Bells

[Jerrybaldy]

The bell hasn’t rung yet,
I run barefoot through the field
stubby toes flicking dew to the air
glistening like stardust in its fall.
Gappy tooth smile
hands held high
running to the sun.
Still no bell,
I race past Daisy making her chains,
Johnny a cowboy,
Crusty Clive the Indian.
In the corridors the hammer lifts
to call me in.

The bell hasn’t gone yet,
bourbon on my breath,
ashes by the clock,
butts on a saucer.
Memories begging to be forgotten,
I want that second hand to stop.

Bells are ringing black,
the smoke of once being
rising from a chimney stack.
Busy people take an hour
to thank their lord
it isn’t them yet.

Running through the field,
the bell was never there
no threat it may ring
no race, no daisy chain.

[Delta40]

Mmmm. Interesting. I like how you go from the micro to the macro and this prevalent sense of urgency exists throughout.

[Hawkman]

Actually jerry I really love this poem; rang should be rung in line 1 though.

I might suggest trimming out S4 and the final two lines. They're sort of extraneous and a bit pretentious, which detracts from the raw power and immediacy of the main body of your text. Apart from this, a damn good poem though.

Best - H

[Jerrybaldy]

Thanks Delta and Hawk.
You were quite right Hawk, I have ditched S4 and the last two lines.
cheers

[Bar22do]

This is one of the best poems I've read on these pages in long.

[Haunted]

It's a compelling read, the transition from the beginning to end is very well crafted.

[hillwalker]

One of the best of this month's crop, JB. I missed the pre-edited version but found it a bleak yet rewarding read.

H

[firefangled]

The progression in this is very well constructed. It tugs at the readers emotions without being emotional. The realization at the end is well done.