poem

Ring Out, Wild Bells (Tennyson)

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“Ring Out, Wild Bells”
(1850) by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

The Pineapple Dilemma – A Poem

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Santa Clara County, CA  (day 114 of mostly stay at home)

The Pineapple Dilemma

That
mysterious masked stranger
six feet ahead of me
in the grocery check out line
has those blue puppy dog eyes
some women
like me
could fall for
and
I’d start a conversation with him
except for the pineapple
flown  in from Hawaii
prominently displayed in his basket.
Ordinarily
the perfect time
for a discussion on carbon footprints.
Luckily
his girlfriend appears
saving me from yet another lock-down decision.

Ellespeth

Free Association’s Path – A Poem

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We do not need a president ripping open already raw healing wounds and leading us to one side or the other. Well I don’t know about you but I sure as hell don’t need it.

Right now
I just want a Sugar Daddy
to tell me

there, there Baby
everything’s gonna be alright

and I wanna be lost
in some space and time
where I still believed
that could ever be true.

Ellespeth

When I Talk About Home – A Poem

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When I Talk About Home

I know

I can’t  describe
the way a 4PM rain smells
at 5PM
when it’s a steam bath
walking home.

Or explain
why
I
rushed to a stage 3 times
to throw my bandana
to Willie Nelson
and how normal that felt.

Or paint for you
fully enough
or write a poesy perfect enough
about how the swamp
from a plane high above
brings salty tears
to the memories in my heart.

I know.

Ellespeth

To the Thawing Wind

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My favorite catalogue arrived in the mail today.  This beautiful poem was printed on the inside cover.  Ohh!!  Yes!!!

Ellespeth  ♥

Robert Frost

TO THE THAWING WIND

Robert Frost

    Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

That Time – A Poem

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That Time

I was trying to remember
that time
Santa left me a dollie
and the box had a dent
and my dad said
Rudolph had stepped on it
and how special I felt.
Going back.
Like rewinding old home movies,
faster and more comical.
So much can be missed.
It’s hardly worth remembering
that time
Santa left me a dollie
packaged in a box
Rudolph had stepped upon.

Ellespeth