Prayer flags whipped in the wind.
There were stepping stones and a cat as silent as a yogi.
A gust caught your open shirt like a sail.
There were tiny drops and your hand sure and solid holding mine.
There were bells and a nine-paned window;
my desk permanent as a tattoo.
I wrote this poem to the sound of bells, from my fingers, the walls, the sky.
There are bells still,
sounding from every form and object, and in every tone.
______
for Susie's "Bits of Inspiration" at Toads.
No I never heard them at all till there was you
ReplyDeleteBellicious. (I also heard The Beatles!)
ReplyDeleteLove it, melodies everywhere, beautiful scenes, lovely 😊
ReplyDeleteOh this poem is beautiful, joyful, inspiring. "There were bells and a nine-paned window;
ReplyDeletemy desk permanent as a tattoo. I wrote this poem to the sound of bells, from my fingers, the walls, the sky." God, I love those lines, a poem I wish I'd written. Thank you for writing for the prompt!
How lovely!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful poem... so filled with joy (and nostalgia perhaps)
ReplyDeleteBells to the yeah!!! You used every square inch of the prompt..super cool, always amazing.
ReplyDeleteWhat a paean! Glorious.
ReplyDeleteI like thus poem muchly. There were tiny drops and your hand sure and solid holding mine....this is so solid and true
ReplyDeleteI like the cat silent as a yogi..
ReplyDeleteDefinitely an echo of The Beatles, Shay. I love the form of the poem, the cat as silent as a yogi and the gust catching the open shirt like a sail – perfect details throughout!
ReplyDeleteYour phrases hold jewels of metaphor, and your gift lifts the ringing from ordinary noise to evocative music. My ears are full of the ringing of memory's bells. Love the Lightfoot, too.
ReplyDeleteLike a beautiful piece of music.
ReplyDelete