All clocks chime in unison,
Silence recoils quick
It's always a criminal time to fight/
To fizz away our furies and our fears
in violent interactions within 'The Warrior Play'/
To unite in bouts/
Put personalities in liberty/
to bring about the death reaction
Untangled in all this
Is an eye/
It paces and turns
forgetful and lost ;
a powerless ghost and a witness
to these mad spoilings and energy fits/
This pinball of the battlefield
is catalyst ;
The untouched spirit of the weapon-head/
a war chime
and the thirst of all of us 'soldiers'
- in pattern & in population
Every clock stops,
it just depends which chime.
Yours was twenty seconds ago..
This grandfather is never being wound again.
My mother likes to hang bells
On the front door,
And I always wondered
What they were for.
They would jingle
With the light
from the lamppost
On the street.
But they became dull
Hanging all day,
And the giggling clatter
Mulled and dulled
to a brassy bray.
Mom has a small wedding bell
Of a silver boy
With a smiling grin.
He’s asking her to ring him
And bring back memories.
But father’s guitar glistens
Whilst the sun lays low.
With one pluck
The vibration hums
Smooth and mellow.
But can you hear it
Sitting on the steps?
This house is so large
But there still lays unrest.
And through The corridor
Clacks the patter
Of greyed canine feet.
But some of us
And reap the past
From the sounds
That do dare speak.
the living room clock
Drones with That of a distant chime,
Because the living arrangements
Have changed overtime.
An availing light only calm wind
if a morning without rain now
a humid night awaken too
a time born of paradise
that let me pray with jubilee again
my crêpe flambé full of surprises
has me kiss their pain today
that knowledge first isn't the key
for a bastion here in cyberspace.
Anyone else hear the sum of their life
Not in the ringing of chimes
But the hum before they fade away?
I've been lost in time
these last few months -
with clocks that won't tock
and days that won't stop.
And I was happy.
Or maybe a little too comfortable.
It's all the same -
because the sun won't always shine
and you can't stop the rain.
But time will always find you
and I'm here now.
So where are you?
Are you hiding too?
Running from the monotonous chime -
the one that dictates your waking
and your slumber -
your not so silent slumber.
Trapped within the walls of time,
is this living?
Or is this death?
It doesn't matter,
the trees will still grow
And I'm here now -
I wear bells now -
to throw that monotonous chime
out of time.
So where are you?
Do you wear bells too?
I don't weep -
no, I don't cry.
Because tears don't harmonise
with the monotonous chime.
Your tears are like wind chimes,
as your heart brakes so softly,
silent you try but this you cant hide.
You've tried to be sweet, and keep the melody up beet,
but sometimes the wind goes and dies.
But no your not fragile,
from this you shall grow.
That although your tears fall like wind chimes,
you are stronger than most know.
Yes you are hurt ,
because you feel burnt,
but dear you are a wind chime ,
you've faced so much worse.
From storms in the sky,
and when the earth quakes from bellow,
you have faced so much worse that you must know.
Dear the wind shall come again
jut be carful to who you give your heart to spend
I call myself a bell-flower,
as you cannot hear my tremulous chime
and I am decorated in purple and blue blossoms
on the only home that holds me tight
though I still want to crawl out of it
and grow up in someone else’s
Through tight slits in wooden slats
I catch the three-legged wind chime
Which hangs by a thread from
An overhung roof, by the gutter.
The owl - whom keeps watch,
Double sided, double gazing
At the goings on in the garden and
Mirrored happenings on the wall -
Sits quietly at the centre of his universe
With knotted thoughts so intertwined
For years he has neglected
Or perhaps forgotten how to
Play the jingle resting on the breeze.
The legs which dangle from the
Moon with noisy knees have
Lost their tone or dulled to make
Their silent stand against my wanting ears -
A fitting punishment.
The only steps to stifle my regret are
Toward the watching eyes to
Shake the clapper;
Summoning a tempest to end an age
Of silence from the much too long
Forsaken keeper of the chime.
I looked out the window I sit next to every day and spotted a wind chime that I hadn't heard in years.