la Cité,
one of the finest examples medieval
of French Gothic architecture,
with flying buttresses, a rib vault,
immense bells,
enormous colourful rose windows
all of which went through hell
during the fearful fire of 2019,
and it was seen
he'd been through the wringer
when looking for Quasimodo
they found a dead ringer
Cattle bells ringing
u n
o d
somewhere beyond termite m s—
flies h u m in the heat
Spring Hiku 8
spring sun s
i
n
k
s to r e s t
a i n their nest
g
e
warbling wrens r
church bells chime from west.
The bell rings down the street. In his hand is a chilled glass. Nothing in this room is sweet. Darkness consumes the room. Time runs out until there is none left.
The bell rings down the street. The bright white gown hangs in the closet. Her heart feels incomplete. The clock tics and it feels like it'll never stop.
The bell rings down the street. With every smooth chime, more is at stake. Time to admit defeat. Times up.
Happy hearts each day,
Gives joyful smiles, okay,
Find light for dark time,
Cheerfl bells chime!
Hallow here the toll bell ring
The ferry man has my name
Beware the lies Lucifer brings
You only have free will
I tasted just a little bite
Now he comes with all his might
Slowly cancer sinking in
Oh the price to pay for sin
You can't hold back the universal debt ,a price to pay,
I always knew about this day
Was it worth the pleasure thrill
Here he comes in for the kill
I am but just a man I give no excuse for actions
In every road a chain reaction
Listen God can you here my prayer
I am lost in the great nowhere
My love runs deeper than I ever show
I was never taught open expression
From a child I was fed depression
But I have no excuse
I see only now the clear reality of truth
Forgive me father for I have sinned.
I hear the sacred church bells echo from the mountain.
They cleanse and free my soul like a baptismal fountain.
chief of disguise
collector of masks
the King wears his
as a helmet to scare
off enemies
the fool with false nose
the jester in chains
remains in oubliette
singing in his screams
impossible to forget
the old men who come
from the sea and steam
in cold of Poseidon spray
salt and fish from waves
likely alone are the women
and wives of sailors
so long as they have not
turned to traitors,
bakers or smiths
the loves who are steadfast
never safe from a day
when their hearts do not return
fading to old maids all
in the name of heartbreak
the Queen is tired of
the Knave of Bells
his complaints so
needless and vain,
checking his hair in the mirror
she is exhausted
left to remain as consort
to the pain in her heart
for the King is away
not likely to return.
One day from this hell I’ll escape
To the hell of the lesser disgrace
I’m fed up with the country of apes
Imitating they are human race
Their antics are no more a fun
How the apes idolize alpha male
Is painful to watch, so I’ll run
There’s no reason to stay, no avail
However, the more decent hell
Is way too much overprotected
If you lack the most horrible bio to tell
Most likely, soon you’ll be directed
Back to where you come from, because
This superior hell is considered asylum
For the millions of seekers, and those
Who slip through and police never finds them
Between these two hells there’s a space
With a runaway line to the skies
There’s no promise if I get my place
But to find it I’ll pay any price
Though you can sneer: both hells
Is an overused, flat metaphor
Mate, I’m glad you can’t hear those bells
See, another one’s coming, and more.
If not a Poet
what would I be
A soldier, a sailor
a fading marquee
If not a Poet
whose soul would I claim
a saint’s or a sinners
to praise or defame
If not a Poet
which path would I choose
the known or untraveled
which one did Frost use
If not a Poet
what hills would I climb
what bells could I ring
— in place of the rhyme
(Dreamsleep: January, 2025)
The sleigh glided through heavy snow
Santa was worried about the blizzard blow
When suddenly Rudolph stubbled, his leg amiss
The reindeer sighed to see their leader down
The North Pole wore a worried frown
Elf doctors worked with healing care
Santa looked on distraught
While backup plans filled the frosty air
The sleigh, now powered by a magic spell,
Would soar through the sky, still chiming bells
Rudolph cheered as they started their journey
For Christmas joy would save the night.
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