Best Chime Poems
I've somehow pondered about the
rush of air
of how I could be lulled on billows, and
yet,
its notes upon my flesh eludes me--
as if in midnight trailing, weeping in refrains
this cadence glides beyond
streetlamps
on to my litanies, my expectations, my
tears
until I'm drenched by a melody ambient
as the sound of breeze.
Like a rain-child born in January
with taps in my veins, I become
a listener of seasons' tingling tunes
which inhabit my thoughts : and to
know my heart's kept secrets are
cuddled through this rhythmic hisses,
arias of both my dark and lustrous hours.
Now I trace the reel of fleeting memories dating from youth to mid- adult...this old wind chime wrapped in chrome
and antique stones fondle
timeless music whipped by storms,
rhapsodies, deaths of my
life...a hanging rune delivering me
from all I must bear--
though owned by Mom's as a hoard or collection, it was my precious harbinger:
but it echoes no more
in spaces where I loved, and still
need to love back...
Gazing at this chime of four decades drifting gently on the room knob, it has
become mute, aged... but cared for like a most treasured keepsake.
Lithesome steps lead me to an ancient
temple
Perched across a bay, weeds and
hyacinths curl between my feet,
Where mist refills bowl of cotton clouds
As rustling breeze ascends on skyline's ladder.
In stillness, I lounge on the pew to whisper unsaid psalmic devotions
for a world which aches for calmer
retreat--
That I reach a peak where the mind
becomes absent--
Then I hear them , a medley of peals
Lifting me higher in regulated tempo from gong
rhythms,
A music swelling in warm temperance Until warm kiln of light and radiant
fireflies stir my kundalini.
On this treasured moment, a sentient
energy
Cleanses my beingness from past sins -- mortal and venial-
That I listen to the clang of my inner child's soft echoes entering my veins:
Somewhere in blank spaces, bells swing of
innocent laughter...a treble,
a clap
bringing me to the kindness of youth,
And my body stays quiet, welcoming this rite of
passage on days when the spirit calls for an
interlude's break...a meditative
connection with
the self--
without the need to speak.
A note rides on a Sonnet's rhyme
And travels on to Shakespeare's quill
A bird sings with nature's chime
Its melody fluttering in the sunlight still
Inspiration takes us to starry skies
Where the seven muses roam
Luna then begins its rise
and glimmers in the gloam
On the shore the waves repeat
As palm trees sway in the breeze
Dancing to verses in a poem's beat
As a song sails on the seas
10-20-2024
this clock on the wall, echoes through my heart's lonely walls
it laughs in seconds the pulsation of years long past
its hands stroke the circumference of my soul it thralls
it writhes against my memories in an outward cast
if only to rewind this torturous menace of time
step rearward beyond the past where you claimed my weary soul
to love you less, free my heart's chambers from this frozen clime
reclaim myself from your shadowed clutches and emerge whole
would pathways of my strides vestige less in absence of you
or become aberrated in the distance of time's beat
would my soul escape darkness and linger in brighter hues
or remain lost in the echoes of this clock's haunting bleat
October 8, 2019
If only we could turn back the hands of time Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
When something stirs within the heart
And kindles a flame of desire
Feelings blaze up as it starts
As you feel the warmth of love's fire
There is a song in heartbeats chime
As this melody you embrace
Compose a poem of lovely rhymes
With words of beauty and grace
Love's drug is a natural high
Making you float on cloud nine
And you'll soar in an endless sky
With feelings you find so divine
A beautiful gift from above
The beauty and charm of love
3-6-19
What is Love Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
The little legs of my wind chimes
dangle, and giggle a nervous tune
each time a soft breeze tickles
the soles of their feet.
And as a bluebird on a red tin roof
looks on with indifference,
for a moment I am 8 years old again.
A time when time itself did not move
and everything a simple and joyous wonder.
Wind Chime
I have this old broken wind chime
Hanging with a few hollow pieces left.
Still playing a beautiful soft melody
With slight breeze the wind leaves behind.
The sound is high and low, like life.
We have the spectrum of it all.
Broken we may be at times
And we still have a powerful song
To bring to the world waiting.
It may not be like others, it is our own.
But like the sound of instruments together
Performing in an orchestra, it is complete.
The audience just wants to hear the music.
Heidi Sands
P oets are a special breed
O bsessed with how each line reads
E ver seeking the perfect rhyme
T aking oodles and oodles of time
S o the finished product peals and chimes
Yesterday's love is lost to time
Buried upon the hill I climb
Her name is etched in marble stone
By her grave, I hung a wind chime
To dance with the winds that now moan
Each day, anguish and pain I own
I picture her face with each tear
Revealed when I'm at her tombstone
Where her voice is soft, yet I hear
This imagined sound I revere
The pain in my heart will not mend
Takes me to a madness I fear
The timeline of life can not bend
So in my night dreams, I pretend
Where we go through time and relive
There I will stay until my end
The wind-chime tree
is singing in heavenly voice,
there are Angels beneath the golden rusty
red leaves,
There singing out in Harmony
a slow and sad ;'hymn in the soft
breeze
I lolled into the peacefulness
I kick back in my relaxing chair
close my eyes , and dream.
Aluminium Fairy's are dancing and laughing
on Green sleeves and Y shaped branches
They STOP, Spin clockwise in the wind
holding on to the tip of failing dying leaf
I hear them say
''WHO is she ?
As she gently rocks on her front porch
lingering breeze caresses her cheeks
his pretty wind chime gift sounds upbeat
although nostalgic memories make her weep
Lingering breeze caresses her cheeks
growing loneliness she is quite aware
his sudden death caused an empty seat
his pretty wind chime gift sounds upbeat
Growing loneliness she is quite aware
as the wind chime rustles memories stir
teary eyed she stares at the empty rocking chair
as she gently rocks on her front porch
3-25-18
Cold steel loosely hanging
Spirit wind passes by ---
A warm melodious song.
Grandfather Clock
When I was young, not four foot tall,
My Grandpa’s clock I remember well
Stood and chimed, alone in the hall
When I was young, not four foot tall.
Taller than I, standing by the wall.
Older than he? I could not tell
When I was young, not four foot tall.
My Grandpa’s clock - I remember well!
05/17/2021
Entered into 'Triolet' contest
by Kim Merryman.
How do I deserve the treasure
Of your nightly presence,
Holding me, welcoming me
To this bed that we share,
Where cares of the day
Are sponged away by downy comfort?
Never have I experienced such
Freedom in a relationship.
Receptivity is your middle name,
Giving to me is your essence.
My Love, who first experienced release
After she was fifty, so hard was life,
So filled with uncaring ignorance and
Pseudo-religious denial of God’s gifts,
In my arms, spelunking into joy.
My Love, whose first sexual experience
Was a rape that impregnated her,
But ultimately helped her family, twelve people,
Escape from Communism’s curse by land and
By boat plying through bodies of less fortunate.
As dawn lifts us both from slumber
My thigh is a pillow for your legs
As you lay open to love’s gift.
Soul dipped into the cleansing
Well of sensual satisfaction
You DING DING DONG DING,
Always without inhibition,
Sometimes as you softly snore.
Sated once more we snuggle into
Even deeper caves of wholeness
Softly filled with morning light.
Brian Johnston
May 29, 2015
It came around in time.
Not a pewter dime but your silver chime
delighting the eyes of a sleep-deprived moth,
awakened from nightmares in chloroform froth.
Each muttered lie which lessens the blind,
(that my eyes, yet blinking, chased once behind)
whose stale shriek of shekels tempt tender-throats’ trust
(from far-reaching lecterns of razor-burned dust)
promise false profits, their cheeks full of rue,
bankrupt, unable to quarantine you.
11/30/2017