I would choose Iberian over Siberian a true culinary librarian
Epicurean yet utilitarian not barbarian don’t be a contrarian
Top picks & tricks from heady cultural mix definitely not aryan
Runaway or just the gravy train arcane but with modern refrain
Can’t restrain or contain the insane foody reign of this domain
Go like the clappers for Tapas fiesta then siesta the slow lane
Rally your pals with the gals go dullally down any hidden alley
Croquetas or Las Gambas or just Patatas Bravas in Las Ramblas
Paella the story teller paprika bestow Chorizo glow best seller
Scarlet harlots prawn p*rn dig suckling pig jig a verdant valley
Have a trenchant penchant for any merchant of the don Jamon
Svelte slivers melt tastebuds pelt flow across the Iberico rubicon
Flavour flotilla scintilla of morcilla or tortilla to savour all thriller
Rain falls mainly on the plains starter or main food reigns in Spain
I am frustrated and annoyed by his ticking,
or perhaps it should be labeled the 'tocking'
By the never-ending tongue wagging clicking
in the language better known as 'clocking'
Must Grandfather Time command my life?
He so rudely continues without a thought
that his hammer yammering rhythm of strife
mocks the beating pulse of my human heart
What a wonderful fantasy my life would be
if for one day I'd not hear his unrelenting beat
I'd be stress free if time would stand still for me
for without his gonging life would be so sweet
In solace of night, I seek sleep and close my eyes
in need of escape and retreat from earthly chore
but I cannot find a moment of tranquil paradise
for his insistent knelling peals out once more
Each quarter hour his mallet chimes out to me
but his clappers sing off key in monotonous song
Not a lyrical lullaby, but a torturous rhapsody
whose tireless verses antagonize me far too long
I'm tenacious to put an end to his wagging tongue
and shackle the swinging motion of his pendulum
Each hour of the day and night would go by unsung
Being silenced is the price paid by the meddlesome
Those windchimes dancing in the wind
Can drive the sane around the bend
Give neighbours a beer
So its crystal clear
Which tinkle may make a new friend!
Lunation night time
Another, cloud standees give
under the clappers
The elegant mute swan,
Gliding through the water,
It's feet under the water,
Going like the clappers.
old bones
hanging from abandoned nest
clicking
in a silent breeze
corn stalks
brittle in an August heat
chafing
in torrid torture
seeds scattering
in tin roof
timpani
clothes pins
humming
on long forgotten
lines
bare branches
chattering
at each gust
of icy rain
church bell clappers
nudging
the edge
of solemn psalms
distant chimes
telling us tales
if we but
listen.
©8/19/2018
for Wind Chimes Poetry contest
sponsor – Edward Ibeh
Since it’s the beginning of a rather bleak week,
I’ve decided to play games like hide and go seek.
First I have to round up some willing boys and girls,
They are around the corner , some are wearing curls.
We all have to be careful when choosing our sides,
We need glad ones, and nice ones, and some with tough hides.
We need screamers, and yellers, and gigglers too.
It’s keen fun playing games with pals that can “woo hoo.”
I like jumpers, and thumpers, and clappers galore.
To get this game started, I’d best go out the door.
I’m pedaling up the street, an inviting bike ride.
My friends cannot find me if I hole up inside.
Warm wind blows on bells,
The clappers pick the movement,
The sound joins the breeze.
Season's grumpy greetings
Santa's humbug helpers
Sleigh bell's clanging clappers
Snowman's creepy carrot
Shifty carol crooners
Seldom enjoy eggnog
Sullen new year nonsense
Entry for the "Merry Christmas and happy new year pleiades" contest
Written 4th January 2017 - after the Christmas season
Un-Ringing the Bells
To live in the shadow of the steeples
the tintinnabulation of Poe’s bells*
tormenting the sinners as they slumber
wrestling the darkened dreams of childhood hells
following the path that led asunder
“the road less traveled”** challenging the norm
a vagabond in tattered memories
wandering through an endless self-made storm.
Awaken - the bells possess no power -
cold hands that call dead clappers to concuss
tremble at the thought the ropes are fraying
fear’s ancient tones now deadened under rust.
Yet their vibration lingers at days start
within the chest still beats their “Telltale Heart”***.
1/3/2017
With acknowledgement to
*The Bells – Edgar Allen Poe
**The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost
***The Telltale Heart – Edgar Allen Poe
submitted to – Sonnet about where you live – Poetry Contest
Seven cities sat* silently in the sandstorm**
Waiting as the wind whipped around wickedly**
Dun walls draped with dirt and dust**
And the darkened sun desperately seeking a dim scenery*
But as the unsecured boards were battered and broken about
Clapping clappers clipping** the next scene
The humans huddle in the hovels hiding and hidden**
From the farce of the ferocious furor, full of fear**
But then, as suddenly as it started, it subsides**
As silence settles** and the sand sifts** down
Down to the ground and gravel
And carefully eyes peek out of slits and keyholes
Seeing the first rays slice through the haze
Defining from pastel to watercolor to crisp bristle brush
Even if the voice of the cities are still hush*
There is a stirring of life
Of hope
In the end of stormy strife***
*personification
**alliteration
***metaphor
Among all beast from the Far East
This leopard is the beast of the east
He is so swift with clappers and claws
Claws that joy in breaking jaws
In or out of the many land laws
When you see him in a fare hunt he never withdraws
Until he gets his full fair share in the air,
However rare,
Flesh of his hare,
His portion and share
With all strength and broad length
He sets his priority in the dark though bright
Because he needs them right without a slight "fight"
He moves and writes women’s plight
At heart as he suppresses his might
Watch him on the telly
His steps are welly
As he faces his in-laws with his tail under-the-belly
Do you wonder?
Yes, you ponder and wonder
How this leopard can ever be shy
Of cause it isn't a lie
He never looks up in the sky
As he faces his mother-in-law for a bride!
This leopard needs a ride
He will no longer hide
But slide and glide
To meet his in-laws
Though slow, to glow and follow
His bride on the other side
To unhook his bide through good guide
On the other side of the site and sight so wide
Advertising has us in it's wrappers
here's the bad stuff ~ here the clappers,
it seems the product needs the jabbers
like a potato chip ~ the grabber!
but for the quaintness of the blabbers
I could not focus ~ or react thus
now here's a cute phrase ~ DIPPLE DABBERS
they're not like "p r i n g l e s" ~
They're just "ADAPTERS"!
Note ~ Hi Mark Pringle (our poetic benefactor) Had to say something that could
separate the wimps from the "snappers!"
SIX AND SO SICK
into the eternal. far from the real
saddened by six bells which no longer peel
six clappers stand now, stilled and so quiet
death took them away and life could not deny it
extinguished were six flames, flickering names
players were they in such dangerous games
equestrians, gamesmen, strong upon steed
but unmounted and showed did their need
gone into the eternal by me they'll be missed
gallant they rode into smoke of the mist
my eyes saw as they rode, and a tear did I form
their end, although painful, was far from the norm
choking and vomiting, death was not calm
did once all they wanted was a shot in the arm
paid they the price for their weakness of soul
now six of them lay six feet deep in a hole
© 2012...copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Voices choral, chimes of clay ring out
oh so merrily to a wintry sky
And earthen sounds once silent, still, now shout
in harmony and majesty, they cry.
A brightness sheers the air as metal sounds,
long cylinders of brass clink in the breeze
like childish laughter each fresh note abounds
a thankful note the past year to appease.
In churches, mosques and temples they sing
as clappers sound the tone around their rims
forged of metal, or blown in glass, they ring
resounding as the hours of this year dim.
Rejoice, rejoice a New Year has begun
Goodbye they toll and sing here comes the sun.
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