Best Bell Poems
a
bell tolls
for two souls
crimson red
with passion
they started
at opposite ends
at full-throttle speed
racing to meet halfway
on the rendezvous rubicon
then they collided exploding
into
ONE
Date written and posted: 10/23/2016
Twenty Pints of Sunshine
David J Walker
It seemed to be the only thing
In abundance on the farm
The light and heat
The shine so bright
Long days
short nights
And work doled out in the mornings
Today we will bottle in bell jars
20 pints of sunshine
And call it canning
A summer seasons planning
Saved for the
Short days
The long nights
Of freezing winter weather
To be opened
It says
When sleet falls in December
When the woods are wet and dreary
When the farm is fallow
When sunshine can only be found
In pint-sized
Bell Jar bottles
We saw a dim light upon top of the Bell House Tower
a scream echoed out and then a dark shadow slipped
by the light, in the midnight hour.
What was that? I asked my friend, I don't know
she said, but it sounded as if something has met
it's end.
The wind was blowing with such a strange howling
and all the city lights were off making it dark for
mysterious prowling.
A loud, maddening laughter rang through the air and
stood on our arms, every one of our hairs. We ran like
crazy down the alley way and never looked back until
the light of day.
The next morning a crowd had gathered at the Bell House
Tower and every one was shocked to see it was the bell
ringer who rung the bell, hour upon hour.
Not a sign made anyone sure of what happened, but we know
what we heard in the midnight hour, mad laughter from upon
top the Bell House Tower.
"Bugger the "Group" mentality. I say burn it up with a revolutionary act, start your own Group. If you didn't exist, there would be no world. You are your own world, your own Cosmos, you are luminescent, keep on shining - the people who matter will move towards your light. Leave the other befuddled fools walk in the dark holding hands, following tails like sheep. This is a fantastic expression of your individuality. Always keep speaking your TRUTH." LLB
"Bedknobs, Bell Curves and a Broomstick"
Words of wisdom
sitting in bed
reading a story
from another person's head
A short story
titled "At the Edge of the Bell Curve"
registers ding ding ding
this is a mind
worthy to swim
Everyone has a story
some breathing fire
flying courageous
Majestic
saving people
outspread
Dragon Wings
Others are just
walking talking
milk and honey
Love-Ins
tap tap tapping
seeking numbers
for competitive wins
Heroic Acts
of pulling hidden
courageous minds
up from the road cracks
Now, that's pure,
GOLDEN
This is the true story
Blue Birds singing for
honey and flapjacks
hidden pearls
are the gems...
now there's no
turning back
ever again -
your REAL STORY
begins.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
Ref:
1. Short Story - "At the Edge of the Bell Curve", Poetry Soup.
2. Short Story - "The Legend Of Dar-Mok Luu", Poetry Soup.
3. "Smoke Rings" , Laurie Anderson.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyTBdPytCIk
"...Well I had a dream and in it I went to a little town
And all the girls in town were named Betty..." -
4. "Language is a Virus", Laurie Anderson.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR-AojanEA0
5. "I'm no Betty". Quote, Leanne Lovejoy-Burton
The 18th of December was her last day;
she neither knew the date nor cared to.
Gathered at the hospital, keeping vigil,
we never overcame her fright, or ours.
The pain, too great to be driven away,
was only managed with IV drips,
needles stuck in bruised appendages --
bony things, arms and legs, hands and feet.
Above the medicines and washes,
we sniffed her scent, which, more
than her familiar face, identified our mother --
a smell we never could mistake for any other.
It went quickly as her body cooled.
The rouged and pickled carcass they
displayed was more a statue than a person.
We planned to bury her with homely tokens,
like an ancient mummy: a family photo,
a brooch she liked, a pink hairbrush --
and the brass bell she rang to call
her keeper during her last years.
But, when the time came, I could not
bear to see her leave so finally.
I took the bell from her metal box.
Now, I ring it -- not to bring a keeper,
but to recall my mother on her birthday,
and on many dark days when I need her.
The Bells of my memory knell
With rhymes to sing and stories to tell
Although from afar I hear them come
My heart shall sense,
My thoughts shall dwell
For it is in forever's time that I will remember
A wonder, a friend,
Tom Bell
The tradition of marriage,
Bourgeois blackmail and baggage,
Is it all a bargain for men,
Is this what white weddings meant?
All the love that is lost,
And what is the ultimate cost?
A divorce court pizza,
Magistrate smirks like Mona Lisa,
Four corners, one for each,
Dog gets the crust, if it can reach,
Cats get the anchovies,
Were white weddings all for phonies?
When is the revolution?
Blancmange brides for pollution,
Bridesmaids-Little Bo Peeps on crack,
Does society cut us some slack?
We joined the bourgeoisie,
All ends in tears and hypocrisy.
They don't speak
those walls
only absorb
scraps of life
the stench of urine
lucky pennies
desperate art
and a ringing clamber of voices
that move with every rush of air
down winding subway tunnels
here life collides
in status
and in thunders
those walls
bear witness
to many miseries
and many wonders
on this day
the subway walls
mesmerised by a sight
never seen before
lamented
the death of beauty
as it passed thousands
gracefully
and ignored
rushing
skirts, pants, collars, cologne
rushing
fingers, slender, darting in a blur
hollow
minds, tempers, hellos and goodbyes
hollow
music, echoing, not a soul does it stir
lost
man to the intricate beauty of pattern
lost
eyes of passerbys to the empty roundabouts of life
fickle
strings snapping with the stress of exertion
fickle
ambition, love, expectation and strife
they were all mixed together
in a bowl of concrete walls
they whirled
six of Bach's greatest works
a handcrafted violin
from 1713
played by one of the greatest
violinists
in the world
he played incognito
only six people stopped
20 gave him money
and then continued
to walk
a three year old boy
was drawn
to the sound
his mother let him
listen
his eyes wide
and astound
but watches soon tick
and they tick too loud
and they drive
the crowd forward
as if stopping
is not allowed
Joshua Bell
let his bow fall limp
as the last of his music
was swallowed
by the whitenoise
of life
and screeching
metro trains
the only sound
of applaud
soon stolen
by a new rush of air
the subway walls
silent
reflect
people would find peace
in the thick of life
if only
they would
connect.
Hand in hand two sprites on a magic flight
with wings of crystal glass and fairy light
they flew, inside an abstract sky of white
wing to wing, one was nimble one was bright
Wearing taffet gowns of silky swishes
they were often flourishing their wishes
blessing all with benign hugs and squishes
tiny pixies, no bigger than mom's dishes
They were sent to baby rooms and wee ones
they shone like light from fifty golden suns
but every now and then they goofed all thumbs
and landed in a cabbage patch, oh crumbs !
they flew like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell
with magic wands to cast a spell, pell-mell
they scurried this way that and then oh well
they crazed it up and then they cast a spell.
Feb 26, 2023
Sponsor Eve Roper
Contest Name Nursery Rhyme
yellow daisy chain
Birkenstocks sandals
ukuleles play
peace sign happy face
a hippie child
1960’s
Woodstock music
pass around bong
free love flowing
bell bottoms
hip-huggers
lava lamp
flower
child
love
~Bells~
( The Bell )
Bells
I like them
All very big or
Small some are very old
Can find them in churches
And in emergencies some too
They just sound happy and sometimes
Sad
Bells
Are very sweet
And sound very nice
Toll in good bad times
I hear them pealing in
The distance with a nice
Sound giving time every day and
Hour
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
December.13.2015
~Author's Notes:
The "Bell" is a poetry style created by Dorian
Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000, on September,18,2010.
Cousin Bell moved into a maisonette,
Was promptly told she could not have a pet
Not a cat or dog
Not a fish or frog
What about a gorilla she just met?
I think there is a new vibration, I can feel it right here on my stoop.
Can you smell it in the wind, I’m thinking it might be some poop.
It could be a sudden division, of a burrito that stuck in my bowels.
I’m feeling a little emotional, can someone please hand me some towels.
My eyes are beginning to water, if anyone should even care.
I’m starting to feel quite dizzy, I could use a little fresh air.
I shouldn’t have eaten those beans, they are known as a magical fruit.
They come in so many different colors, but I guess they all still make you toot.
Hurry and get off of my stoop, or you’ll experience a change from within.
When the smell has marginally decreased, then you are welcome to come back in.
I’ve experienced an influx of gas, please forgive me and try not to hate.
Lord help me I love Taco Bell, but that burrito I never should have ate.
Then comes the call of the witch named Kabbath,
That signals the start of All Hollow's Black Sabbath.
And, from the dark crypts and the blackest of holes;
Come the night creatures, as the Midnight Bell Tolls
Come Goblins and ghoulies, black creatures all hassled.
Come the fiends of the night that haunt the High Castle.
To the cemetery fields where the undead lay waiting
For the black orgy to begin their unholy mating.
Witches, black sorcerers, and warlocks all
Dance to the wind at this black magic ball.
Their music the cry of ten million lost souls;
All hither they come as the Midnight Bell Tolls.
All gathered at last, at this darkest of hours.
To wait for the sign of Satan's great power.
That'll send them in search all over the world,
To capture the souls of ye boys and ye girls.
So, let this be a warning this Halloween night
And pay heed to thy parents, they know what is right.
Though you search for sweet treats, wherever you stroll.
Be safe in your beds, when the Midnight Bell Tolls.
There's
the bell,
children rush out,
strawberry, chocolate,
choose your pick, it's time to enjoy.
Somewhere far, victims of war rest in peace.
Bomb explodes, ice creams melt, smiles freeze.
bells toll
death.
06/16/2017