October corn the hue of the tumbleweeds
that choked my sister's desert fence,
rustles and bows to the toll of the bell.
But the one who pulled the rope
and filled the plates fills only dreams
and the bell lies on the cellar grate.
I wrote this poem (a Quadrille) for dVerse, the poets pub. Quadrille are poems in 44 words. This week's prompt, which is to take the meaning of one word and transform it into 44, is BELL.
Here in Michigan, we saw snow yesterday, and with the corn still standing outside my window and my dad's dinner bell (and his dad's before) still erect and majestic in my mind's eye, I composed my bell poem. Thanks for reading. Visit dVerse for more poems about bells. There are more meanings than I had realized, jarring forgotten memory.
15 comments:
the late fall setting gives added poignancy to the missing bellringer
Thank you Laura.
Autumn brings in a harvest of memories, doesn't it? The bell rings true and clear with memory through your words.
Hi Cousin (did we decide on that?). I liked your song of the Gong Dinner Bell, it lying on the floor now. I also lived on a farm, in Nebraska, we were poor and didn't even have a bell. I knew the little bells one sews onto something, may a belt, and the one the schoolteacher had on her desk or the ones on top of some school roofs. I husked a little corn before the corn picker was invented but most was when I was younger and riding in a trailer behind Mom and Dad's horse drawn grain wagon.
..
Nice one Yvonne.
Thanks for dropping by my blog.
Much❤love
So evocative! The corn and the echo in memory of the bell.
I really like the nature, the nostalgia, and the reflection found here. So much said in just a few words. Very cool that bell carries on through the generations.
Dora,
Thank you so much. Yes, autumn is a harvest in more ways than one.
Jim,
Cousins for sure! Bells on roofs - schools and churches both. My grandpa loved his team of horses. Mother often talked about the time he forlornly watched a trailer take them away after he got a tractor. Thanks!
Gillena,
You're welcome and thank you for the same.
Merril,
Thanks for chiming in!!
I enjoyed the scenario of the ghostly dinner bell, Yvonne. I’ve seen them in stately homes I’ve visited, but the only thing that has ever called me to dinner was a gong in a guest house. I love the opening of your poem, the description of October corn is evocative, and I can imagine it whispering and dancing. The image of the bell lying on the cellar grate is poignant.
I feel that the loss of the ringer echoes in your poem... so fitting for the season.
Lili,
Thanks. Yes, I rather wish I still had that bell or that at the very least it could still call someone to dinner.
Kim,
Thank you so much.
Brudberg,
Thanks, yes, the corn is very dry and the wind rustling through it makes a haunting sound.
Love the image of the bell lying on the cellar grate.
Purplepen,
Thanks! Glad it resonated with you.
Poignant and evocative, Yvonne.
Paeansun,
Hi! And thank you very much.
Post a Comment