Long Doorbells Poems
Long Doorbells Poems. Below are the most popular long Doorbells by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doorbells poems by poem length and keyword.
VISITING WITH THOSE DARN SHOES
accused of goodie two shoes
“why are you so darn honest,”
a wild cousin once quipped,
as she helped her son with
cable wires as doorbells drilled
in our heads, hiding evidence.
the bells of saint mary’s church
a holy honest place, tinkling
with grace and hiding fugitives.
one shaking in her quaker boots,
leaden legs sent to deal with
the establishment, that
mental place, a quickening of
sick. and laughter ding dongs
in the rafters, quilts on
the wired clothes live lies.
later to return to the scene
where a peep is heard,
“turn me off” – a vibrating toy?
my cousin chides,
“well, at least it didn’t say
turn me on”
two shoes step lightly,
across the squeaky floorboards,
two shoes left outside,
two in trash disposal,
two feet missing from a beat,
cancer had the last laugh
boy, do i miss her!
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
In loving memory of my cousin
The Dasher all dressed ready
Delivering snacks to the many
Leaving in the night
Serving those willing to pay the price
Hurrying through dinner and out the door
Hoping he can make some more
The streets are dark, the traffic light
As he dashes through the night
No doorbells, knocking or people to see
Just leave on the doorstep and text me
Tips are large, tips are small
Happy to get them all
Missing his bed, wife and dogs
He is out there giving to the cause
Driving from store to store
Running from door to door
This is definitely not a job for the weak
As you hardly get any sleep
Dash Away, Dash Away All
Dash Away, Dash Away to the next call
A banjo is playing in the bodega.
A door proclaims its ding and dong
voltaic birds bounce to its tintinnabulum,
flickers of auricular featherings
wipe shelves of a million years of dust.
The banjo is at prayer and you are there
as you peal with its cadence and quiver.
The bodhisattva
they that dynamo the sonic tides,
the waves,
air waves, sounding and soundless,
who sparkle
in the high deep heavens
and in the low wallows
where ankles are the muddy roots
of wind chimes and cow bells.
Sounds unleashing
the knelling thunder of peace.
Alabaster hands poised in mid-air
signaling an elemental perfection.
The kinetics of gesture and stillness,
as doors open their choiring mouths,
as banjos mimic the sounds
of all practicing avatars,
and we hearing
only the ding yet missing the dong
unthinking un-ring Gods temple gong.
"Another Man’s Treasure"
Jetsam tumbles
broken doorbells
no one
answers
anymore
ironing boards
pressing to imprint
something of significance
a life, your life
droll and predictable
it all sinks
to the bottom
of a bad dream
with yesterday’s
stale tears
sharp heels
clicking on a parquet floor
like knives ripping words
jagged scratches on old wallpaper
like a warning thrown at a wall
Sundry feelings furry
ageing inevitable
intimate moments blurry
moulding green against a new life
you prophesy diamond clean
their part in your life
half-state now
pill swallowed
like a bad dream
forgotten
and
there you sit and twirl
grinning from ear-to-ear
on your swivelling black leather chair
before a glowing screen
lighthouse revolver ready
evolving
glowing prisms adrift
blue ribbons of seaweed green
tangled in your wide Sargasso Sea
morse code blinking reverie
lost memories pleasantly drowned
like a murderess you pin them down
then, the tight grasp of possibilities
rise to face the horizon
eventually, they are Marco Polo found
and
there you are
midpoint
hovering
poised
waiting
Unconditional
Singular
One man’s trash
Another Man’s Treasure
(LadyLabyrinth/2020)
"Wonders of the Deep" / Chemical Brothers
https://youtu.be/xHEgT--jJLk
Quote: "“I love you and that’s the beginning and end of everything.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald1.
As soon as I came home,
She waited by the door,
No inkling of when I'd roam,
Love's footsteps yearning for more.
Thoughts of love, they dance, unsure,
Caged desires like a bird's sweet cries,
She longed to break free, to procure,
Yet deep love kept her ties.
Now, no one's there, just the floor,
I wait, doorbells silent chimes,
In solitude, I explore,
Echoes of love in these times.
In the stillness of the night's embrace,
I seek solace, finding grace.
Memories dance, a bittersweet song,
Echoes of love, once so strong.
Alone I stand, yet not alone,
For love's essence I've ever known.
Though she may not be by my side,
Her love in my heart will forever abide.
Through the silence, whispers of love,
Echoes from the heavens above.
In each moment, I find my way,
Guided by love's eternal ray.
Sitting uncomfortably on my kitchen chair, waiting for the doorbell to ring,
I think back to past Halloweens, underlying feelings - this uneasiness thing.
Do these feelings stem from my childhood or knowledge of All Hallows’ eve,
Or is it that I live way out in the country - has my mind just taken its leave.
Historically this night was thought to be, all wandering souls’ last chance
To revenge their enemies before entering the realm of their final dance.
Costumes and masks were worn to avoid being recognized by a lost soul,
Jack-o-lanterns of turnips remembered those in purgatory, that was the goal.
Raised in a quiet little village, Halloween was always a time of high alert,
Rumors and folklore outlined of terrible fires, of animals and people hurt,
I would watch my father the town’s clerk prepare for this horrendous night,
Each sign of concealment, a whisper just added to my ever growing fright.
Store owners sat quietly in the dark waiting for pranksters to soap windows,
The farmers watched for signs of movement by barns and over meadows.
Volunteer fire fighters sat by the phone to respond covertly to any barn fire,
No sirens were used tonight, reduce the alarm, or so they tried to conspire.
My best friend lived out in the country, we would trick or treat together,
Her parents drove us around all the country roads in the stormy weather.
Pumpkins would flicker eerily on the railings of front porches as a guide,
Acknowledging someone was home with treats, you were welcome inside.
But every single cornstalk moved in different directions adding to my fear,
No doorbells to ring or bright street lights to show the masquerades clear,
Fires burned in the distance, yellow and orange flames licked at the night sky,
Now cars pull down my gravel driveway, is this a murderer, am I going to die.
With each knock, I take my life in my hands and open the front door,
This time I see a little princess and a funky monster walk onto my floor.
It is now late and I move to the jack-o-lantern to blow out the candle,
Another Halloween - the fear and fright - too much for me to handle.
Written September 7, 2012
For Gail Doyle’s Halloween Night contest
It's the look in your eye.
It's the smile on your face.
That makes time slip by.
And I know I am in a better place.
It's every moment spent with you,
That makes my grey skies turn blue.
And lets me know that these feelings I have are true.
Getting lost in my own dreams.
With a mere image of you.
It's hard to imagine, you are the sweetest thing that I know.
It seems a future lost, one without you.
I love the way you hold me when the lights go low.
You shake my soul every time like a pot hole.
You have my heart.
And even when you ain't besides me,
I trust you to always keep it whole.
See, your love is the river on which my life sails.
Those tin wind chimes used for the doorbells of my heart.
Like fields and trees, your adorable scent fills my lungs.
I wanna spent the rest of my life besides you.
For you are the flint that sparkles the lighter,
And the fuel that holds the flame.
Wamilia, uli kamuli ka'rosa with a sweet scent.
I found love, when I found you.
And if your are infectious like covid-19,
I will happily catch you.
I need no life savers
I feel comfortable drowning inside you.
For you are the lighthouse in the night that will safely guide me back home.
When I think of my father my heart
starts beating in time with his 7 A.M.
footsteps on hardwood floors.
His image rests in the second chamber
of my heart. If I could shrink you
down and put you in there, you’d hear
the sharp, industrial twang of golf balls
alongside windblown, sun-wrecked dune reeds and shark
fins cresting the ocean’s ceiling.
My nose fills with scents of SPF 4
and scheduled coffee. Salt spray off
the foreshore permeates the air as he runs
up and down the neural pathways he forged
with white hot reaffirmations and ice cold habits.
If you were to run the needle over my
inherited, though painted skin, the music would
radiate in clouds of bookstore doorbells,
deafening sneezes and sports bar televisions.
This year I’m starting construction on a new
chamber in my heart; one just to hold
the memories of my father, a chamber filled
with the loud, consistent banging of beanbags on wood,
a chamber big enough for me to chase after
frisbees tossed with sixty-eight-year-old skill
most crucially, a chamber with integrity
enough to hold the blue, persistent flame
in focus long enough for me to light my own
cigarette, and smile as the smoke comes out.
The new room design has soundproof walls
and the door and locks are all fireproof,
withstanding flames as hot as the water my
mother uses to wash his greasy meatloaf pans.
SISTERHOOD OF AVON
Oh how I miss the sisterhood
the brrr...ringing of a bell
a catalog and a smile in hand
the scent of sweet cologne
nearly met customers at the door
miraculously in their own flavor
jingle jangle of jewelry
not fine but touchy-feely
and collectibles how i miss them
and the sweep of my youthful skirt
i was God-blessed with territory
— assigned not chosen,
a secondary job
i recollect three households
heaven sent, angelic psalms
as if I had travelled beyond earth’s borders
first woman, straight-laced, strict
believed every lady should wear skirts
a Christian, perhaps too pharisaical
Brr...ring at twilight and a gruff voice
a man barks, “who is it?!”
taken aback, “the Avon lady…”
a lovely woman practically
knocks over her husband, to answer
the door, sporting silver hair
she invites me in and we chat
over a quite different setting
— relaxed
Christian wearing pants,
so cheery and warming
— the bite of her husband mosquito-like
And now I’m not joking —
Christian sisters living next to each other...
do you see the theme of my life?
this dear woman’s married to a dermatologist —
certainly woman do tip their hat of facts
so i go off to water aerobics and notice my skin
has a rash
so i call
and being young and brash
ask
if i can ask her husband’s advice
the next morning i tell my boss — a naval Master Chief
that i needed to see a dermatologist,
and he laughs, “you’ll never get in”
i say, “sir, i already have an appointment”
so i had shingles, just on the cusp,
and was saved from much pain
for God is good all the time
all the time God is good
and when i step over the border into the heavenly realm
i will still sing of his goodness!
Brr...ring i miss the fine company and the singing
of customer’s doorbells
and one day i will hug my fine
sisters
12/21/2018
I’ve finally come home from my island
I don’t remember life bein’ this hard
I’m a castaway who never saw no ship
I’m a prisoner who never entered the yard
Who will take me in
Back to their civilization?
I’ve been ringin’ on doorbells, lookin’ in boxes
Checkin’ for a sign of love
The masters had it in for me
So I prayed to the masters above
That somebody take me in
Into their civilization
What am I really?
Who am I truly?
Where do I fit in?
With my problems all solved
I guess I’m evolved
Adaptive and reactive
In civilization
They came for me on my island
But I didn’t really wanna be saved
Amid the icicles of self-reliance,
Let me carve out my home in a cave
Who will take me in
Back to their civilization?