Patti Masterman

The Damn Bell Sans Merci - Poem by Patti Masterman

What can ail the coming dawn
Although there is no loitering;
The button on the clock has broke-
There's way too many birds singing.
Oh what can ail the sleeper,
Eyes shadowed: night is done,
The squirrels are brisk and bushy-tailed;
Most glad, to see the sun.
I see new wrinkles on your brow,
Your sweat has broken, fever'd too
With reddened cheeks, the morning light
Does there, eschew.
I met a salesman in the woods
Selling things, with tone so mild;
I wish I had not bought his goods:
They are my trial.
I placed the clock upon the bed,
An it were better than a phone,
To wake me, from the Stygian deeps;
My chronic lateness, to atone.
I set the clock where I could see
And eagerly await its song,
I knew come morn, the dawn would break-
By it, ere long..
I lost myself in Viking tales,
And dined on wild radish, and rue,
Certain that sweet vibes would wake,
At mornings cue.
I took me to my cushy sheets,
And sunk myself in sleep, full-bore
And then I took my nightly draught-
A fool, times four!
And then I slept (quite all alone)
With the clock, close by my side,
And dreamed of things you could not know
In dreams, abide.
And dreamed the clock went off as I
Ran off down the longest hall;
The damn bell sans merci-
My ears, it did maul!
Then I woke to the loudest ring
That my ear-drums, did debride;
The button on the darn thing broke-
And fell inside.
And that is why I sleep out here,
Breaking rules, by loitering;
The button on the clock has broke-
There's far too many birds singing.

Comments about The Damn Bell Sans Merci by Patti Masterman

  • Valerie Dohren (4/14/2012 2:10:00 PM)

    Can there ever be too many birds singing - love the little things - but maybe not at 5 am. God poem, nicely rhymed. (Report) Reply

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  • Diane Hine (4/13/2012 6:24:00 PM)

    Very entertaining!
    I'm sure Keats would be singing in praise right along with the birds!
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 13, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, April 13, 2012

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