"jingles" poems
Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.
But
I desire
something so much deeper.
I want
an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.
I want
to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.
I want
to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee
I want
our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.
I want
to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.
I want
to hurt with him
I want
to save the world with him
I want
to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.
I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.
It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 11:35 PM UTC
Your collar bell jingles
And all the other felines
Look at you as though
You are a Queen
You smile and shake your head
The collar bell jingles louder
The sequins on the collar sparkle
The Lady Feline smiles deeply
I put a compact mirror in front
Of her face the other day
(Mind you, cats usually
Don't like looking at themselves in mirrors)
And the Lady Feline stared at herself
For long periods of time
Sometimes blinking
Sometimes squinting
Always smiling though
Such adorable vanity
And her collar bell jingles
As if she's trying to attract
All the male felines
And make them love her
~Marian~
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Is there love for another?
Much like this?
One's that unconditional,
unrestricted.
One so free...
That skeptical eyes would miss.
The beauty in such a commitment,
can't be quantified in greens or gold.
Unbound by petty materialism...
That jingles and folds.
It's invaluable...
Only to the ones who would see
and acknowledge it.
It's coveted only by those
who fearlessly dare
to embrace it.
So...
Strive for unconditional love.
For it is the greatest gift,
anyone could receive
and bestow.
For it will be the sun
that fires
the beats in your heart.
For it is the abundant glow
cascading...
From the moon's
limitless flow.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
*Wind Chimes
A story of lasting love
by
Jude Kyrie
At the end of a hard day’s work in our garden.
Now exhausted and resting in my chair.
Feeling the need to see your smile again
I quietly call your name.
There is no answer of course
you have been in heaven for so long.
The onset of confusion clouds my memory.
Just the jingles of the breeze on the wind chimes
answer my call.
By your chair an open book and your glasses
still remain as if you may return.
My need to see you is now overwhelming.
I seek to find you everywhere in the house.
Then I see you stood under
the large flowering rose arbor.
A basket of flowers cut from the beds
hangs from your arm.
The fading sunlight of evening now
a halo about your long hair.
My eyes mist at the vision.
So sweet so astoundingly beautiful.
So cool like the mist of summer rain
You smile at me.
The wind chimes ****** once again.
You tell me the sweet woodruff is taking over.
The hollyhocks need thinning.
And the wisteria has become overgrown.
You tell me all of these things.
But all I see is your sweet heart of purest gold.
The rose arbor framing the light of my life
Glowing as the sun
at the centre of my small universe.
I long to kneel before you
to pay homage to you.
to say to you I love you darling.
but you fade into the sparkling
remnants of the melting sunlight.
As the wind chimes lilt in the evening air
over the blossoming perfumes
of our gardens bounty.*
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
All this kush we smoke
With a Gatorade makeshift ****
Ja know that its no joke,
Ja know it won't be long!
I can hear the bowl piece roll
This **** is not airtight
For when I try to light my bowl
It jingles through the night, OH!
Jingle **** Jingle **** Jingle all the way!
It's no fun
To simply bun
With a loose fitting **** all day, HEY!
Jingle **** Jingle **** Jingle all the way!
The whole squad sings
Our bowl piece rings
And everyone feels ok!
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
At the end of a hard
day’s work in our garden
Now exhausted
and resting in my chair
I quietly call your name,
you have been gone for so long.
but in my older age
confusion fills my head
and I do not remember your loss.
Feeling the need to see your smile again
There is no answer of course
Just the jingles of the summer breeze
on the wind chimes by the window.
By your chair an open book
and your reading glasses.
I still have not removed them.
The need to see you
is now overwhelming
I seek everywhere to find you
almost in a panic.
then I see you.
Stood under the arched
flowering rose arbor.
A basket of flowers cut from the beds
hangs from your arm.
The fading sunlight of evening glows
A halo about your long hair.
My eyes mist.
So sweet so astoundingly beautiful,
So cool like the mist of summer rain.
You smile at me.
The wind chimes
jingle softly once again
You tell me
the sweet woodruff is taking over.
The hollyhocks need thinning.
And the wisteria has become overgrown.
You tell me all of these things.
But all I see is your sweet heart
of purest gold.
The flowering rose arbor
framing the light of my life.
Glowing as the sun
at the Centre of my small universe.
I long to kneel before you
to pay homage.
to tell you of my love for you.
but you fade into the ether
of my minds confusions.
A light evening breeze
kisses my cheek
As the wind chimes
softly lilt over the
blossoming perfumes
of our gardens bounty
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
I saw an Ulila
Whilst riding a Jeepney
Half-Shoed,
Half-Footed,
Saying, "BAYAD!"
An Endearment for Pay
Yet my Eyes affixed
On his One-Footed Shoe
But due to the Wear
Of a Day's Sweaty Trod
Begging for his Family Dinner
Hoping he could have a Full Meal
And Smiles
For him and his family
And still waiting
For his Final Stop
And still scraping
His Hard-Worn Scar
Thus the Ulila
Handsome to Beg
Despite his Birth-Marked Nose
Which was actually blood
From a flavourful fist-fight
And Soil,
Paints his Tender Body.
Thus the Ulila,
Swollen in his Eyes,
Suddenly remembered
He had nothing to Beg
For since his Time,
Was centred on Smiles
Greeting people,
Wishing them the
Best of Cheers and Holidays
And his Reward,
Sheltered and Soft,
Reaching the end of his Bay,
Cried, "PARA!"
An Endearment for Stop
And disembarked
Full of Flavours and Joy,
Wondering,
If he could Share such with his Family.
Then the Ulila,
Felt a Weight,
And Jingles in his Body.
Thinking of his Thursday's Stones,
He took some out
And all he found,
Were just some Worthless Pesos,
Given secretly,
By the Passengers he Entertained
In the busy Jeepney.
Thus Smiled the Ulila - The Selfless Urchin-Boy.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
We waste our lives
chasing some false ideology
of what it means to be beautiful
dressing ourselves up
in the latest paper doll clichés
of magazine quotes
of how to look like a “10”
hoping to see something
other than our own reflection
in the mirror
hoping that a layer
of white washed lies
and vibrant coats painted
over fabricated truths
will somehow make us feel...
how do they say it
on the West Side?
“I feel pretty and witty and...”
isn’t it somewhere around here
that the truth gets lost
where we allow the definition of beauty
to get painfully distorted
that we hand over our paychecks
and self-esteem
for the latest cure and concealer
to that ugly feeling
we get when we are left by ourselves
to face the doubts of our truths
and what is that truth?
how was beauty defined
before we had a vocabulary of deception
before we danced to radio jingles
and sang along with our self doubts
what did beauty look like
when it was out there
alone in the dark
what was it that was beautiful
before we opened our eyes...
what was beautiful then
is still the same
as what is beautiful now...
and it is nothing we can define
with our words
or our books
or the noises we make when we speak
it is nothing we can see
with our eyes
it is as simple
as it is easy
it is there inside all of us
beneath our clothes
and inside our skin
and protected by our bones
and our marrow
living and blooming
every time we exhale
and every time we inhale
the truth of what it means
to be beautiful
is in just
being
and this truth is sung
with every beat of our hearts
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
*Windchimes
A story of lasting love
by
Jude Kyrie
At the end of a hard day’s work in our garden.
Now exhausted and resting in my chair.
Feeling the need to see your smile again
I quietly call your name.
There is no answer of course
you have been in heaven for so long.
The onset of confusion clouds my memory.
Just the jingles of the breeze on the wind chimes
answer my call.
By your chair an open book and your glasses
still remain as if you may return.
My need to see you is now overwhelming.
I seek to find you everywhere in the house.
Then I see you stood under
the large flowering rose arbor.
A basket of flowers cut from the beds
hangs from your arm.
The fading sunlight of evening now
a halo about your long hair.
My eyes mist at the vision.
So sweet so astoundingly beautiful.
So cool like the mist of summer rain
You smile at me.
The wind chimes ****** once again.
You tell me the sweet woodruff is taking over.
The hollyhocks need thinning.
And the wisteria has become overgrown.
You tell me all of these things.
But all I see is your sweet heart of purest gold.
The rose arbor framing the light of my life
Glowing as the sun
at the centre of my small universe.
I long to kneel before you
to pay homage to you.
to say to you I love you darling.
but you fade into the sparkling
remnants of the melting sunlight.
As the wind chimes lilt in the evening air
over the blossoming perfumes
of our gardens bounty*
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
"Is my team ploughing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?"
Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plough.
"Is football playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?"
Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.
"Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?"
Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep,
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.
3.5k
Dozing on a hammock
Strung between two towering palms
With the sky above-
color washed in turquoise blue
and the waters below
reflecting that heavenly hue,
you came to me
sailing in a dream
like the strains of a symphony
causing endless vibrations
in my solitary heart
you showed up
all too sudden
like a rainbow on my vacant sky
after a cloud burst of cloistered grief
to blaze it with iridescent shades
Your smile
embalmed my bruised spirit
with the coolness of a summer drizzle
falling, like manna
over starved Israelites
in their arduous odyssey
through blistering sands
Your passionate breath,
spewed on my face
bore the scent of opening buds
in the mazy tangle of wild creepers
growing dense in nearby woods.
Your amorous whispers
fell in my ears
with the sweetness of the melody
from Krishna’s flute
with Radha near ,love sick
her lips curled in an immaculate smile.
Your soft footsteps
like the jingle of a court dancer
echoed in the silence of my soul
with a hundred evocations
As the jingles
came nearer in synchronizing rhythm
I held out my arms
to clasp you in tight embrace
and reel you in frenzied jig
But you vanished,
vanished,
with the swiftness
of bubbles rising and breaking
in a beer glass,
leaving me to my desolate zone
The sky overhead had changed
into another shade
Still I lay in mid air,
with my eyes sealed tight
to re-live that dream
once again!
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC
I am not depressed
I’m just deflated
Out of style and over-dressed
At second-best, I’m overrated
An old birthday balloon
(Out of breath, somewhat bated)
I hum my jingles out of tune
One-hit-wonders soon outdated
Like a song without sound
Mourning a muted meltdown
I’m at the point of no concern
For my inability to yearn
I am -
Whatever comes after
The past, the future
The cries, and the laughter
I remain –
Whatever came before
The purple rain, the midnight train
The ****** and the *****
I am a pixelated painting
Understood by few
Inexplicably containing
Little drops of you
You’re my middle C
A sepia photograph
Of my mundane eulogy
And my previous epitaph
You are my bitter half
The gall in my bladder
My nervous laugh
My endless chatter
You’re my history rewritten
My once shy, twice-bitten
My state-of-the-art
You’re the bottom of my heart
The top of my lungs
You’re my talking in tongues
The motivational quote
In my suicide note
And although I’ll never be free
From this heart on my sleeve
I’ll always wish you to be
The Adam to my Eve.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 2:18 AM UTC
i keep your
Love
in my back pack
it rattles around
slaps against
my math and communication textbooks
i take it out
; ; ; when i see happy
couples on campus
and i spread it on my palms
like {lotion~~~
it leaves my hands
glittery
and very soft.
I keep your
LOvE
in my pocket.
it jingles and jangles
against my keys and my hairbinders and an old bracelet that broke [[[i'll put it back together eventually.}
I like to
I like to stick
I like to stick my fingertips
in there.
and swirl your love
between my thumb and
,forefinger,
some
sometimes i pull it out
and i
smear it on my
eyelids
so everyone will know why my eyes shine
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 10:59 AM UTC
Merry revellers
cast one glance on me
before your mind wavers
throw me one penny
My eyes are deep in socket
but ears are sharply keen
catch jingles in your pocket
silver's pompous din
Pray not be too aloof
need a lil of your pity
a penny can't buy a roof
can buy a crumb for belly
It wouldn't hurt you much
for one less from too many
merry revellers before you rush
toss my way one penny.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC
I’d like to climb the clouds
Leave footprints in the sky
so I know I’ve been there
and it’ll have something to remember me by
I want to see all the longitude lines
that are nothing more than constructs of our minds
Have you ever turned the map upside down?
Maybe the US is only hanging on to South America
by a hook called Mexico.
You don’t get what you see
because Mercator
wasn’t quite right with his projections.
Boy, was he ambitious though.
He took something
not even a quarter the size of the Sahara
and dreamed it big enough
to kiss all the corners of Africa.
I want that kind of determination.
I want to stop filling my imagination
and start filling my eyes
with realities of cities and seas,
valleys and villages.
I don’t have to move mountains,
I’ll go to them.
The continents are playing coy
and just because I’ve seen them more than once
doesn’t mean I know them yet
I want to learn their favorite colors.
I want to go far enough away
that I’m not afraid to never come back.
You know wherever I am,
when I close my eyes,
all I see is the horizon.
I’ll draw my own map across my body.
Haleiwa, Hawaii on my chest.
The hottest day in summer, her
shave ice melts into my heart to keep me cool.
Paris is on the inside of my knee,
so I can protect her, keep her on her pedestal,
like you always do with your first love.
Tanzania circles my throat like a Maasai necklace,
it glints in the sun and jingles when I dance.
Dublin’s like a freckle under my chin,
it took me a while to find her,
but now I know there are things worth looking for
And I’ve got plenty of space left on my skin.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
The lighting of streets' corners -
Even those corners that hitherto were dark and unwelcoming.
As the sunset bleeds
on the city's disappearing silhouette.
The shimmering traffic;
The blares of multiple cars as they try to rush home.
As windows smile brightly to passersby.
The return of Santa Claus!
The holiday seasons,
Winter to the snow laden,
Harmattan to the arid lands.
Chilly on all sides.
The warmth of the fireplace,
The joy of the days to come.
The jingles of merry bells.
The bright lights of Christmas trees.
A reminder that all of humanity can still be happy.
That there is still hope.
That we can share in each other's joy.
And always be there for each other.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
I heard a song
From within the rain
As it splashed against
My window-pane
Like a mystical bell
Casting a spell
I looked outside
While raindrops fell
Ripples of jingles
Guttering in song
As children in play
Went skipping along
Their faces a picture
In the beauty of nature
Laughing and jumping
In puddles together
Crystaline beads
Hugging the trees
As it slowly danced
To the musical breeze
Pavements of silver
Reflections of truth
Feeling the love
As the sun shone through
The skies ablaze
As the music fades
Where a touch of love
Now smiles above
In the beauty, born
From the rain.
© Jon.London 2010
Copyscape Protected
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
we gather around the couch
with our fuzzy pajamas and fluffy socks.
singing jingles and carols while we watch the snowflakes drift off in the wind.
staring at the blinking lights on a pine tree graced by a shining star on its tippy top top.
Waiting for the little jolly fat guy..........
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
A smooth jazz blast from the musical past:
The confused ethnomusicology,
The pleasantly discordant riffs and
Jingles of "Hiroshima"—
The band not the bomb site—
Whose fusion sound
Evokes an insane sextet
Granting membership, inexplicably to
Schroeder-- the Peanuts loony tune—
Hitting only the black keys of his piano,
His miniature keyboard
Sour, melodious & pure.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:36 AM UTC
When the conditions go wrong
when there are no jingles of a song
when the world loses its melody
when there is nothing but the tragedy
Together we shall stand
When the flowers lose their fragrance
when the peacock forgets the merry dance
when the sunlight is clogged by the cloud
when the shrieks of pain and terror are loud
Together we shall stand
Together we shall stand
and find the desired path
which leads us to the serene land
leaving behind the abhorrence and the wrath
Together we shall stand
till you trust me
and I trust you.
we’ll create a world of new
Just put your hand on my hand
together we shall stand
Together we shall stand
Till the eternal days ahead………
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
It is a proven fact that cats love yarn,
But cats also love anything they can run after,
Especially if it jingles.
Cats love yarn
But it is not enough to make them stay
At the foot of my bed
While I wait in the dark
For the monsters under my bed
To get me.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
Hi everybody I am Briano alliano
And today I have a few poems and jingles for you
Here they are
I love to party up here on Saturn
Enjoying life, mate pretty ****** cool
I drink methane smoothies
And I really really enjoy it yeah
And I have a few fly burgers to share
They are good enough to eat
Eat eat eat
They are such a tasty treat
Treat treat treat
Covid can be annoying
I wish it would go away
Just imagine no afl grand final
In Melbourne that will be a shame
But we must be fucken careful
Oh yeah mate oh yeah
John Howard is in hospital
How long will he be there for
Well some say it is payback
For all the problems he caused the poor
Hey hey baby oh yeah
We must party on oh yeah
Get down to the ground yeah
Everyone party oh yeah mate
We must party oh yeah
And never stop
Our next song is c’mon Aussie c’mon Aussie c’mon
The virus is causing problems for the afl
And keeping out of Victoria will be a shame
Politicians arguing with each other
Like they normally do yeah
Even Barnaby Joyce has to say his piece
Yes an Aussie killed his victims in Christchurch but there is a lot of hurt
Well, he is the biggest **** you ever see
Yes c’mon Aussie c’mon oh yeah
C’mon Aussie c’mon
We must stay in Australia but what happens if you don’t
You end up getting hemeroids up the ***
And then footballers breaking covid 19 laws they just want to go somewhere to drink their beer
That is Australia for ya
Yes go home and your mama
Yes that is so cool yeseree
C’mon Aussie c’mon
Party on Aussie party
Just c’mon Aussie
C’mon oh yeah let’s crack open a beer
And PARTY
The next song is rock and roll devil
I am the devil incarnate
And his advocate
I tell the devil what to do
I stick up for him every day
I know a lot of people don’t believe in him
And a lot of people think he is evil yeah
But when you say you are the devil
You must think
About what your saying
Think about what you are doing
You must party all night
Some people call that the devils work
But that is a load of crap
Like a tree exploding sap
And the devil is told he doesn’t exist
So he brought out his bible
But that was burnt about 1500 years ago
And that is a sign he doesn’t exist
And that makes me the devils advocate to the Christians eyes
Thank you everyone
PARTY ON DUDES
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 9:59 PM UTC
Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.
He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.
Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.
Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.
The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.
Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.
It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.
So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.
Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\12\2020.
(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)
(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
Sown as corn at little cost
And doomed to bloom amid the frost
Struggling through frozen earth
Weak and withered after birth
Swaddled up in soothing lies
With jingles as our lullabies
Numbered at our fledgling breath
Weighed, tagged and worked to death
Grown into a paper mould
With ball and chain of solid gold
Impotent to break or twist
The wireless shackle about the wrist
Conform, obey, do not resist
A silken blindfold binding eyes
To hide corruption on the rise
While noblemen with scented whips
Peddle lies from fattened lips
Voices raised in honest fear
Are drowned before they reach an ear
Just watch the screen, rapt, unblinking
Television does your thinking
Accept the credit, pay the debt
Take the chance and make the bet
Tow the line and wear the tie
Heckle the honest, praise the spy
Apathy has your gullet gripped
And leather fingers, sugar dipped
Have slipped on over zealous triggers
Suppressing freedom, defending figures
Chemical fed and bred to serve
Dry of tongue and numb of nerve
Right and wrong have merged together
And apathy, our chosen tether
The beast is neutered, caged and tame
The sinews of defiance, lame
Wash down pills with poison water
Disregard the silent slaughter
Slumbering as lions of old
While politicians growing bold
On plundered gains and stolen lives
Until their reckoning arrives
For once again the lions stir
And shackles fall from ancient fur
Beware the people, stay the whip
The masque of apathy must slip
Rise up, lions, sleep has passed
With every lie and bullet cast
A revolution overdue
We are still many, they are few
**
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
the bell jingles as she steps into the holiday stationstore
on the corner of two discarded streets, signs too battered to read
there was free hot chocolate on tuesdays
it was always a little too sweet
the cream-colored tile is stained by thousands of half-cleaned messes
the faint squeak of the roller grill complimenting
cheesy pop music
bright packages scream brand names she never buys
she picks a cup, the smallest size
and fills it
ignoring the drips of pumpkin spice on the counter,
left by a hurried predecessor
she adds cream
she doesn't think about the calories
she doesn't think about what her friends are up to
she doesn't think about how much she hates hearing this **** song
she thinks about grabbing a snickers for the road
shredded black combat boots thump to the register
she sets her snickers bar on the counter
paying the cashier (jeremy) with a crumpled dollar bill
his gray eyes brim with something like pity, like they do every week
she pretends not to see
he says something
she pretends not to hear
he says something else
she walks out
icy rain makes her pull her hood tighter
she sips the cocoa
it always was a little too sweet
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC