Short Clapper Poems

A Zen Koan

 A bell that has no clapper
can still be rung!
...

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marsh
hear the rattle of the clapper rail
buffer of strong seas
grassy refuge of the great egret
wetlands...

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When asked why I can’t find my keys,
I snicker, and then I say please…..
I have a clapper
and I’m very dapper,
just don’t ask me to please cut the cheese!...

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Her name was fancy Ann flapper Bell
they called her the bell of the ball
the story goes, she was a flapper
who married a clapper,
a fine banger of the bell....

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Listen to poem:

"Clapper Rail, Condor, 

Loggerhead Shrike and a lost,  

Whooping Crane, rarer..."

"Stop!" "Did you make the chess team?"

"No, because I am too short."...

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Listen to poem:

well
at last
after delay
bell poem form is here
recognised as new poem type
and so give it a go, in shape and mode
remembering to add clangor
clapper
ding
...

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Pen over paper

Over your body is a caper

Exhibits a clapper

Twists like a rapper

Rendition of a writer

Your style peps and ponder

Soup that heals not wither

Outshining like a saber

Unleash your power

Power of poetry... in you!...

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Am I in a act of play,
did the clapper board come down
just as I looked away?

I see the crowd,
their eyes embedded,
Is this the nightmare,
that I've dreaded?

Standing alone
the spotlight screaming,
my hope in God, is,
That I'm just dreaming....

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Victims claim the well must be capped
Zapped off by their hands two times clapped 
But oil will still leak
While their talking heads speak
Logic tapped from minds that have snapped 
 

Author's note:  Are the people on this site too high class to know about the clapper?  I thought this was funny????...

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i'm whiskey beats outta country
jazz, too classic
old's city in LA
high damn
runnin up you like water
all most hiding skin

and overatures 
lest i grieve through absurd
trist's with confi, daunting
clapper town

east block alter girls
choired saints lost frames
too paint
sorry bouts 
runnin up like water's mam...

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BB's really rattle in the shell
Of a container,loose like bell
Clapper, hanging free to ding
Ideas rattle in poet's brain to ring

The audience, and awake from sleep
Oh! Into a new dimension of deep
Thoughts, understanding of heights above
The ordinary, into a new realm of love  (truth)


(Thank you Lord for your blesssings on me.)...

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In the country, we do not have city shine,
we have luster, 
we have the glimmer of voles,
the fumes of turbid crawlers
under the slow burn of iridescent woods. 

We who night-watch
see from sunken waters,
gather light from luminous cisterns.
We understand black;
how it sheens the clapper claw.

On the pitch of the concealed
a country ken leads us to a quickened vision,
we see as a horse sees
fleeing from a fire breathing barn....

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My bells, are shared with you,
At the ringing  in of the taut day
And the ringing out of the mayfly

The bells, brazen, lucid, warm,
Silence the chatter of the clouds,
Bring solace to a weary ear

And the peeling bellow of the rim,
The clatter of the clapper, urged on by 
Yolk, the busy carillon two octaves tall

Falls quiet the nightfall comes, tied the 
Ringers’ rope on wooden stop; cadence,
Hum, now spins the air in hollow cup



Written for Bells contest   3/8/15...

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