A banjo plays in a bodega,
a saxophone sex- phones itself.
A door proclaims its ding and dong
voltaic birds bounce along
upon a tin tintinnabulum,
flickers of auricular featherings
wipe off a billion years of dust.
Alabaster hands poised in mid-air,
the kinetics of gesture and stillness.
A strange music is at prayer,
we are there as cobwebs
chiming with every cadence and quiver.
Doorways open their choiring mouths
now cowbells dong
in an all too brief collective
singalong.
Snot nosed, barefoot
Chanting, walk the streets
Spit flies from mouth, food on cheek
Green, ripe, and free
Dirty and unkempt
Unbridled and unmanageable
Wild child
Dolls and toy trucks
Mudpies and hopscotch
Bugs and jump rope
Torn clothes, holes in socks
Scraped knees and mud on shoes
Marching on, they're marching on
They're marching on
Drums rattle, off beat
Out of tune flutes, cowbells and slide whistles
Ringing bent triangles while singing loudly
Songs without chords
Melodies without rhythm
Games without rules
Things without reasons
Love without need
Enjoyment without thought
For the sake of it all, I guess
Enigmatic thinkers, unfamiliar and strange
They're marching on, they're marching on
They're coming here and soon
They've got a lot to say
They're coming out to play
Their voices cannot be drowned out
For nothing else is louder
A neglected letter is the 'z'
not as popular as a 'p'
nor as romantic as the 'r's'
In the panoply of letters, 'z' gets zero stars
Ah, but when it comes to animals
Why, 'Z' excels!
Next to 'Z' even Piggy smells
~ Give old 'Z' as in 'Zoo' five cowbells
Oh, the beauty of the BELLS of my life.
First, there were the SCHOOL BELLS.
Great sounding BELLS recessing me;
Sad sounding BELLS returning me;
Guiding BELLS directing me to new classes.
Those BELLS I heard for 12 years and more.
Once upon a time, I heard CHURCH BELLS ringing,
calling worshipers to sing, pray, and preach.
Although not as often, I heard those COWBELLS.
Those memorable BELLS, I heard as a child.
There often were the sounds of WEDDING BELLS;
BELLS of loving commitment and covenant romance.
Such BELLS of my very own rang more than 50 years ago.
I can hear those SALVATION ARMY BELLS;
BELLS that return every Christmas Season;
BELLS that encourage me to give joyfully.
Oh, what unforgettable BELLS that show and tell.
120823PS
The decorated bull was upset
Somebody thought he was a woman
Cows are women, bulls are men!
How much more male could he be?
He put his nose into the air,
Angry with the decorator.
Irritated about the huge bell too.
It is cow bells, people, not bull bells!
great grandma Suzette loved cows,
her house was decorated in a variety of bovines.
Jersey cows, milk cows, angus cows, dairy cows,
her living room was filled with cows, bulls, horns and cowbells.
grandma Suzette would take her favorites aside one at a time
and promise us her favorite cow pillow.
she promised it to two cousins, Aunt Linda,
Linda’s son and one grandson-in-law.
we all promised to take care of it.
we pretended we would be thrilled to receive it.
It had blue rickrack around the outside and was one of a kind.
I am pretty sure one of her relatives made it.
when she left this earth, she ended up taking it with her.
we put it into her coffin, it seemed fitting.
Mostly it's just gluing bones together
ones found in a well furrowed field
a scattering of empty joints,
undetectable until tripped over.
An iron-age rebar
can be dug for
it will girder one socket to another.
The framework reconstructs itself
emptiness becomes whole
yet still see through.
There are sharp edges and blunt sounds,
they will clang like cowbells if not polished
into a ringing voice.
Sneak up on yourself,
rattle an echoing skull until teeth chatter
in a free-floating mind.
Whatever tumbles out of that
will be a loosely connected osseous process -
dead on arrival of course.
Pull the invisible strings - make it dance.
your bag of bones just nailed it
but what is it?
July Joy
July arrives spreading county fair spells
Pink chubby pigs and roan cows with cowbells
Excitement grows in fields and through the dells
Gold medal livestock for new clientele.
Hear the music of the carousel
Take a ride on Ferris wheels air cells
Take a chance on arcade games as well
Knock down all the bottles then ring the bell.
Revel in corn dogs and cotton candy smells
Sweet corn and cakes – prize winning show and tell
Jams and jellies with blue ribbons excel
Crisp green apples coated with caramel.
Rows of prized roses and vases of bluebells
Honorable mentioned quilts shaped like seashells
First place red barn paintings, sunset pastels,
County fairs with fireworks sheer joy foretells.
8-1-22
Contest: Christmas in July or July Celebration
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone
Faking a heart attack
last July
was an event.
Even the feds were
marshaled for action.
Cow bells.
Whose got cowbells?
Words can’t harm you.
I’m restless.
Turn on the channel;
click on Oxford.
Turn up the volume;
Let’s play baseball.
About.
About what?
There’s a thriller.
Toot your horn.
Bring the station wagon
around front.
Business as usual.
The cow was playing cowbells,
Giddy Goat joined in on his guitar,
The horse was hoofing bongo drums.
Animals started coming from afar.
The chicken clucked an egg out,
Pig was oinking right in time,
Duck was tinkling on her triangle
While dog was hammering on his chime.
Pussy picked up her piccolo,
Goose was flapping on his flute,
Donkey brayed on a big trombone,
It really was a farmyard hoot!
-more poems like this can be found at:
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
No bells but cowbells
Clang in the glen;
Bird-song and maid-song
Sing without end;
Sunlight and dewlight
Quiver and shine;
No heart but your heart
Beats into mine.
Homesick in this month, October,
for old friends I now most yearn.
Take me back to that warm hearth
where my soul seeks quick return.
Trapped here in this asphalt jungle,
longing for frsh air and field,
farm with bulging barn and silo
storing many crops of yeild.
October mist on morning meadow,
calming peace at early day,
recalls to mind the harvest season,
life lived in a better way.
Cowbells clanging on far paths,
heavy chores by morning sun,
weary heads that rest on pillow
when a long day's work is done.
Soon the weather will be changing,
time to linger, rake the leaves,
cut firewood, mend the fences,
thoughts that force my heart to grieve.
Take me to that place I wandered,
carefree dreamer, just a child.
Let those memories be my future.
Take me from this city wild.
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