Did the church bells ring?
When I saw you, some Other angel,
you tilted your chin up
and raised your brow in kind.
It must have been.
The church bell, like a shift whistle.
It's safe to take that drag,
only I can see you.
The bell has rung.
Take off your wings, and walk to me.
Pull me from this perdition,
put me to your lips.
And drain me like that cigarette.
I walked by the light pink tulip
thinking about life and friendship
When I heard all the songs around,
The chorus of bird's pleasant sound
There's something with the start of Spring
Beginnings and prayers, church bells ring
A chance to do things in new ways,
from lessons learned, unfolding days
Life is like a book of its own
with memories of places flown
Broken trust like a winter branch
Now healing from each avalanche
Refreshing, warm, and beautiful
Songs that lift the heart and fulfill
I learned to look at the moment
Pay attention to the time I spent
Spring time songs, a gift to behold
Gratitude blooms, never gets old
Heidi Sands
5/9/26
*8 Syllables
(C)opyright
(Poulterer's Distraction)
Every day I hear them cackle
When the church bells ring at noon
Near the barnyard by the truck patch
Where the chicken feed is strewn.
I observe them in the cornfield
As they peck among the stalks.
Makes me think that Mother Nature
Has a thing for chicks and cocks.
Chicks and cocks and broken locks.
Best watch out for Mr. Fox.
It’s so hard to plow a furrow
When the field is full of rocks
And you’re easily distracted
By the thought of chicks and cocks.
The kitchen clock, it ticks and tocks,
But time stands still for chicks and cocks.
As church bells ring
blooming Easter lilies rise
thoughts of you in spring
From Hip-Hop to bop, we ride the jazz tide, swing till you drop/underground Monk playin' some funk/Max Roach coaching the field, drums in the playbook/ Brother Jack McDuff runnin' for a touch down in the open filed/Superman and Jimmy Smith, the dynamic duo’s look flyin' high/Abstract truths on the wall, Warhol’s silver glow/Basquiat’s brush storms the gallery floor/Miles, out of the kool, breakin’ every rule/a trumpet thunderbolt/ stereo vinyl playin'/ Sonny Rollins vibes in the club, cookin’ up fresh notes/church bells ring in his horn/ Man, a river of quotes/The Jazz Messengers mark the milestones in the mist/Miles all the way live, his Sketches of Spain we can’t resist/ HiFi prayers/ Jazz time/ Peace and love for all mankind/Blue Mitchell in the barroom a mural on the wall/Man, it’s all right, baby, hear the crowd ignite/Wynton Kelly’s trio is out of sight like way gone/From street corners to jazz low down rooms, the groove is our creed/a lineage of legends planted in every reed/Spoken in breath, in rhyme, in rhythm’s Sly Stones art/a saga of swing that lives on, heart to jaged heart/ The soulful vibes keeps use alive
She, in her Easter bonnet
Standing beneath the shade,
Alongside gentlemen in top hats
To view an Easter parade
Church bells ring distantly
Showy, white lilies sway,
Waving to sweet daffodils
On this springtime holiday
Baskets with chocolate rabbits
Jelly beans and colored eggs,
Are carried by happy children
Running by on pudgy legs
A whirl of pastel colors
Meant to delight the eye,
Like the first time seeing
A robin or a butterfly
Joyous music fills the air and
Easter dinner is on the way,
Ham and pineapple wait at home
To round out this special day!
How the birds chitter chatter and the church bells ring.
Daffodils fill the graveyard and are picked by passers-by.
Families attend the spring fair where a florist sells arrangements.
The chided children are guilty of picking flower petals but are
Pacified by their parent’s sternness by partaking in a Spring dance.
Dancing deer dart away out of view in the village field.
Freshly hatched chicks are made victims of the foxes.
But not before the farmers so threaten their temptation by
A gunshot or two.
Another Spring rainfall, the grass greener and greener still.
Dogs are walked in the woods where children accompany wilfully.
They attend church with holy communion and in his honour bread and wine is consumed.
In his remembrance of his resurrection, it is such a ritual, and they are thankful for his offering.
Poetrys not all about
beautiful things
Such as falling in love
hearing church bells ring.
Pretty flowers in bloom
the first day of spring.
Nature's calling
hearing song birds sing.
Poetry can be dark
with lots of meaning.
It all depends
On how the poet is feeling.
Sunset on the boulevard,
the river's moon on rise;
Children tucked into their beds,
sleep heavy in the eyes.
The supper dishes are clean,
cattle are bedded down;
Radio's played the last song
and curtains are turned down.
All the village will now sleep
in peaceful country rest,
And they'll dream of coming days
when crops and stocks are blessed.
They'll awake as church bells ring
and gather, old and young;
When the sermon is finished,
Sunday's roast will be done.
Through the years changes occur,
seasons come, seasons go;
Often time the burning sun,
then freezing winds that blow.
Changes, too, throughout the young;
some will be college bound
While others are tied to soil,
on farms they will be found.
In small towns and on the farms
hands on hearts, flags unfurled;
That was when a man's handshake
was his word for the world.
Yet today so much remains
of yesterday's country,
Like steadfast values of life
that keep this land still free.
Merry Christmas time appears in sight,
coming for you out of the freezing night.
The stars sparkle on the snowy fir trees,
swinging to dance in the frosty breeze.
The wind whispers happy winter song,
the distant church bells ring ding dong.
On sleighs the children slide in delight
on frozen pathway in meadows white.
In sunset colors the tunes of carol glide
on waves of snowflake that silently slide.
As thin mist through the night air drifts,
Santa’ll come at your doorstep with gifts.
The candle rows you will light with glee,
like stars on the decorated Christmas tree.
With merry moments the stars will shine,
you’ll be full of joy in the festive time fine.
The Death Notice
O Anuncio de Morte
I am turning into an old man.
While my mind runs 100 miles an hour,
I am learning my body just cannot keep up anymore.
I find myself walking the streets in my pijamas and slippers and with my dog.
We stop and sit and just watch life go by.
We watch people move … living their fast and slow lives.
We see everything!
The strangest observation that I have learned to observe is the man with the paper notes in hand.
The church bells ring daily,
Not just announcing the hour of the day but these bells from the church ring different.
They are the bells of a person that has passed onto the next life.
Then, the next day, I see the man with the paper notes in his hand.
O Anuncio de Morte. The Death Notice.
He walks around the village posting notices of the people that passed their lives into the next world.
One day, I hope to see from above, the man walk and post my notice on the store front announcing about the life that I lived.
However, I feel I will not ever die.
Or maybe I am already dead because I live in paradise.
Life is beautiful but I still want to see my notice on the cafe window!
~ Pauly G
I push the gate- each year elate,
ending my wait to replay fate.
My roots await to drink, hydrate
and fully sate for full growth rate.
Stems push up straight to levitate
buds that dilate as leaves abate
and calibrate- blossoms create
to activate each full-bloomed trait.
I am your Spring- your loved upswing!
Each tree, a king as branches string
to a wellspring of verdant bling.
I share with zing, my season's fling.
Aft Winter's sting- while lovebirds wing,
our couples cling- soon worshipping
as church bells ring, good wishes sing.
All this I bring- my name is Spring.
February 22, 2023
Contest: In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Form Requested: Personification
(Internal Rhyme and Monorhyme added)
You may get a happy glow if snow appears.
You send cards to folks you know, like you've done for years.
You feel warm inside when church bells ring,
And you sing along when kids come caroling.
You may exchange some little gifts on Christmas Day,
And remember those you love who've gone away.
That's enough for some to be the meaning of Christmas,
But as far as I'm concerned, and I'll try to make it clear,
It's not cards you send or gifts you bring,
Or any other special thing you do just once a year,
It's when you resolve to start keeping Christmas in your heart
That makes the things you always do
Seem like Christmas the whole year through.
Tears rained down and clouds turned black as coal,
As the heavens opened, to receive your noble soul.
A familiar stranger, admired by all throughout the years,
A beautiful smile in every home, stamped on notes and souvenirs.
You were always there, a celebrity before the term was coined,
Our nation has lost a mother, and in grief we all are joined.
We remember your devotion, and give thanks despite our pain,
And relive the loss of others we have loved, and weep again.
As the world marks your final journey, the church bells ring,
We turn our faces to the sun, and cry ‘God save the King’.
The Queen
by Robert (Bob) Moore 9 September 2022
The Queen has gone
God save the King
the people cry
and Church Bells ring
The only Monarch most have known
Seventy years upon the throne
with Prince Phillip by her side
together bringing Britain pride
Phillip left to prepare the way
so his Queen, could join him one day
that day came, and we can see
together again, as they should be
An era gone, and lives well lived
people who gave, all they had to give
who served and did their duty grand
loved and respected, throughout the land
We shall not see, such as her again
steadfast and staunch, through joy and pain.
The people loved her, and will miss her so,
but it was time, for her to go.
Bob Moore
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