A view from my mind
Tinkled – the Sundays’ bells
Brought by the wings
Flown beyond the dodge palace
With Corelli and
Landed on Lido beach
To graph a new sound.
Cars violated the sight
And lit purple butterflies
Over the ocean candles
A woman dressed white
Kissed the sky
And her eye lifted
The sound to the bells’ ear
I returned to Venezia left the sound behind
And stopped at the Guardini de la biennale.
Gregorian hymn from San Marco
Dropped
Into the stream water in flame
Memory.
Purple rains unease
The air
Sundays
Died
In peace.
poem by Roland Bastien
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Related quotes
Bells, Pool And Sleep
Bells overbrim with sound
And spread from cupolas
Out through the shaking air
Endless unbreaking circles
Cool and clear as water.
A stone dropped in the water
Opens the lips of the pool
And starts the unovertaking
Rings, till the pool is full
Of waves as the air of bells.
The deep-sea bell of sleep
Under the pool of the mind
Flowers in concentric circles
Of annihilation till
Both sight and sound die out,
Both pool and bells are quelled.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bells Are Ringing
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound
The bells are ringing
And everyones walking
With arms extended in a trance
Forgetting their washing
Neglecting the children
Theyre dropping all businesses at hand
A voice is telling them to act a different way
They tilt their heads so they wont miss what it will say
(no) and when its so
(no) theres this to know
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
A girl with cotton in her ears
Is shielded from the bells effect
As if by hidden signal
The people turn to face her
One thousand eyes are staring
They pull away her earplugs
The bells are pealing
And theyre revealing
The simple key to happiness
It isnt evil
It isnt good
Its only what the people miss
The bells explain what theyve been lacking all along
They were disorganized and that was what was wrong
(no) and now they know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bells Sweet Sound
Bells are pulled for lovers,
Bells sweet sound,
Bells resounding tone is for lovers.
Each stinging ring vibrates a message for the couple brought together,
They are holding hands,
Kissing
Gazing into each other’s eyes
Embracing
Knowing they will have a lyrical future together.
As each note chimes the meaning is pronounced,
I love you, our flesh will be one, our desires satiated,
Will there be children in the future?
Prosperity,
Monogyny,
Sobriety,
The bells ring an ambrosial life,
As the notes sound now each has great resonation a beautiful future.
poem by Mark Glaser
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Fade To Purple
As if Im sitting on purple clouds
Covered in purple shrouds
Singing purple kissed melodies loud
The Purple Master himself would be proud
Gifted, these fragrant purple flowers
Soaking wet, drenched from purple showers
Lifted, high high high atop purple towers
Yet as I walk through purple haze rooms
Filled with purple phased fumes
Im enlightened by the purple tazed blooms
Purple vibes that remove crazed glooms
Hungry I appetize on purple wood blunts
To then feast upon a purple smoke lunch
Break bread, along with the purple grape bunch
Fade To Purple To Get Me Through The Crunch
poem by Jamie Ellen Christian
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Bells Ringing
bells ringing...
thousands and thousands
of bells.... ringing....
the chorus of crows,
the sound of the whip
cracking on thousands
of backs, , ,
black and white,
brown and red....
the fat-bellied ticket taker
stands with hand outstretched...
cant pay the fare... cant ride....
left standing on the corner
of lost, and nameless.
marching to death, leaving
no trace, no footprints....
the bastard children of freedom,
no home to return to....
look up, look up!
the skies full of wings!
bells are ringing!
thousands and thousands
of bells... and each one
has a name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle in My Ground with Romantic Sound!
On doggerel rime dedicated to you, catch my soul in narcotic romance,
In rash I'll be disjointed; in a flash, my spirit gratifies in hypnotic trance;
For in my verse I find joy in my voice as you're my Hobson's choice!
On the paper, I bare my soul to you as you are my vocalizing voice.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle in my ground with romantic sound!
Thinking of you, I look at heavens and all I see is blue,
Blue skies, white clouds, but not one trace of you oh baby, baby!
I look deep into the dark night yet of no avail, I'm in love flu;
So I surfed within my heart I saw a star with your smile, oh baby baby.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle in my ground with romantic sound!
Let me tell you how I feel: I love you along as galaxies live, oh baby!
Look into my eyes without a blink, an island pink, oh baby,
When the sun goes down, will you be there to walk in lawn? baby!
You can see my dreams, my sorrows, my joys and more, oh baby!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle in my ground with romantic sound!
Pass the sugar baby; pass it, don't say maybe, baby, baby!
Kisses come with dawning sugar-sweet in the morning, oh Baby;
I become a waterwheel, turning and tasting you is my new hobby!
There's none for me so set our melody to blast forever, baby.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle in my ground with romantic sound!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Carillon Bells
Hark to the sound
of carillon bells.
They vibrate and ring
as their song swells
while filling the air
with sonorous glee
as you listen for
spontaneity.
But carillon bells
can be counted on
to ring with
regularitry
a ding-dong
ding-dong bell
as if the hammers
know full well
that rapidity brings
a welcome sound,
giving the listener
what has been found
expectant, resonant
tones so round
as they hark to the sound
of carillon bells.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Eternity of my soaring
My whole life I kept for you, a reason
of annunciated dimensions, prorogued;
my turned to the winds hands, a mizzen,
account on dusks of a bitter monologue.
All of my soul's children hunt storms
first sight of our sun, repleted light's wit;
amid winds of ghostly-dreamy forms,
sounded the Bells of our morning reached.
My pulse yon spreads, on church bells,
rhythm of waves inscribed on time's embers,
escorting me on Sundays, a name I spell,
marked with your return, my dream enters.
When friends, on Sundays invite me to feast,
I see the river of our uprising morning,
You are in dim light, adorning my mist
to love me in the eternity of my soaring.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The bells
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
and i'm in love
the joy of love
the coming of
jesus
jesus
did you call my name
never ever felt afraid
did you hold onto
did you make it thru
you
there's so much doubt in every heart
for all our faults we carry on
jesus
jesus i ran away
i got so scared
i made mistakes
will i hold onto
will i make it thru
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Bells
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
and i'm in love
the joy of love
the coming of
jesus
jesus
did you call my name
never ever felt afraid
did you hold onto
did you make it thru
you
there's so much doubt in every heart
for all our faults we carry on
jesus
jesus i ran away
i got so scared
i made mistakes
will i hold onto
will i make it thru
ooh the bells are ringing out
what a sound
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sounds that should not be missed
Sound of blossom of a flower,
I desire to hear,
the sound of nature.
Sound of rain's glassy water drop,
over a roof's top,
the sound of joy.
Sound of beat of our heart,
through our ears caught,
the sound of wonder.
Sound of delicious supper in boil,
after a great day's toil,
the sound of hunger.
Sound of a mother's loving ballad,
hearing the cry of her toddler,
the sound of love! ! !
poem by Shyam Balaji
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See That My Grave Is Kept Clean
(first releaseblind lemon jefferson)
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one kind of favor Ill ask for you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.
And theres two white horses following me
And theres two white horses following me
I got two white horses following me
Waiting on my burying ground.
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Means another poor boy is underground.
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Means another poor boy is dead and gone.
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
Now I believe what the Bible told.
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
And theres one last favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
See that my grave is kept clean.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love, dyes and butterflies
my sisters stood in light
my brothers ate in peace
ancestors' paths descendants' plight
all merged into a single piece
of stream let music throbbing in my veins
of storms killing ores in iron fields of rust
of horizons split fire lit coloured that craved
a soothing sound a mother fertile ground
where each earthquake thrundered at oblivion rains
to name the nameless pain the pain that named
love, dyes and butterflies born of cry and praise
spreading their wings still making no sound
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.
quote by Henry Beston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fogging Up The Windows
the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray
the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Sounds of wedding bells
They waited sixteen long years
For the sounds of wedding bells
The wedding bells ring, dingdong, dingdong
The wedding bells sing, dingdong, dingdong
For all to hear strikingly clear
Hold your silence and wish them well
It is the sounds of wedding bells
This aged love birds have been waiting for
Once unofficial honeys
From this point declared official
In this matrimonial ceremony
I wish them well
Their braveness is my acknowledgement
Their enduring fight is my guiding light
Their victory will go down in history
Together they compliment and compliment
Each other like a perfect pair of fitting shoes
One way or another they already knew
Long before the sound of wedding bells
They would love each other till the very end
So listen to the sound of wedding bells
As they sing dingdong, dingdong
Perhaps for you it wouldn’t be long!
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Spring Night In The Imperial Chancellery
Evening falls on palace walls shaded by flowering trees, with cry of birds
flying past on their way to roost. The stars quiver as they look down on the
myriad doors of the palace, and the moon's light increases as she moves into
the ninefold sky. Unable to sleep, I seem to hear the sound of the bronze-clad
doors opening for the audience, or imagine the sound of bridle-bells bourne
upon the wind. Having a sealed memorial to submit at tomorrow's levee, I make
frequent inquiries about the progress of the night.