Of Bells Anatomy There Is Much
of bells
anatomy there
is much to
say
of the
elements,
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly
used
of infusion
into cuppolas
the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end
but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak
tonally only
overtones inviolate
in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into, quakes into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
&
annunciant round
of hammers
so many dawns
times so many
goings down of
the sun
O lover
of thee
I adore
in timbre
thru the
window rings
the arms too
cling wring
out
breath to
breath
outreach this
to introduce some
levity
for we (loves)
were many day-ed
times merry
we merrily played
harming no one,
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
many breaths
exchanged, groped
times the many
ropes
all our
wanting
hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filligreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis
lapses into what
self is (a bell
shaped fiercely
formed)
uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces
faces which are
even
eyes which now
glaze with love/
loss
a multitude
of petals
peels
the jasmine
unspurned
at last
at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips curved
out to ring
sing of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen
as if to kiss
the antinomies
a string
of pearls
anemones
& thee
bring all them
back, so many,
to me now
their vespers
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies
continents
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
rapture
contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each
reaching
the clappers
their constraining
rounds in too too
secure now rafters
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Evocation of River and Spirits
in this city
to guess
having no acumen with
numbers and math but
father's over there
in the cup tilted
over
spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams
it seems
from river bank
into memory which
is - already
over-said
overheard redundantly
as 'river
and time'
- this one
now recalled
to Mind, dad
dad
the cloud drift
and the flows
the tides beside
the city
(both sides)
is as ancient
as it always was
& is
as in the beginning
was darkness over deep
water & a word, any word
really would do it,
form something
out of deep, of
dark, of water
which shapes it-
self only by outer
circumstance,
in this case
a word
leading up to
this -
Palisades cliffs
above bridge tilt
toward, always,
currents,
the river
over-
flows north-
wards
tides rare defy-
ing the moon
that other pull,
you
live the other
side of
sand
the palm sewn
swaying adhered
to Mind
x 1
still, to pass the
time now
x 1
the sooty hand
x 1
over black
'mouth'
or word
allude perhaps
to river's at
city's start
up from water
the silver bay
capped, remembering
frigates
x countless
ferries torn
and Tories be-
tween seas
wars
vast to
the east
x duplicating
waves, stretches
the narrows,
the necks with
rocks strewn,
the lonely buoyless
waves over depths
their vespers
intone
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies
continents
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
rapture
x 1
whisper
contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each
reaching
x 2, the clappers
x 20,000
(of bells
anatomy there
is much to
say
(of the
elements,
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly
used)
of infusion
into cuppolas
the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end,
but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak
tonally only
overtones inviolate
in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into, quake into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
&
annunciant round
of hammers)
so many dawns
x so many goings
down of the sun
x fortune the lips
x myriad ones gone
before of murmurers
O lover
of thee
I adore
in timbre
thru the
window rings
the arms too
wring out
breath to
breath
x no more
embraces
into indolence
This, just to
reintroduce some
levity
for we (loves)
were many day-ed
x merry
we merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
x 1 too many breaths
exchanged, groped
x many ropes all our
wanting
father loves
with his cup
his pipe songs
of love
of love will he
dance between
the violent fasts
from love,
our mother,
with,
fast around around
& around the danced
living room
phonograph brass
loud plays
where June
curtains sway
me and Mr. Miller
I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into/
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
swell, so
marvelous &
so cruel, (upon
one silver stem
hangs the metal
tin top jags
tears at
memory edge
opens facts
FACT
that there was love,
there was love after
all
I can see
it smell it
feel it there
dancing round
the living
one dropp Mr.
Maxwell holds,
hold on to &
upon goodness
brown pulled
from below down
& dark into deep
such this is
the riddle it is
all now become
since you
departed, love
since you
departed I shall
count backward by
3's then by 4's
these father
memories
torquing
the
door which once
embraced you now
never lets you
go
x brooms
or releases
now you, love
are new memory
hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filligreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly
x all the x's
here accounted
for, listed,
besos as kisses
scribbles, notes,
letters,
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis
lapses into what
self is
uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces
faces which are
even
eyes which now
glaze with love/
loss
beside the flue
glaze upon the
pane
the black
mouse remains
stays,
is many,
a multitude
of petals
x 3
the jasmine
unspurned
at last
at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen, as if
to kiss
x memory
x Maxwell the
house the cup
O Mr. Miller
an O'Day serenade
plays close
...'Hi ho trailus
boot whip
boo boo daddy
floy floy'...
the late night
suppers of chops
the peeled onions
the laughter the
potatoes boil
& bubble in the
pot then
father
to dance
the butter in
the sizzle in
the cast iron
pan
their vespers
now descant,
descend
...'How high
the ocean, how
high the moon...
hungry
the
dish it has
all become
feast for
black 'mouth'
& mouse makes again
x 3 the antinomies
a string
of pearls
anemones
& thee O lover
bring all them
back, so many,
to me now
x Pennsylvania 6-500.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Life With Coffee Can, Father, River, Bell, Mouse, Lover Fled
[poet's note to the reader:
read the 'x's' as the word
'times' as in multiplication]
This
just to
reintroduce some
levity
for we (loves)
were many day-ed
x merry
we merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
x 1 too many breaths
exchanged, groped
x many ropes all our
wanting
I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into/
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
swell, so
marvelous &
so cruel upon
one silver stem
hangs the metal
tin top jags
tears at
memory edge
opens facts
now you, love
are new memory
hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filigreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly
x all the x's
here accounted
for, listed,
besos as kisses
scribbles, notes,
letters,
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis
lapses into what
self is
uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces
faces which are
even eyes which
now glaze with
love/loss
beside the flue
glaze upon the
pane
black
mouse remains
stays,
is many,
a multitude
of petals
x 3
the jasmine
unspurned
at last
at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen, as if
to kiss
x memory
x 3
the antinomies
a string
of pearls
anemones
& thee O lover
bring all them
back, so many,
to me now
memory
torques
into soft
teas
June
steeps
turns
steaming
said window
(and torsos)
said prints
views obscured
of nothing
in particular
or special,
but
troubles,
troubles only
of passing birds
enamored-of
(their lighter
bones)
or
are they
cloud and shadow,
merely the steep
sun declining ashen
into New Jersey?
occluded
silhouettes
contra ils
glyphs &
Maxwell House sign
'Good To The Last Drop'
familiar
cup for decades
tipped
tips &
one
(out-spilled)
drop
x 0 suspends
O suspends trembling
reflected in the water
river made of the many
countless drops
x (again) infinity
x (surprised) my
father there
(memento mori)
opening the
can all blue with
the same cup tilted
spilling that dark
brown dropp imprinted
x (the
dove,
to recall,
brown, shaped like
said drop, now
flown, or)
finally
spilled into water,
river currents
downward, to bottom
pulled sort/sift
my father always
complaining of grift,
a weather man by trade,
a cloud man once a
pilotWW2 drifting
often since enough
into sky
he turns
the silver opener
butterflied
round and round
with effort his
arthritic com-
plaints upon the
ridged silver top
of the can blue
with coffee
'course grind'
the better to drip
with within that
satisfying hiss
compacted air
hissing out
from compression
now released
the smell
then of coffee
fresh not yet
brewed in the
kitchen
the twist of
the edge jagged
silver metal
carefully turned
with fingers to
break the remain-
ing stem of metal
holding the round
to the can entire
unsealed now try
without spilling
the grounds
out
x at least 100 thousand
to guess having no
acumen with numbers
and math but father's
over
there in the cup tilted
over
spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams,
it seems from
river bank
into memory
which is,
already
over-said
overheard
redundantly
as river
and time,
this one
now recalled
to mind,
dad
dad
the cloud drift
and the flows
the tides beside
the city
(both sides)
is as ancient
as it always was
& is
as 'in the beginning
was darkness over deep
water & a word, '
any word really
would do it,
form
something
out of deep,
of dark,
of water
which shapes
itself only
by outer
circumstance
in this case
a word
leading up to
this -
Palisades cliffs
above bridge
allude perhaps
to river at
city's start
up from water
the silver bay
capped, remembering
centuries' frigates
x countless
ferries torn
and Tories be-
tween seas
wars
vast to
the east
x duplicating
waves, stretches
the narrows
the necks with
rocks strewn,
the lonely buoyless
waves over depths
their vespers
intone
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies
continents
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
rapture
x 1 whisper
contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each
reaching
x 2,
the clappers
x 20,000
(of bells
anatomy there
is much to
say
(of the
elements,
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly
used)
of infusion
into cuppolas
the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end,
but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak
tonally only
overtones inviolate
in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into quakes into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
& annunciate
round of hammers)
so many dawns
x so many goings
down of the sun
x fortune the lips
x myriad ones gone
before of murmurers
O lover
of thee
I adore
in timbre
thru the
window rings
(the bells)
the arms
of which
too
wring out
breath to
breath
x no more
embraces
into indolence
This
(yet)
again
(late
offering)
just to
reintroduce some
levity
for we
(loves)
were many day-ed
x merry we
merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scroll For New York City - A Son To His Sums of Eros & Father, Oh! & The River
memory
torques
into soft
teas
June
steeps
turns
steaming
said window
(and torsos)
said prints
views obscured
of nothing
in particular
or special,
but
troubles,
troubles only
of passing birds
enamored-of
(their lighter
bones)
or
are they
cloud and shadow,
merely the steep
sun declining ashen
into New Jersey?
occluded
silhouettes
contrails
glyphs &
Maxwell House sign
'Good To The Last Drop'
the familiar
cup for decades
tipped
tips &
one
(out-spilled)
drop
x 0 suspends
o suspends trembling
reflected in the water
river made of the many
countless drops
x (again) infinity
x (surprised) my
father there
(memento mori)
opening the
can all blue with
the same cup tilted
spilling that dark
brown dropp imprinted
x (the
dove, to recall,
brown, shaped like
said drop, now
flown, or) finally
spilled into water,
river currents
downward, to bottom
pulled sort/sift
my father always
complaining of grift,
a weather man by trade,
a cloud man once a pilot
WW2 drifting often since
enough into sky,
he turns
the silver opener
butterflied
round and round
with effort his
arthritic com-
plaints upon the
ridged silver top
of the can blue
with coffee
'course grind'
the better to drip
with within that
satisfying hiss
compacted air
hissing out
from compression
now released
the smell
then of coffee
fresh not yet
brewed in the
kitchen
the twist of
the edge jagged
silver metal
carefully turned
with fingers to
break the remain-
ing stem of metal
holding the round
to the can entire
unsealed now try
without spilling
the grounds
out
x at least 100 thousand
to guess having no
acumen with numbers
and math but father's
over
there in the cup tilted
over
spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams, it seems
from river bank
into memory which
is, already
over-said
overheard redundantly
as river
and time,
this one
now recalled
to Mind, dad,
dad
the cloud drift
and the flows
the tides beside
the city
both sides
is as ancient
as it always was
& is
as in the beginning
was darkness over deep
water & a word, any word
really would do it,
form something
out of deep, of
dark, of water
which shapes it-
self only by outer
circumstance,
in this case
a word
leading up to
this -
Palisades cliffs
above bridge tilt
toward, always,
currents,
the river
over-
flows north-
wards
tides rare defy-
ing the moon
that other pull,
you
live the other
side of
sand
the palm sewn
swaying adhered
to Mind
x 1
still, to pass the
time now
x 1
the sooty hand
x 1
over black
'mouth'
or word
allude perhaps
to river's at
city's start
up from water
the silver bay
capped, remembering
frigates
x countless
ferries torn
and Tories be-
tween seas
wars
vast to
the east
x duplicating
waves, stretches
the narrows,
the necks with
rocks strewn,
the lonely buoyless
waves over depths
their vespers
intone
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies
continents
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
rapture
x 1
whisper
contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each
reaching
x 2, the clappers
x 20,000
(of bells
anatomy there
is much to
say
(of the
elements,
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly
used)
of infusion
into cuppolas
the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end,
but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak
tonally only
overtones inviolate
in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into, quake into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
&
annunciant round
of hammers)
so many dawns
x so many goings
down of the sun
x fortune the lips
x myriad ones gone
before of murmurers
O lover
of thee
I adore
in timbre
thru the
window rings
the arms too
wring out
breath to
breath
x no more
embraces
into indolence
This, just to
reintroduce some
levity
for we (loves)
were many day-ed
x merry
we merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
x 1 too many breaths
exchanged, groped
x many ropes all our
wanting
father loves
with his cup
his pipe songs
of love
of love will
he dance between
the violent fasts
from love,
our mother, with,
fast around around
& around the danced
living room
phonograph brass
loud plays
where June
curtains sway
me and Mr. Miller
(Glenn)
I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into/
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
swell, so
marvelous &
so cruel, (upon
one silver stem
hangs the metal
tin top jags
tears at
memory edge
opens facts
FACT
that there was love,
there was love after
all
I can see
it smell it
feel it there
dancing round
the living
one dropp Mr.
Maxwell holds,
hold on to &
upon goodness
brown pulled
from below down
& dark into deep
such this is
the riddle it is
all now become
since you
departed, love
since you
departed I shall
count backward by
3's then by 4's
these father
memories
torquing
the
door which once
embraced you now
never lets you
go
x brooms
or releases
now you, love
are new memory
hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filligreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly
x all the x's
here accounted
for, listed,
besos as kisses
scribbles, notes,
letters,
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis
lapses into what
self is
uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces
faces which are
even
eyes which now
glaze with love/
loss
beside the flue
glaze upon the
pane
the black
mouse remains
stays,
is many,
a multitude
of petals
x 3
the jasmine
unspurned
at last
at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen, as if
to kiss
x memory
x Maxwell the
house the cup
O Mr. Miller
an O'Day serenade
plays close
...'Hi ho trailus
boot whip
boo boo daddy
floy floy'...
the late night
suppers of chops
the peeled onions
the laughter the
potatoes boil
& bubble in the
pot then
father
to dance
the butter in
the sizzle in
the cast iron
pan
their vespers
now descant,
descend
...'How high
the moon...
hungry
the
dish it has
all become
feast for
black 'mouth'
& mouse makes again
x 3 the antinomies
a string
of pearls
anemones
& thee O lover
bring all them
back, so many,
to me now
x Pennsylvania 6-500.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem In Fragments Beginning With A Line From Berryman, Black Mouse Series Ensuing
[the poem begins with a line by John Berryman ending with the word 'honey']
Childness let's have us honey, flame intended,
names smeared on the glass, an accidental pane
times hands touching it delicate as trespass,
what is allowed lace of vision times want equals
at last a sum equals at last a remorse felt,
a memory - sunk into soft teas - steeping, turns
steaming said window said prints/views obscured
of nothing in particular or special, troubles only,
only of passing birds enamored of (their lighter
bones) or are they cloud and shadow? merely the
steep sun declining ashen into the Jersey side?
*
O come lover back the floor where we lay a'times
upon boards the cluttered clothes the depositions
times at least three and take me once again one
times infinity into your arms times two leave me
when you/we are done doing times zero a mere cypher
flown sheer up the flue into the blue ash which now
the sky is where (there is only one sky) a dove flies
into possibility of memory or not times countless
thousands times plus the time it takes for you to
exit shedding skins, shells (am a shell, water you?
you decide) times infinity into the one drain in-
*
to ocean reflecting blue sky of ash blew into what
remains of you on the beach bathing soft Junes,
boardwalk organ grinder smiling/sings 'amor fati'
mellifluously on as hairs their bodies follicles
delicate when under the glass espied over-spills
into o endlessly it's seams, it seems, into memory
which is already over-said overheard redundantly a
river and time, this one recalled, the cloud drift
and the river the tides beside the city both sides
is as ancient as it always was and is - in the beginning
was darkness over deep water and a word, any word
*
really would do form something out of deep, of dark,
of water which shapes only by outer circumstance itself
in this case a word leading up to this contraction of
bellies against each times two, and legs times four,
and lips times myriad ones gone before - of murmurs
O lover of thee I adore - I am unkindly left remembering
once was laughter spent seeking out between bodies' valleys
eternally shifting eluding capture, this, just to reintroduce
some levity for we were many day-ed times merry-merrily
played harming no one not even the mouse unmoved per-
haps, watching perhaps, still, still, from beneath the
*
god you insisted be excluded from all our nakedness
times one too many breaths exchanged, groped times
many ropes all our wanting the curtained dancer en-
tranced entered into upon a mystery how one could be
so, well, so marvelous and so cruel too as one wills
memory - an edge tears open: Fact: that there was love,
there was love after all I could see it smell it feel
it there dancing round the living room one holds on
to, and upon goodness worn out pulled from below down
and dark and deep such is this so it is the riddle it
is all now become since you departed, love, since you
*
departed I shall count backward by threes then fours
the door which once embraced you now never lets you
go no matter the black or blue tide of thee O lover,
what slips out ebbs black back into lapis, lapses in-
to what self is uttered/poured scored transparent upon
surfeit surface/faces which are even eyes which now
glaze with love lost beside the flue marked upon the
pane blue the mouse black upon the floor remains is
many, a multitude of petals times three the jasmine
unspurned at last at last/least return soft Junes the
lips of which are sometimes pink of lavender swollen
*
as if to kiss times three the antinomies a string of
pearls and thee O lover to me back 'splaying shyly
where the curtains sway/stand behind them the curtained
dancer entranced/entered into upon a mystery the organ
grinder smiles/sings 'amor fati' mellifluously on
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fragments Beginning With A Line By Berryman
for Karthik
Childness let's have us honey
flame intended
name smeared
on the glass
an accidental
pane
x hands touching it
delicate
as trespass
what is allowed
lace of
vision
x want
= at last a sum
= at last a remorse
felt
a memory
sunk into
soft teas
steeps
turns
steami ng
said window
said prints,
views obscured
of nothing
in particular,
or special,
troubles only,
only of passing
birds enamored
of
(their lighter
bones)
or
are they
cloud and shadow?
merely the steep
sun declining ashen
into the Jersey side?
O come lover
back
the floor where we
lay times upon boards
the cluttered
clothes the
depositions
x at least 3
and take me once
again one
x infinity
into your arms
x 2
leave me when
you/we are done doing
x 0
a mere cypher flown
sheer up the flue
into the blue ash
which now the sky is
where
(there is only one
sky)
a dove flies
into some possibility
of memory
or not
x 35 thousand
x plus the time it
takes for you to exit
shedding skins, shells
(am a shell,
water you?
you decide)
x infinity into
the one drain in-
to ocean reflecting
blue sky of ash
into what remains
of you on the beach
bathing soft Junes
the organ grinder
smiles/sings 'amor
fati' mellifluously
the boardwalk on
x planks from
many trees
x ants in the
roots lumber
their endless
burdens black
or red carapaces
shining as if
sand
x grains untold
as hairs their
bodies follicles
delicate when
under the glass
espied
over-spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams, it seems
into memory
which is, already
over-said
overheard redundantly
a river
and time,
this one
recalled,
the cloud drift
and the river
the tides beside
the city both sides
is as ancient
as it always was
& is
in the beginning
was darkness
over deep water
& a word, any word
really would do
form something
out of deep, of
dark, of water
which shapes it-
self only by outer
circumstance
in this case
a word
leading up to
this
contraction
of bellies
against
each
x 2, and legs
x 4, and lips
x myriad ones gone
before of murmurs
O lover
of thee
I adore
I am unkindly
left remembering
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies'
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
capture
this
just to re-
introduce some
levity for we
were many day-ed
x merry
merrily played
harming no one
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
x 1 too many breaths
exchanged, groped
x many ropes all our
wanting
the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
so marvelous
& so cruel too
as one wills
a silver stem
sharp the metal
top jags memory-
edge tears open
facts
that there was love,
there was love after
all
I could see
it smell it
feel it there
dancing round
the livingroom
one holds
on to & upon
goodness brown
pulled from below
down & dark & deep
such is so
this is the
riddle it is
all now become
since you
departed, love
since you
departed I shall
count backward by
3's then 4's the
door which once
embraced you now
never lets you
go
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into
lapis
lapses into what
self is uttered/
poured scored
transparent upon
surfeit surface
faces
which are
even
eyes which now
glaze with love
lost
beside the flue
marked upon the
pane blue
the mouse
black remains
is many
a multitude
of petals
x 3
the jasmine
unspurned
at last at
last/least
return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink of
lavender
swollen as
if to kiss
x 3 the antinomies
a string of pearls
& thee O lover
back to me
playing
loud where the
curtains sway
I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into
upon a mystery
the organ grinder
smiles/sings 'amor
fati' mellifluously on
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Ways Of Looking At A Black Mouse
[to the reader:
This is part of a series poem...this one
follows 'Instead of You Today One Black Mouse'
which should be read before this one for greater
context. There is a playing going on in both
poems which is not only about love had and lost,
a black mouse that shows up, as well as a dove,
the day before the lover returns permanently
to live in native country of India. There is
a Wallace Stevens' playing with notions of
poetry, meaning, and more, and a playing with
language and signs which shall hopefully lend
some jarring but enjoyable takes/slants/songs/
glyphs.
When you see the 'x's
in the poem, read
'times' as in the
math sign for multi-
plication. & of course
the = sign should
be read as 'equals']
keep saying/
writing 'mouth'
when I want to
speak of the
black 'mouse'
which seems to
have left soon
after it appeared
as you departed.
'Mouth' and
'mouse',
'black mouth',
open and shut.
The window,
the casings
fall, clatter
scattering the
dove brown
upon the space
between the
escape escaping
what is become
poise no
longer.
'Mouth', the
stronger, is.
Is blackness,
I think, insisting
its way past thinking
into mouth or ink
so it is that
lips which are
sometimes pink,
swollen, as if to
kiss, miss the dove
by a wink, and the
mouse is somewhere
else,
at,
passed to
other spaces
still I feel you,
you're here, big
ears, black fur
of Mind
still love, I moan
this morning saying
aloud before the
covers are kicked
he is gone,
hands x 4
he is gone,
feet x 4
he is gone,
lips x 4
he is gone,
heavy groin x 2
he is gone,
heavy groan x 2
the chimney flue
suddenly
in a little
breeze from
above
loosens the ancient
ash from the caked
brick
x countless
number and the
anxious hands, again,
against the grain
x 4
push one finger
x 1
into that ash
writes
x 2 two names
plus 1 subtracted
from the empty
escape
x 1
and another day
of counting
minutes
hours
x seconds
of seconds is
begun begging
Love, yes,
backing in
the floor where we
lay our cluttered
clothes deposed
x at least 3
take me once
again one
x infinity
into your arms
x 2
and leave me when
you/we are done doing
x 0
a mere cypher flown
sheer up the flue
into the blue ash
which now the sky
is
where
(there is
only one
sky)
a dove flies
into some
possibility
of memory
or not
x 35 thousand
x plus the time it
takes for you to exit
shedding skins shells
(I am a shell)
x infinity into
the one drain in-
to ocean reflecting
the ash of what remains
of you on the beach
bathing soft Junes,
the organ grinder
smiles/sings 'te
amo, amor fati'
mellifluously
from the boardwalk
Coney cotton candy
disposed in gales
from breaking
waves, tumbles,
smears, speared
on the weathered
wood
x planks from
many trees
x ants in the
roots lumber-
ing their end-
less burdens
black or red
carapaces as
if shining
sand or sugar
unspun
x grains untold
as hairs, their
bodies follicles
delicate, when
under the June
glass espied
magnified count-
less, collected,
caught upon the
webbed threads
of your large
soft towel with
the palm tree
sewn upon
that I have burned
in the old grate,
a first fire
long awaited
x 30 years since
the last,
undisturbed by
carbon dates
x all times
black mouth
yawns sun into
the window frame
yellow the
other flame
intended name
smears on the
glass an accidental
pane, Mind
x hands touching it
delicate as trespass
what is allowed lace
of vision
x want
= at last a sum
= a remorse felt
memory
torques,
into soft
teas
June
steeps
tur ns
steaming
said window
(and torsos)
said prints
views obscured
of nothing
in particular or
special, but
troubles, troubles
only of passing
birds enamored-of
(their lighter
bones)
or
are they
cloud and shadow,
merely the steep
sun declining ashen
into the Jersey side?
occluded
silhouettes
contrails
glyphs &
Maxwell House
'Good To The Last Drop'
sign,
the familiar
cup for decades
tipped
tips &
one
(out-spilled)
drop
x 0 suspends
o suspends trembling
reflected in the water
river made of the many
countless drops
x (again) infinity
x (surprised) my
father there
(momento mori)
opening the
can all blue with
the same cup tilted
spilling that dark
brown dropp imprinted
x (the
dove, to recall,
brown, shaped like
said drop, now
flown, or) finally
spilled into water,
river currents
downward, to bottom
pulled sort/sift
my father always
complaining of grift,
a weather man by trade,
a cloud man once a pilot
WW2 drifting often since/
enough into sky,
he turns
the silver opener
butterflied
round and round
with effort, his
arthritic com-
plaints upon the
ridged silver top
of the can blue
with coffee
'course grind'
the better to drip
with within &
that satisfying
hiss of compacted
air hissing out
from within
compressed now
released
the smell
then
of coffee fresh
not yet brewed
in the kitchen
the twist of
the edge jagged
silver metal
carefully turned
with fingers to
break the remain-
ing stem of metal
holding the round
to can entire
unsealed now try
without spilling
the grounds
out
x at least 100 thousand
to guess having no
acumen with numbers
and math but father's
over
there in the cup tilted
over spilling into
o endlessly
it's seams, it seems
from river bank
into memory which
is, already
over-said
overheard redundantly
as river
and time,
this one
now recalled
to Mind, dad,
dad
the cloud drift
and the flows
the tides beside
the city
both sides
is as ancient
as it always was
& is
as in the beginning
was darkness over deep
water & a word, any word
really would do it,
form something
out of deep, of
dark, of water
which shapes it-
self only by outer
circumstance,
in this case
a word
leading up to
this -
Palisades cliffs
above bridge tilt
toward, always,
currents, the river
over-
flows north-
wards
tides rare defy-
ing the moon
that other pull,
you
live the other
side of
sand
the palm sewn
swaying adhered
to Mind
x 1
still, to pass the
time now
x 1
the sooty hand
x 1
over black
'mouth'
or word 'mouse'
allude perhaps
to river at
city's start
up from water
the silver bay
capped, remembering
frigates
x countless
ferries torn
and Tories be-
tween seas
wars
vast to
the east
x duplicating
waves, stretches
the narrows,
the necks with
rocks strewn,
the lonely buoyless
depths their vespers
intone
I am, unkindly,
left remembering
once was laughter
spent
seeking out
between bodies
valleys eternally
shifting eluding
rapture
x 1
whisper
hand over 'mouse'
or 'mouth' conjured
x 1 more
contraction
of sentinel
bells against
each of each
reaching
x 2, the legs
x 4, the lips
x myriad ones gone
before, of murmurers
O lover
of thee
I adore
the arms
x no more
embraces
This, just to
reintroduce some
levity
for we
were many day-ed
x merry
we merrily played
harming no one,
not even the
mouse unmoved
perhaps, watching
perhaps, still,
still, from beneath
the god you insisted
be excluded from
all our nakedness
x 1 too many breaths
exchanged, groped
x many ropes all our
wanting
father loves
with his cup
his pipe songs
of love
of love will
he dance between
the violent fasts
from love,
our mother, with,
fast around around
& around the danced
living room
phonograph brass
loud plays
where June
curtains sway
me and Mr. Miller
(Glenn)
I stand behind
them the curtained
dancer entranced
entered into/
upon a mystery
how one could
be so, well,
swell, so
marvelous &
so cruel, (upon
one silver stem
hangs the metal
tin top jags
tears at
memory edge
opens facts
FACT
that there was love,
there was love after
all
I can see
it smell it
feel it there
dancing round
the living
one dropp Mr.
Maxwell holds,
hold on to &
upon goodness
brown pulled
from below down
& dark into deep
such this is
the riddle it is
all now become
since you
departed, love
since you
departed I shall
count backward by
3's then by 4's
the
door which once
embraced you now
never lets you
go
x brooms
or releases
x all the x's
here accounted
for, listed,
besos as kisses
scribbles, notes,
letters,
no matter
the black or
blue tide
of thee
O lover
what
slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis
lapses into what
self is
uttered/poured,
scored trans-
parent upon
surfaces
faces which are
even
eyes which now
glaze with love/
loss
beside the flue
glaze upon the
pane
the black
mouse remains
stays,
is many,
a multitude
of petals
x 3
the jasmine
unspurned
at last
at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips of
which are
sometimes
pink, of
lavender
swollen, as if
to kiss
x memory
x Maxwell the
house the cup
O Mr. Miller
an O'Day serenade
plays close
...'Hi ho trailus
boot whip
boo boo daddy
floy floy'...
the late night
suppers of chops
the peeled onions
the laughter the
potatoes boil
& bubble in the
pot then
father
to dance
the butter in
the sizzle in
the cast iron
pan
their vespers
now descant,
descend
...'How high
the moon...
x 1 black 'mouth'
hungry
the
dish it has
all become
feast for
black 'mouth'
& mouse makes again
x 3 the antinomies
a string
of pearls
anemones
& thee O lover
bring all them
back, so many,
to me now
x Pennsylvania 6-500.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells yea heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on it's side
And time is running backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells!
Ring them bells Saint Peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
That the rush hour is now on the wheel and the plow and the sun is going down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells Saint Martha for the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with little lost sheep
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few who would judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
song performed by by Heart from Desire Walks On
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bell from the sanctuaries, 'cross the valleys and streams
For they're deep and they're wide, and the world's on its side
And time is a-runnin' backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells St. Peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh it's rush hour now. on the wheel of the plow
And the sun is a-goin' down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet Martha for the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willow weep
And the mountain is filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells - for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells - all those who are left
Ring them bells - for the chosen few
Who'll judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells - for the time that flies
For the child who cries when innocence dies
Ring them bells St. Catherine from the top of the roof
Ring the bells from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long and the fighting is strong
And they're breakin' down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Alice In Chains
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bell from the sanctuaries, cross the valleys and streams
For theyre deep and theyre wide, and the worlds on its side
And time is a-runnin backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells st. peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh its rush hour now. on the wheel of the plow
And the sun is a-goin down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet martha for the poor mans son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willow weep
And the mountain is filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells - for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells - all those who are left
Ring them bells - for the chosen few
Wholl judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells - for the time that flies
For the child who cries when innocence dies
Ring them bells st. catherine from the top of the roof
Ring the bells from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long and the fighting is strong
And theyre breakin down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bells - A Collaboration
The bells! — ah, the bells!
The little silver bells!
How fairy-like a melody there floats
From their throats. —
From their merry little throats —
From the silver, tinkling throats
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!
The bells! — ah, the bells!
The heavy iron bells!
How horrible a monody there floats
From their throats —
From their deep-toned throats —
From their melancholy throats!
How I shudder at the notes
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London Bells
Two sticks and an apple,
Ring the bells at Whitechapel.
Old Father Bald Pate,
Ring the bells Aldgate.
Maids in white aprons,
Ring the bells at St. Catherine`s.
Oranges and Lemons,
Ring the bells at St. Clement`s.
When will you pay me?
Ring the bells at the Old Bailey.
When I am rich,
Ring the bells at Fleetditch.
When will that be?
Ring the bells of Stepney.
When I am old,
Ring the great bell at Paul`s.
Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams
For theyre deep and theyre wide
And the worlds on its side
And time is running backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells saint peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh its rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet martha for the poor mans son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many
When the game is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
For the child that cries
When innocence dies
Ring them bells saint catherine from the top of the room
Ring them from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And theyre breaking down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bells Of Christmas
Imagine a boy
Kneeling by the window
Lookin out across the driveway at the rain
Will it always rain
I remember the bells
Comin from the churchyard
And I thought they played their music just for me
And day by day
The rain turned to snow
I dont hear them anymore
The bells of christmas
Will ring for us again
When we truly do believe
What christmas really means
So light a candle
That every man may see
The world of hope and promise
Like the one we knew back when and
Well ring the bells of christmas
Once again
There was a girl
Lived around the corner
With eyes as black as marys must have been
I wonder
Does she miss her friend
I remember the day
All the bells were ringing
As I watched her cross the churchyard in the snow
And all my searching
For all I lack
Is just trying to get that feeling back
The bells of christmas
Will ring for us again
When we truly do believe
What christmas really means
So light a candle
That every man may see
A world of hope and promise
Like the one we knew back when and
Well ring the bells of christmas once again
The future of the world, they say
Is in the childrens hands
Perhaps if we could let them lead
Wed come to understand
The bells of christmas
Will ring for us again
When we truly do believe
What christmas really means
So light a candle that every man may see
Like the one we knew back when and
Well ring the bells of christmas once again
Well ring the bells of christmas once again
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wedding
O marriage-bells, your clamor tells
Two weddings in one breath.
SHE marries whom her love compels:
-- And I wed Goodman Death!
My brain is blank, my tears are red;
Listen, O God: -- "I will," he said: --
And I would that I were dead.
Come groomsman Grief and bridesmaid Pain
Come and stand with a ghastly twain.
My Bridegroom Death is come o'er the meres
To wed a bride with bloody tears.
Ring, ring, O bells, full merrily:
Life-bells to her, death-bells to me:
O Death, I am true wife to thee!
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ring Out, Solstice Bells
Now is the solstice of the year,
Winter is the glad song that you hear.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Have the lads up ready in a line.
Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Join together beneath the mistletoe.
By the holy oak whereon it grows.
Seven druids dance in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Praise be to the distant sister sun,
Joyful as the silver planets run.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out those bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Ring on, ring out.
Ring on, ring out.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bells Of The Evening
Bells of the evening, o sing to my love
Tell her I miss her, my own turtledove
The streets of the old town are covered with rain
I think I might never know true love again
Im lost with no road signs to guide me
A slave to my whiskey and dreams
Bells of the evening, o bells that I love
Ive got some feelings I long to be rid of
Im not one to ramble; Im not one to boast
Though I had one lover more lovely than most
She was a country girl born to be free
Who took to the city by chance there to find me
Bells of the evening go pealin
Im down here listenin to you
Bells of the evening, o bells of the sea
Tell her that I love her, that Im lost and so lonely
Bells of the evening, your sweet sunday sound
Reminds me of the redwoods and moss covered ground
So if I should wander on back to the coast
Tell her to remember its her I need the most
Im caught by the minstrels misfortune
Of being forever displaced
Bells of the evening, o bells of the sea
Tell her that I love her; that Im lost Im so lonely
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bells
And the actresses relate
To the actor who comes home late
After the plays have gone down
And the crowds have scattered around
Though the city lights and the streets
No ticket could be beat
For the beautiful show of shows
Ah, broadway only knows
The great white milky way
It had something to say
When he fell down on his knees
After soaring through the air
With nothing to hold him there
It was really not so cute
To play without a parachute
As he stood upon the ledge
Looking out, he thought he saw a brook
And he hollered, look, there are the bells
And he sang out, here come the bells
Here come the bells, here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jingle Bells
(James Pierpont)
Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go, laughing all the way;
Bells on bob-tail ring, making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
A day or two ago, I thought I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright, was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank, misfortune seemed his lot;
We ran into a drifted bank and there we got upset
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
Instrumental
Oh, Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
Oh, Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh
In a one-horse open sleigh...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bells Of Christmas
The bells of christmas go ring-a-ling-ling
They toll for the savior and the peace hell bring
And little children everywhere are caroling
cause the presence of the lord makes their spirits sing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Bells are ringing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Children singing
The bells of notre dame cathedral will chime
And everywhere a princely peace
And there they light the candles up one at a time
For the ones they love at christmastime
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Bells are ringing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Children singing
The omnipresent spirit of the world will sing
That christ is born
Oh oh oh
And people of the world are all rejoicing
For the baby jesus born in nazarene
The bells of christmas go ring-a-ling-ling
They toll for the savior and the peace hell bring
And little children everywhere are caroling
cause the presence of the lord makes their spirits sing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Bells are ringing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Children singing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Bells are ringing
Oh oh oh oh
Bells of christmas
Children singing
Ah
Ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah
Oh oh oh oh
Ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sleigh-Bells
'Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
To know the bounding steeds bring near
The loved one to our bosoms dear.
Ah, lightly we spring the fire to raise,
Till the rafters glow with the ruddy blaze;
Those merry sleigh-bells, our hearts keep time
Responsive to their fairy chime.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er vale and hill,
Their welcome notes are trembling still.
'Tis he, and blithely the gay bells sound,
As his sleigh glides over the frozen ground;
Hark! He has pass'd the dark pine wood,
He crosses now the ice-bound flood,
And hails the light at the open door
That tells his toilsome journey's o'er.
The merry sleigh-bells! My fond heart swells
And trobs to hear the welcome bells;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er ice and snow,
A voice of gladness, on they go.
Our hut is small, and rude our cheer,
But love has spread the banquet here;
And childhood springs to be caress'd
By our beloved and welcome guest.
With a smiling brow his tale he tells,
The urchins ring the merry sleigh-bells;
The merry sleigh-bells, with shout and song
They drag the noisy string along;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, the father's come
The gay bells ring his welcome home.
From the cedar swamp the gaunt wolves howl,
From the oak loud whoops the felon owl;
The snow-storm sweeps in thunder past,
The forest creaks beneath the blast;
No more I list, with boding fear,
The sleigh-bells distant chime to hear.
The merry sleigh-bells with soothing power
Shed gladness on the evening hour.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, what rapture swells
The music of those joyous bells!
poem by Susanna Strickland Moodie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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