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My mind was like a knotted string
And it claimed it would rid me of my pain
I would wake up with the sound of the bell's ring
But the chime never once came

It turned my thoughts into a sparkling blue mist
Which for an instant, shut them up
It left me drained, and my parted lips (face) it kissed
And I still haven't woken up

I tried so hard to understand it
But it left me in a blank, angry fit
It was no longer even fun
Because when I fought back, it had won

For a mere instant, I again felt sane
But my head had an aching pain
It told me I would awake in only ten
But when I stood up, back down I fell again

So I attempted to wait it out the longest
Till early day and late at night
But that's when it was the strongest
And I had lost another fight
this is my 109th poem, written on 7/1/24. no this is not about drugs !!
In the heart of Manali, where whispers dwell,  
Hangs a sacred treasure, a temple bell.  
From the wooden roof, intricately carved,  
It sings ancient tales, timeless and starved.  

Each chime echoes through the mountain air,  
A call to the spirits, a silent prayer.  
In its bronze heart, stories softly resound,  
Of seekers and sages on holy ground.  

Beneath the carved beams, a history weaves,  
In every note, the past never leaves.  
In Vashishtha's embrace, it swings with grace,  
A resonant soul in a sacred place.
Alpha Jan 2022
The bells are ringing,
Night, they're singing,
Time to go to bed.
The monsters waiting,
Mothers cradling
Children who'll soon be dead.
Unfinished, yet. I'll finish it some other day, promise!
Carl D'Souza Oct 2021
I am
writing
poetry
on Hello-Poetry
and I am
Bell-Happy
when I get
a Bell.
Norman Crane Aug 2021
on the ropes: pummelled;
somehow, he stays on his feet:
the bell ends the round!
Philip Connett Apr 2021
Angel form of angel bells
Knell to the springtime of our love
Forebear to the summer heat ensue
Requite endure of somas delight
Feracious profundity verdurous express
The unct of skin and alls impress
From angels hearth of arch and tecture
I speak to you of perfecture
For if this bodies embrace wrapped in skin
Holds a heart that's true
Then let me see form of your face
And be with our love due
In the above poem the word 'arch' is pronounced as the word 'arc' following the form of the word 'architecture' thus complementing the phonetic flow of the poem's prosody:  the intention, if there is such a thing, is for the word 'arch' to carry the word associations of that particular word whilst carrying the phonetic form of the word 'arc' and thus carrying forthwith word associations of this particular word - it's all in the architecture...
Safana Aug 2020
Ring the Bell
Ring it, well
Ring the Bell
can see, a skell
from dry well
They sight it well
A wealthy kvell
spell it and yell,
*
Ring the Bell
And paupers
           yawningly mispell
Bcause,
           They can see not well
They said:
           Blood well instead farewell

Ring the Bell
Everyone is unwell
The tears is upwell
No tasty, they smell
All sadness are swell
And hungry is quell

Ring the Bell
Again,
          Difficulties swell
          No one to dwell
          For a bit on snell
          Uphill is upswell

Ring the bell
And,
Ring it well!
Be alert and alert everyone to help those needy ones everywhere in this world.
Anais Vionet Jul 2020
So
hot
cute
smart
cuddly
Dances
attentive
seductive
accessible
Sy­mpatico
intoxicating
mesmerizing
college bound
straightforward
smart as a whip
eager to please
always on time
100% truthful
pleasurable
enthralling
incredible
*******
funniest
gen­tle
sweet
****
soft
fun
some observed boyfriend qualities in a humorous bell curve shape
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.

*

Published by Penny Dreadful, The HyperTexts, the Anthologise Committee and Nonsuch High School for Girls (Surrey, England)

Also published by Michael R. Burch writing as Immanuel A. Michael and Kim Cherub

Keywords/Tags: Listen, heed, prophet, crying, wilderness, voice, prophecy, black, white, gray, moon, wind, speak, speaking, speech, instruction, teaching, warning, omen, illuminations, intimations, ears, hear, judgment, bell, toll, tolling, peal, pealing, tone, I, Am

Note: The poet as a “madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness” is likened to John the Baptist, foretelling a momentous “second coming”: his own, with no other Messiah in sight.
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