Sounding

There were bells, and shaven-headed monks in saffron.
Prayer flags whipped in the wind.
There were stepping stones and a cat as silent as a yogi.

There were bells and waist-high goldenrod.
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 were bells. 
There are bells still, 
sounding from every form and object, and in every tone. 
______

for Susie's "Bits of Inspiration" at Toads.



 

Comments

Cloudia said…
No I never heard them at all till there was you
Ron. said…
Bellicious. (I also heard The Beatles!)
Ellecee said…
Love it, melodies everywhere, beautiful scenes, lovely 😊
Susie Clevenger said…
Oh this poem is beautiful, joyful, inspiring. "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." God, I love those lines, a poem I wish I'd written. Thank you for writing for the prompt!
brudberg said…
What a wonderful poem... so filled with joy (and nostalgia perhaps)
Herotomost said…
Bells to the yeah!!! You used every square inch of the prompt..super cool, always amazing.
What a paean! Glorious.
tonispencer said…
I like thus poem muchly. There were tiny drops and your hand sure and solid holding mine....this is so solid and true
Kerry O'Connor said…
I like the cat silent as a yogi..
Kim M. Russell said…
Definitely 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!
hedgewitch said…
Your 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.
Like a beautiful piece of music.

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