I hear and Reflect
A bell tolls sonorously
one single chime. Then silence reigns
It wakes me from my reverie.
Conscious again of aches and pains.
I had lost temporarily
in contemplation of the past
That single knell reminding me
Of the long years which quickly passed.
Before the years caught up with me
For old age does not come alone
It brings along infirmity.
Which hitherto you have not known.
When you are young you do not know
What future lies ahead of you
but as you live and learn and grow
You will become as others do.
Much more aware than what you were
of how your body will re- act.
To the stress and strain you bear.
That you must think before you act.
Gone is the energy of youth
You used to waste without a thought
You slowly come to learn the truth
That rude health can’t be sold or bought.
As long as I can hear that chime
which has disturbed my reverie
I can be certain that this time
The death knell does not ring for me.
Each day an opportunity
To do things I can still do
although slow and steadily.
My body still allows me to.
Although I pay in aches and pains
I do not think the price too high.
My interest in life remains.
I am too busy far, to die.
I know I will eventually
but do not let it worry me
It is the only certainty
the bell will toll one day for me.
23-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Sick fancies of a tired mind
A bell rings out, a deep toned bell.
A single chime; that’s ominous.
What does that single chime foretell?
So resonant and sonorous
It marks the passing of the hour.
Perhaps the passing of a soul
It issues from the ivied tower
and echoes imitate its toll.
I long to know but I must wait
while night hours crawl slowly past
deliberately to agitate.
It seems to me the night hours last
much longer than they ought to do.
When aches and pains keep me awake
Although I know it isn’t true.
It seems to be for pity’s sake.
My morbid fancies lead me to
conclusions that I should not draw
As morbid fancies tend to do
more often than they did before.
There’s nothing left in life for me
I’ve run my race I’m satisfied
That friendly death will set me free.
I‘ve been alone since my wife died.
I know I won’t hear my death knell
I find the thought amuses me
but there is no one I can tell
about this thought that tickles me.
When my call comes I will rejoice
I’ve long been waiting patiently
but we are given little choice
I will greet my death eagerly.
I’m weary and I long to go
but know I have to wait my turn.
Although I wish it wasn’t so
I must wait patiently and yearn.
16-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep
O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Alone, alone in prison strong
I wail my destiny:
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Must taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torment so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knoll,
For thou my death dost tell:
Lord, pity thou my soul!
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound dolefully:
For now I die,
I die, I die.
O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep
O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Alone, alone in prison strong
I wail my destiny:
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Must taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torment so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knoll,
For thou my death dost tell:
Lord, pity thou my soul!
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound dolefully:
For now I die,
I die, I die.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O death, rock me on sleep
O death! rock me on sleep,
Bring me on quiet rest;
Yet pass my guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast:
Toll on the passing bell,
Ring out the doleful knell,
Let the sound of my death tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy,
For now I die.
My pains who can express?
Alas! they are so strong,
My dolor will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Alone, in prison strong,
I wail my destiny,
Wo worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Farewell my pleasures past,
Welcome my present pain;
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now the passing bell,
Rung is my doleful knell,
For the sound my death doth tell,
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound my end dolefully,
For now I die.
poem by Anne Boleyn (1536)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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One step at a time.
I see no reason to be coy.
I was a baby long ago
and after that a little boy.
When all I had to do was grow.
I quickly grew to be a youth.
Certain that I knew everything.
But passing years taught me the truth.
I could be sure of just one thing.
The more I learnt the less I knew.
There was so much I did not know
and I had other tasks to do.
Things to see places to go.
We may not know what lies ahead,
such knowledge is forbidden us.
So we are forced to guess instead.
Perpetually curious.
I realised as I grew old.
That I must die eventually.
Leave my old body stiff and cold
And then at last I would be free.
Just how I knew I cannot say
but I believe it to be true
I grow more certain every day.
Although I KNOW no more than you.
I find it very comforting
to think that when this body dies.
At last I will know everything
with nothing hidden from my eyes.
Until I am reborn again.
Bereft of all my memories.
Knowing no more than other men
I learn again by slow degrees.
Bodies may die but I go on.
Blessed with immortality
Forgetting past lives which are gone
until I am what I should be.
A small part of the oversoul
Returned at last from whence I came.
A process I cannot control
but I must go through just the same.
When all are safely gathered in
and thus complete the oversoul
A new creation can begin.
Perfection is the final goal
.Tuesday,05 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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How I Wish The Bell Tolls For Me
for whom the bell tolls?
i ask that
it must toll for me,
but the bell never really
toll for me,
always, it tolls for someone else,
a friend for 15 years
a relative close to the family,
a baby newly born in town,
a man conscious of his health,
the non-smoker and non-drinker alike,
the successful politician,
the wife of an expatriate,
the rich gambler, oh, the bell tolls for all of them
and there were banquets and city lights
and eulogies
and expensive garments of the priest
i wish the bell tolls for me,
but who am i to really say?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Borrowed Time
His life is drawing to its close.
He has lived past three score and ten
and has no reason to suppose
That he should know the how and when.
He is not ready yet to go
his life is full of interest
Although his pace of life is slow
he has retained his youthful zest.
Now often plagued by aches and pains,
accepts them philosophically.
Its very seldom he complains,
he knows there is no remedy
for his ailments. He is quite sure
death will provide a lasting cure.
8-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Just in case
The death knell sounds sonorously.
The mourners dressed decorously
have come to say their last farewell.
Invited by the tolling bell.
Some come to pay their last respects.
Nobody mentions his defects.
An unspoken conspiracy.
A custom universally.
observed by all the human race.
A funeral is not the place
to criticise the newly dead.
Perhaps because we live in dread.
That vengeful ghosts will take offence.
We choose to lie in self defence.
19/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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When the playtime (recess) bell rings
When the playtime bell rings, it's time to cease fun,
when the playtime bell rings, it's time to grow up,
when the playtime bell rings, it's time to get serious.
When the factory whistle blows it's time to roll sleeves up,
when the factory whistle blows, it's time to pay bills
when the factory whistle blows, it's time to forego rebellious thought
When the church bells chime, it's time for commitment,
when the church bells chime, it's time to make plans
when the church bells chime, it's time to make compromise
When the death knoll tolls, it's time for regrets
when the death knoll tolls, it's time for rethinking
when the death knoll tolls, it's time for peace
poem by Jason Jackson
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I'm still a man for M 'lady Milica
I’m still a man though I grow old
I am no longer brave and bold.
I think before I chose to act.
I have to face up to the fact.
I have to do as I am told.
I’m still a man
The aches and pains that trouble me
all tend to sap my energy.
I cannot do what I used to
That’s matterless for in my view
I’m still a man,
Short Rondel format
15/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One Who Has Sacrificed With A Kept Pace
Something done persistently,
Eventually wears on the body and mind...
Of the one who has given time to find,
Without a resting to qualify this to be done...
Like some who give their recommendations,
Misunderstanding the drive it has taken...
To make sure things are set in place.
They would never understand,
One who has sacrificed with a kept pace.
Well...I do.
And it is not from that which I am doing today.
It is a much needed rest,
From that which has taken years in the making
To create.
Never before considered the connection between,
Aches and pains and the lack of rest.
Until my mind and body began to beg for some.
And getting as much as I can get to just rest,
To prioritize for myself is best.
And aging has made me more aware of this!
Without proper rest,
The body and mind begins to insist it be done.
And quick with a paying of attention.
Oh...
You don't need to shout so loud.
I hear you very clearly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Old Man Medicates His Pains Away
AN OLD MAN MEDICATES HIS PAINS AWAY
An old man medicates his pains away
He wants to live in his mind
As if his body can be temporarily forgotten-
He tries to be as he once was
Easy in the skin of himself -
But the pains the pains the pains
They come from different directions
They interrupt they remind they dismay
The pains the pains
They may go away for a time
But they don’t forget to sharpen again-
An old man does not want to think of his body as his enemy
He is no pure mind and does not dream to be
But the pains
When so many come at once
And when no medication can really put a stop to them-
They will defeat him -
Drugged into restless sleep
He will not be able to die without them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Life is for living forfriend Thad.
I’m musing on mortality.
Which seems entirely apposite.
I think at my age I should be.
I can see clearly with hindsight.
As I recall the distant past.
Three quarters of a century.
The long years all too quickly passed.
Experience that made me, me.
I know that one day I will die.
I cannot know when that will be.
So until then I can but try
to use my time productively.
I read and write, I paint and draw
and I maintain my interest
in everything I’ve done before
and tackle new projects with zest.
Although I was born long ago
I don’t admit to being old.
Because I’m wise enough to know.
I should not put my life on hold.
Take to my armchair, watch TV
As others may expect me too.
Sit back and just wait patiently
for death. Something I will not do.
Until the day I die I’ll try
to live as I have always done.
I will think optimistically
and find each day some time for fun.
Saturday,03 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Farewell Bell
The peals of the funeral bell echo to the calm sky
For someone today 'tis a final goodbye
And on some future date whenever that be
A similar bell will be ringing for me.
Free of the cares of life and of worry and fear
The farewell bell for him or for her the deceased one doesn't hear
By it's slow drawn out tolls it's not hard for to tell
That for someone the ringer rings the farewell bell.
The same fate for you and for me and for all
To the scythe of the Reaper we eventually must fall
Yet on a sunlit wattle the magpie does sing
And he care not if for one the farewell bell ring.
A beautiful morning the magpie in song
With the farewell bell he is singing along
And white butterflies dancing a beautiful sight
Around the blossoming trees in the warm sunlight
poem by Francis Duggan
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Misperception?
Misperception.
The silence of the night; profound.
Is broken by a dismal sound.
The tolling of a single bell.
The sad, sad sound of the death knell.
Another soul has broken free
From this sad world of misery.
Now journeying towards the light
Rejoicing in the power of flight.
But we who have been left behind
to seek what solace we can find.
Weep bitter tears which may relieve
The pain of loss but I believe.
We should not weep but celebrate.
The dear departed’s change of state.
Thursday,22 December 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Escape Mechanism
I was in pain, in agony
and saw no way to gain relief.
Then all at once I seemed to be
beside myself quite literally.
Some how I had escaped my pain
just left my agony behind
so I was comfortable again.
I thought at first I was insane.
And yet I knew I was still me
but by some magic of my mind.
I had escaped I’d struggled free.
Although it felt quite strange to see.
My body sitting in my chair.
To see myself from the outside.
As though I was both here and there.
I found it rather hard to bear.
I wondered then if I had died
and that was how I came to be
Observing myself from outside
I understood I must decide
I had a choice to be pain free
and leave the life I knew behind.
I chose somewhat reluctantly
and I returned immediately.
Back to the inside looking out
I don’t pretend to understand
what happened but I have no doubt.
Although I rarely talk about.
The day I found that I could be
in two places at one time.
Experience simultaneously
to be pain wracked and be pain free.
I sometimes voluntarliy
decide to take a holiday
from aches and pains which distress me.
Be pain free temporarily.
All men must die and so will I,
I do not let it worry me.
But until then I can but try
to bear my suffering patiently.
When it gets to much to bear
I close my eyes and I escape
to somewhere else I‘m not sure where
nor do I think I really care.
1-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Knell Of Our Love
The things we all wished for,
The storm came and take away,
Was it the work of nature,
Or maybe the schemes of your hands,
Such insinuations thwarted everything,
Im a man gathering confidence,
Let the elders ring the knell
The war I thought I could fight,
Yet the pain I couldnt sustain,
To be so adamant in all undertakings,
Blinded by my own surreal thoughts,
I have gathered my boldness,
Let the elders ring the knell of our love
I couldnt bring the stars for you,
But I could talk the stars for you,
To always see none like you,
But to receive you gave a few,
I waited in the long queue,
I have accepted its passed and through,
Hear the sound of copper bells,
The elders ringing death knells
Death is an enemy to us,
Yet life was painful to me,
Such our love unto life life,
Better the death of a warrior,
Than the life of a slave,
Elders I seek thee,
Sound the death knell I beg
The fall of my heart before your feet,
The memories so shall you recall,
The days of the long poems,
The months of the good love,
The night of the Judas kiss,
I forgive you for the faake promises,
You were bound to deceive me,
Yet I was bound to love you,
Now the books should be closed,
The hammer should hit the ground,
Elders silence the failing love,
Let the knells ring aloud
The birds should fly and fly,
When we will cry and cry,
This love will die and die,
The transition shall be evident,
I cant walk a mile,
While you stand and smile,
I choose the knell,
Hear my call you elders
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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I Can Hear The Funeral Bell
I can hear the funeral bell tolling in the church across the way
Calling in the family and friends of the deceased one for to pray
For the soul of the departed though what happens to the soul
When life's last breath we have taken would seem beyond our control,
Tolling slow and tolling loudly carrying in the freshening breeze
Out there in the sunlit Parkland birds are whistling on the trees
Life on Earth goes on as usual though to life people come and go
Though of a life after death it would seem none can say that they truly know,
Listening to the bell toll slowly makes me once again recall
My own very fragile mortality there's a last day for us all,
Life is brief the years go quickly time does not wait for you or I
And they say the longer we live the sooner we are going to die
And though the funeral bell is tolling in the house of prayer nearby
Swallows chirp above the Parkland in the bright and sunny sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Bullfrog Bell
Now the truce of night brings respite to the sordid care of day,
And in listlessness I pace the river side,
Where the solitude is wounded by no lighted window's ray;
But illicit fancy will not be denied
For the darkening flat reiterates a freer life's farewell,
In the long familiar knocking of a bullfrog bell.
And in reverie I see the loaded waggons slowly creep,
Far across the western plains of New South Wales;
With 'talking' wheels and platforms, with wool-ropes biting deep,
And the dust of two broad countries on the vales.
Till the stars take shape in patterns, and through their dreamy spell
Comes the low, incessant knocking of the bullfrog bell.
And the retrospection lingers, bringing spiritless regret,
Though the northward track is open to me still
I may count the morning muster — I may track the stragglers yet
I may spell or battle onward, as I will
I may wake at night to listen, and know that all is well
By the reassuring answer of the bullfrog bell.
But that virile life repeated would be wearisome and trite,
Since the glamour of adventure cannot last
When the future, with its freshness, its pulsing, roseate light,
Has congealed into a leaden-coloured Past.
So an unreturning era owns its sympathetic knell
In the melancholy knocking of that bull-frog bell.
poem by Joseph Furphy
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Too Many Aches And Ailments At Once
TOO MANY ACHES AND AILMENTS AT ONCE
Too many aches and ailments at once
A remedy for one causes new problems with another-
Tiredness is all-
Death is not feared-
Is it cowardly to want a way out?
One wills oneself to be courageous-
This thing is tried
And then another tried
One pain down another irritation up -
I cough and I ache and I long to rest
A poem cannot end the pains
Writing is only a minor distraction-
It is not good to be sick
And less good when one is old
Will I ever be alright again?
I have gotten out of this before
I will this time get out of it again-
But in the years to come?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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