Church bells chime
I find myself cringing from the sound
The echoes of unkind memories.
Uneasiness creeps under my cool skin
Close the windows
Close my eyes.
Is it a sin? To loathe the din
of those bloody bells.
Church bells chime
I pen a rhyme
Perhaps they remind me I will soon be out of time
They remind me of my fight
To visit the house of Christ
Yet I never do.
While I write the next line
The sound has ceased
Except in my mind
It carries on its beat
A concept that won't leave me
And still they chime
I cringe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
were you a young mistress of the manor or the charwoman's daughter? a fine poem out of fright. true? or a fantastic imagination? but it MUST be true! i read the Poet's Note, for which i thank you. bri :) to MyPoemList perhaps your childhood has driven you to help children in your adulthood. :) but was it just the drums et al which bothered you as a child?