#ringer - Hello Poetry

The sky phased through twilights, but it was a nautical dusk that forced my eyes open That fateful night , the heavens cracked open like a split glacier, spewing what I thought to be a sweetling star Ribbons of molten silver cascaded into the cliffs beyond the village, and beyond the tower— no blaring horns, but a glow, one of the brightest, deepest blues that faded into the cliff’s roughage like a sigh— I swayed above in the bell tower, mouth agape, hands tangled in ropes No star burned slow like a candle— no meteor bends so softly like vines Winding into the hills and mountains My eyes caught the extraterrestrial being, a shadow draped with wings ablaze, sparking— I could see a body, not a meteor, then tumbling and skittering like shards of glass across the empty copper pit Soon it became darker, and only the stars were my guide toward the old quarry, Where I began the slow descent to meet the foreign sprite Who etched its supernova trail into my eyelids As I trekked closer to this form, to this exo-, My sight blurred and doubled for seconds at a time, I was swallowed by smells and sounds that I knew could not exist— And I stopped before the mine’s mouth, where veins of Blue John Slithered deeper into the cave, and my breath was caught in the air, As I trembled and knelt into the dust, knees kissing the earth There it laid — a glimmer caught between rocks, dirt, and shadows, Its breath, too, shallow, and its chest fluttering like a hatchling that fell out of the nest while learning to fly It took on the form of a woman, it seemed, a woman that was covered In diamond dust, coldness crawled from her skin, her sweat was liquid Hydrogen, and she shuddered and coughed and flailed With haste, with clumsiness, with care I rolled her onto her side as she gagged and coughed, splinters of quartz and ore flew out of her trembling mouth— behind her were her wings, in large broken pieces “Oh, sweetling,” I hummed, “look at your wings: They’re crushed, broken, snapped — they’re in oblivion,” Her eyes fluttered open; in a weak attempt, she pushed herself upwards “How can an angel like you fly off to Heaven now?” I cooed, Swatting sweat from her forehead tenderly, catching her as she fell once more, a fall gentler than before; yet Gravity’s grip forbade her to look up “You,” I breathed, and her skin, like a chameleon, changed From once unseen colors into full ocher brown with pink undertones and pink veins “You ought to stay here and I ought to fix your wings,” She did not resist as she laid her head, filled with tendrils and coils, On my chest, her hair chanting whispers and secrets I carried her and her broken wings in my arms; she spoke– She uttered her name as a song, she sang vowels that my mouth could not shape, Sounds my anatomy was forbidden to use “You ought to stay here and I ought to sew your wings back, You ought to stay here and I ought to bathe you, my pretty winglet,” I sang back to her, and her breaths were ballads of her past Carefully I brought her to my cottage, my humble living that was closest to the tower that I cared for, the bells that I rang, And too, like them, was she one that I cared for As the earth continued to spin, and the night continued to buzz, She rested in the corner near the crackling fire, her eyelashes touching The floorboards in an alien beauty— In the moment, I dreamed and wondered if my years of hard work And grit and solitude were repaid and blessed in the form of A starlet, or perhaps, really and truly, an angel Sent by the Great Lord Himself, to reunite my heart with The heart of the expanding fabric of space and time, To bring me closer to truths I’ve begged and cried for since a boy— “Shimmering, glimmering, glinting — like gun-metal, your wings, They resemble gun-metal,” and I worked during the sunlight in which she slept, And I lay beside her in a hammock during the twilight in which she came to me “Dull earth are your eyes, and little rocks still protrude from your skin, aye— A mess you are, Angel, and a cleanser, I am, Angel—”

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Jul 6, 2025

Jul 6, 2025 at 12:59 PM UTC

acacia

the bell man part 1

The sky phased through twilights, but it was a nautical dusk that forced my eyes open That fateful night , the heavens cracked open like a split glacier, spewing what I thought to be a sweetling star Ribbons of molten silver cascaded into the cliffs beyond the village, and beyond the tower— no blaring horns, but a glow, one of the brightest, deepest blues that faded into the cliff’s roughage like a sigh— I swayed above in the bell tower, mouth agape, hands tangled in ropes No star burned slow like a candle— no meteor bends so softly like vines Winding into the hills and mountains My eyes caught the extraterrestrial being, a shadow draped with wings ablaze, sparking— I could see a body, not a meteor, then tumbling and skittering like shards of glass across the empty copper pit Soon it became darker, and only the stars were my guide toward the old quarry, Where I began the slow descent to meet the foreign sprite Who etched its supernova trail into my eyelids As I trekked closer to this form, to this exo-, My sight blurred and doubled for seconds at a time, I was swallowed by smells and sounds that I knew could not exist— And I stopped before the mine’s mouth, where veins of Blue John Slithered deeper into the cave, and my breath was caught in the air, As I trembled and knelt into the dust, knees kissing the earth There it laid — a glimmer caught between rocks, dirt, and shadows, Its breath, too, shallow, and its chest fluttering like a hatchling that fell out of the nest while learning to fly It took on the form of a woman, it seemed, a woman that was covered In diamond dust, coldness crawled from her skin, her sweat was liquid Hydrogen, and she shuddered and coughed and flailed With haste, with clumsiness, with care I rolled her onto her side as she gagged and coughed, splinters of quartz and ore flew out of her trembling mouth— behind her were her wings, in large broken pieces “Oh, sweetling,” I hummed, “look at your wings: They’re crushed, broken, snapped — they’re in oblivion,” Her eyes fluttered open; in a weak attempt, she pushed herself upwards “How can an angel like you fly off to Heaven now?” I cooed, Swatting sweat from her forehead tenderly, catching her as she fell once more, a fall gentler than before; yet Gravity’s grip forbade her to look up “You,” I breathed, and her skin, like a chameleon, changed From once unseen colors into full ocher brown with pink undertones and pink veins “You ought to stay here and I ought to fix your wings,” She did not resist as she laid her head, filled with tendrils and coils, On my chest, her hair chanting whispers and secrets I carried her and her broken wings in my arms; she spoke– She uttered her name as a song, she sang vowels that my mouth could not shape, Sounds my anatomy was forbidden to use “You ought to stay here and I ought to sew your wings back, You ought to stay here and I ought to bathe you, my pretty winglet,” I sang back to her, and her breaths were ballads of her past Carefully I brought her to my cottage, my humble living that was closest to the tower that I cared for, the bells that I rang, And too, like them, was she one that I cared for As the earth continued to spin, and the night continued to buzz, She rested in the corner near the crackling fire, her eyelashes touching The floorboards in an alien beauty— In the moment, I dreamed and wondered if my years of hard work And grit and solitude were repaid and blessed in the form of A starlet, or perhaps, really and truly, an angel Sent by the Great Lord Himself, to reunite my heart with The heart of the expanding fabric of space and time, To bring me closer to truths I’ve begged and cried for since a boy— “Shimmering, glimmering, glinting — like gun-metal, your wings, They resemble gun-metal,” and I worked during the sunlight in which she slept, And I lay beside her in a hammock during the twilight in which she came to me “Dull earth are your eyes, and little rocks still protrude from your skin, aye— A mess you are, Angel, and a cleanser, I am, Angel—”

63

Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't oust her Standing up there on his dunghill fair Announcing to the whole world, to All everywhere My **** He's the greatest doodle doer O! that Roddy's Rooster. He don't need no booster, does Roddy's Rooster He'd even go after the goose sir Don't you fouster with this Rooster You'd only lose sir Now vamoose sir. Very dapper and quite the scrapper Patrolling his perimeter Strutting around the farmyard pound Invariably, henhouse bound If you were to meet him It'd be "Put up your dukes sir Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster". With his tail feathers all fluffed up Like a feather duster And his chest all puffed out Quite the Dandy and always randy What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster And O! what a Wooer, that wooey doodler. I I He came a cropper though one day When he fell in the Hopper Now he's a good deal shorter And not half as cocky as before, Now he sits on his wall lamenting his fall Thinking of the days when he used to have a ball Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck deserted him I wonder. Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy More Bandy than Dandy He still South's in the Summer But has doubts in the Winter, Now he likes to crow his woes and lows away Climbing up onto his dunghill, he greets the day But now in a high shrill falsetto voice He sings in a whole different way " I've been round the Ringer but I'm still quite a Dinger **** a Doodley Doo" Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer! O! that Roddy's Rooster. Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!

0

Mar 17, 2020

Mar 17, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC

bardo

Roddy's Rooster

Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't oust her Standing up there on his dunghill fair Announcing to the whole world, to All everywhere My **** He's the greatest doodle doer O! that Roddy's Rooster. He don't need no booster, does Roddy's Rooster He'd even go after the goose sir Don't you fouster with this Rooster You'd only lose sir Now vamoose sir. Very dapper and quite the scrapper Patrolling his perimeter Strutting around the farmyard pound Invariably, henhouse bound If you were to meet him It'd be "Put up your dukes sir Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster". With his tail feathers all fluffed up Like a feather duster And his chest all puffed out Quite the Dandy and always randy What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster And O! what a Wooer, that wooey doodler. I I He came a cropper though one day When he fell in the Hopper Now he's a good deal shorter And not half as cocky as before, Now he sits on his wall lamenting his fall Thinking of the days when he used to have a ball Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck deserted him I wonder. Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy More Bandy than Dandy He still South's in the Summer But has doubts in the Winter, Now he likes to crow his woes and lows away Climbing up onto his dunghill, he greets the day But now in a high shrill falsetto voice He sings in a whole different way " I've been round the Ringer but I'm still quite a Dinger **** a Doodley Doo" Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer! O! that Roddy's Rooster. Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!

55

We were bonded in birth As we will be in death I sealed our fate with a gun -- I took your wardrobe and buried my past in your grave -- Made a sacrifice so I could have another Chance at life Struck you silent so I Could ****** your voice, Felt no sorrow When pondering my choice I laid my debts to rest With all the ills I faced Revenge is sweet and Triumph better -- perhaps Because I was so bitter I stole your name your mansion too: but was it Really stealing, my dearest love, When the whole time I was you?

0

Apr 5, 2017

Apr 5, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC

imperfect-visage

Sisterhood

We were bonded in birth As we will be in death I sealed our fate with a gun -- I took your wardrobe and buried my past in your grave -- Made a sacrifice so I could have another Chance at life Struck you silent so I Could ****** your voice, Felt no sorrow When pondering my choice I laid my debts to rest With all the ills I faced Revenge is sweet and Triumph better -- perhaps Because I was so bitter I stole your name your mansion too: but was it Really stealing, my dearest love, When the whole time I was you?

22