The Choir, The Bells The Church
he changed
not attracted anymore to the
angelic sounds of the
choir the tolling bells
or its chimes
the church
that used to be his
second home
has now become
a place where
he merely
passes by
unfazed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chimes Of Freedom
Far between sundowns finish an midnights broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An for each an evry underdog soldier in the night
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
In the citys melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin constantly at stake
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an cheated by pursuit
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Even though a clouds white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Starry-eyed an laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an we watched with one last look
Spellbound an swallowed til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an worse
An for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Bells
Church Bells
Once I lived in a charming English village, near
an ancient church, every Sunday morning
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi-
circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool,
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Wind Chimes
Hangin' down from my window
Those are my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
In the late afternoon you're
Hung up on wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Though it's hard i try
Not to look at my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Now and then a tear rolls on my cheek
On a warm breeze the little bells
Tinklin' wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Close your eyes and lean back
Listen to wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
It's so peaceful
Close to a lullabye
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Da do do da do do da do do da do do
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music To My Ears
The merry music of a colourful carousel.
The joyous ringing out of church wedding bells.
A bird singing its heart out, high up in a tree.
The waves crashing down upon the salty sea.
The skin of a snare drum, being played with brushes.
A waterfall - the dramatic way that the water rushes.
The audience's excited chatter prior to a show.
The melodious sound of the bassoon or the oboe.
The call of geese - their loud, trumpeting sound.
A music box, as its pretty ballerina dances around.
I adore some accents: some are really top-notch:
I love listening to the Geordies and to the Scotch.
The jangling bells and cracking sticks of Morris Men.
The loud, hourly chiming of London's iconic Big Ben.
The tinkling of wind-chimes, blowing this way and that.
The rhythmic and resonant purring of a contented cat.
These are among the sounds which I love to hear:
Towards these sounds, my feet are often steered.
These sounds always put a smile upon my face:
Towards these sounds, my two feet will often race.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Separate World
guess not
but i live in a different world
not yours
it is dimmer
but it is mine
it is not as joyful
as the bells
of the church
or as naive as the
wind chimes
by the window
but it is mine
i live here
contentedly
watching everyone
that passes
my way
at night when i sleep
i am confident
with the pillow
conscience rests
peacefully as
the moon
above the trees
as fresh as the
wind to the
leaves
as scented as the
flowers
beside the paths
of righteousness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I've Changed (Interlude) (feat. Lil' Mo)
Yes I've changed again, baby
Changed.. changed..
Changed, the games, that I, used to play
Play.. leavin when I stay
Woo! Ohhh, ooooh, baby
I've changed - I said that I've changed
I said I've changed - the games, ain't the same
They ain't the same
I've changed - the pressure wasn't greatener
on the, other, siiiiide-ide-ide-ide
[Missy (Mo)]
Aight aight aight Mo chill (cause I know I've changed)
Yo Mo (I know I've changed, baby I swear I'm changed)
Yo Mo chill (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yo chill, you singin like you
You singin like you in church raisin money (I've changed)
for some choir rows or somethin (I've changed, I've changed)
You changed? I'm bout to change to a new track (ohhh-
song performed by by Missy Elliott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4: 59 In The Early Morning
the church bells nearby
toll
for whom, for you,
some prayers
broadcast on the microphone
in this place of
little christianities,
you wash your face
put on your clothes
church this morning
i forget, we used to
have church every
morning when we
were newly married,
changes, time,
ebb, high tides,
moons and more moons,
moorings and more moorings
mornings and lots of boring mornings,
i have changed and you have changed too.
i walk, i walk away, and you will pray,
i will pray too but in other silent places
far away from us, from you, from everything
familiar
too boring, but not sad yet, we are anticipating sadness
like noontime
lunch with so much chili and pepper,
and cold rice, the one we had
for breakfast,
these kinds, you know, are not my favorites....
yet without any word, you will serve them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forgotten Church
Here stands the church
suddenly illuminated but usually ignored.
It's tucked away in the corner of the market place.
I see the spire, imagine the pews
look up at its stained glass windows
and hear the choir boys.
I relish the sound of church bells,
they calm me and the emptiness
of the market place on Sundays.
The trader's stands are packed away,
leaving bits of litter floating along
in the sunshine.
Here are the cobbles
where heels break from shoes
and women wobble.
No brightly coloured thongs hang
from rails now
or fancy petticoats.
No wafting scent of cooked chicken
or men's voices shouting
'ripe bananas'.
Here, in the heart of Romford,
the little church has always been
with its warm heart beating,
softly,
forgotten,
as people pass it by.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least --
I'm going, all along.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Bells of Barangay San Jose
The Bells of Barangay San Jose
The bells of Barangay San Jose
Rang against the din of the windblown rain
Struck from bell towers from four directions
The wet July weather deadened the tolling
Unable to reverberate in the thick as soup fog
Eager acolytes swinging on strong bell ropes
Coaxing the brass cones to clang out loud
The bells furiously called out the faithful at dawn
Loud summons to attend the eucharistic celebration
Nuns in white with colorful umbrellas stepped lively,
Matrons with missals tucked in braided belts
Waddled through the half opened seminary doors
Rosary beads dangling, in quickened half steps
Hurrying before the wet fog turns to cold rain
A blessed Sunday morning in Barangay San Jose
My love and I eavesdropped on the early birdsong
Of hummingbirds atwitter on newly wakened yellow bells
And red mayas chattering on undulating cogon blades
The mellifluous sounds blending with the suffused peal
Of brass bells hardly heard above the foggy veil
An orderly chaos of diverse sounds melding in symphony
We paused at our wooden gate to listen to the concert
Disregarding the urgency of the muted ringing of bells
A grand performance fit for kings was being played out
At my very gate, heavenly sounds filling a misty morn
All of a sudden a wave of baritone voices broke in song
A robust Gregorian chant rode the fog within hearing
The mass had started and to church we had to rush
A Special Place
Oh my love, if I could make a special place
just for you and me,
I'd make it one that was beautiful
and wonderful to see.
One with golden sun, no dark clouds
One with golden silence, no noisy crowds
One with silver linings, no sad times
One with silver bells, no mournful chimes
One with cheerful laughter, no fretful frowns
One with peaceful serenity, no fearful sounds.
All of these things we would share
for all eternity
in this special place I'd create
just for you and me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Bells
I
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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The first time I sang in the church choir; two hundred people changed their religion.
quote by Fred Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chimes are the Wind
Chime’s are the Wind
“Chimes are the wind”, when it goes from Dawn to Twilight.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the sun goes down and the moon goes up.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the Ocean’s tidal waves splash the deep blue and the aqua
water and the tidal pools disappear.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the puffy white clouds cover the golden yellow sun.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the rain floods the river.
“Chimes are the wind”, when there’s a million possibilities.
“Chimes are the wind”, when there are no more possibilities to harm the world
when there’s such a peaceful place in the universe that there is so-many
possibilities there are endless possibilities.
By: Bella Martinez
poem by Bella Martinez
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With Bells On
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
Ive traveled around this country crossed the waters deep and wide
Made lots of friends and memories brought joy to others lives
Its christmas time again another year has come and gone
And I cant keep from wonderin how the old folks are at home
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
When the snow is on the meadow and the sleigh bells jingle bright
And the kids are singing jingle bells around the christmas lights
As daddy stokes the fire and mama puts the turkey on
There aint nothing going to slow me down this christmas Ill be home
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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And I Will Love You
I know a place,
Not far away where the sun always shines.
You will be mine,
And Ill love you.
I know a place where the sun always shines.
You will be mine,
And Ill love you.
Church bells will chime,
And they will know you are mine.
All of the time,
I will love you.
Church bells will chime so they know you are mine.
All of the time,
I will love you.
The finest moments in my life,
Is when you say youll be my wife.
Church bells will chime,
And they will know you are mine.
All of the time,
I will love you.
Church bells will chime so they know you are mine.
All of the time,
I will love you.
Yeah, Im gonna love you.
Im gonna love you,
Im gonna love you.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly Away Home
The bells toll for you today
To fly to your new home in
Yonder sky..
Spread your wings and fly
From down here below,
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
To your new home in
Yonder sky..
Our hearts are broken and
We fill so blue,
Many tears has been shred
For miss you so
We know you have pass through
Heavens gates
Your journey was hard but the
Bell toll
For you to come home in yonder
Sky..
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
Your great work you accomplished
Down here below
Have been awarded
Your memory will never fade
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
To your new home in yonder
Sky..
If I had not died I would have
Been a gospel singer..
But since I’d died I will sing
In the heavenly choir..
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home...
poem by Carolyn Sears
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The Choir
I remember bells on a Christmas morn.
The cry of life from a child newborn.
My fathers laugh
Now on the breeze
My childrens prayers on bended knees.
Sweet sounds in silence
Such are these.
Ringing
In and out of my soul
Bringing peace
This cruel world stole.
I survived
I walked the wire
But when you arrived
I heard the choir.
Sweet love once whispered in my ear
My heart heard bands of angels cheer.
Then, the helpless sobbing of my mother
Heart attack
Robbing her of brother.
My dog would bark
His eyes just shone
When i came home.
- Now all are gone.
Sweet sounds in silence
Reverberate
Like dying embers in the grate,
We watch them fade
Then dissipate
To corners of our mind
That tears eventually find.
I ached for all the trains I missed.
Just one true love to light my fire.
Then
By E- mail we as good as kissed
And at my window sang
That invisible choir.
poem by Kevin East
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