Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘bells’

 

 

 

Suddenly everything is bell.

The bright clang of the spoon

stirring in the metal pot.

The scraping black note of crow.

Creak in the porch board

as I step into shadow.

Horn of a passing car.

What isn’t a call to attention?

Horse whinny. Airplane hum.

Dishwasher whirr. What

isn’t a bell to wake us up,

remind us to bring our attention

here. Whisper of leaves.

Squeak of the door hinge.

The small sigh escaping our lips.

Read Full Post »

 

 

while the bells of the heart

clamor and clang,

catching a ride on the clapper

Read Full Post »

6:15 a.m.

 

 

 

All night I waited for the sound of bells to wake me.

I waited so long I wondered if they had been rung

but I had not heard. I wondered if I had forgotten

 

what bells sounded like. I wondered if the ringer of bells

had overslept and I should go wake her or rise

and ring the bells myself. And when at last the bells

 

were swung and charged the air of the halls

with their bright brass song, I laughed out loud in the dark,

amazed I could believe I’d forgotten the sound of bells.

 

What else do I think I’ve forgotten that is so wholly present here?

Some sense of purpose? Some sense of communion?

Some understanding of what it means to love?

 

What if these things are clear, clear as the sound

of bells? Oh fool who waits and waits for something

to appear. Is it possible whatever your waiting for is here?

Read Full Post »

 

 

 

Here is the heart

asking the bells to be quiet

so that it might hear

its own beating.

 

Here is the blind man

who climbs the mountain

by listening to the song of bells

worn by the guide in front of him.

The path is getting steeper.

Oh heart, there’s no reason

to pretend you’re alone.

We’re all wearing bells

for each other. We all

need a song to follow.

Read Full Post »

The bells are lost, the bells
are lost, oh Lorca, the bells,
the bells are lost. Let us
make of our bodies, then, the bells
that chime of old green fruit
and cinder and the raven’s yellow
eye. Let us be the bells that clang
for the clouds that can
travel across any sky, let us
be the bells that ding love,
love, love, oh Lorca, here,
hear the bells? Spiraling
ding and listen, oh bing,
let us dance then, oh ohm
the poets are come, oh awe.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: