Quotes about chime, page 21
Decades
By this time
She will be awake
As her clock would always chime
Missing breakfast that I make
She'll be crying
By this time
She unlocks the door
Sees my goodbye note in rhyme
And she throws it on the floor
She'll be crying
By this time
She walks by the well
Where we used to throw some dime
Wishing what we would not tell
She'll be crying
By this time
She waters the rose
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poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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To Thomas Woolner
First Snow, February
WOOLNER, to-night it snows for the first time.
Our feet know well the path where in this snow
Mine leave one track: how all the ways we know
Are hoary in the long-unwonted rime!
Grey as their ghosts which now in your new clime
Must haunt you while those singing spirits reap
All night the field of hospitable sleep—
Whose song, past the whole sea, finds counter-chime.
Can the year change, and I not think of thee,
With whom so many changes of the year
So many years were watched—our love's degree
Alone the same? Ah still for thee and me,
Winter or summer, Woolner, here or there,
One grief, one joy, one loss, one victory.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet: Let Goodness Always Prevail
The mammoth trees are cut for timber's sake;
Large trees along the roads are felled as well;
The smaller ones in wild now grow and swell;
Then clouds to pour the rain, how can God make!
When virtues aren't nurtured in life sometime,
Then vices grow with vengeance in man's heart;
When bells of praise and hymns to God don't chime,
Blessings and grace from heaven can't depart.
When man's good deeds are stopped for reasons much,
His sins grow from a mole to mountain size;
How can the Maker's favours ever touch,
As sins abound and soul afills with vice?
For God to bless, our righteousness must grow,
And seeds of virtues, good deeds, one must sow!
poem by John Celes
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Where Art Thou?
My love where art thou?
Buried in the heart of dead souls grave
In the burdened face, in the sagging brow
Burnt to ashes for evil to deprave—
My love where art thou?
Hidden beneath the voice of beauty
Dangling in the wind like chime
In the sonnets of one's love poetry
Surviving the cruelty of cruel time—
My Love where art thou?
Painted on Christ's prayer his somber plea
In the whine of a my sweet child
Shining bright on the fiery star of the sea
Nourishing the cubs in the earth's natural wild
My love where art thou?
Thou art certainly not in me
With me, my love thou wilt never be
Love everywhere in perfect harmony
Except me, with no love, my life's destiny….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Candy Mints and Inducements
They took her to the Edge of Forever
and she looked into Love's Face.
They had her dine with The Verities;
she was feted with Wisdom Words
and Diamond Things,
which gathered Light unto them
outshining the Stars.
A carpet was laid down
for her to walk upon,
and yoga-style
she could fly
the Galaxies
if she wanted to;
listen to Moons' shine;
hear Saturn's Rings chime,
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Art of Wind
Whether strong, whether sway
Whether irritating, whether couraging
Stormy nights or flash of breeze
Wind goes wherever blows
Whether naughty, whether chill
Whether sudden, whether still
In the leap of joy, in the darkest hour
Wind blows where we can’t follow
The heart pressure, the air emotion
The drift of change, the surging twist
The wing of song, the road of scent
Wind follows whatever goes
Can be seen but uncertain feeling
Can be caught but hard to hold
One breath to caress, one breath to break
Wind is the mischief actor
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poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
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poem by William Ernest Henley
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Villanelle
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
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poem by William Ernest Henley
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An Ode to Halloween
I am new to writing poems and I hope I can learn from all of you.
By the way, I learned how to write this kind of poem because of
An Ode to Christmas. Thank you very much!
An Ode to Halloween
When you see a child
In a costume scary and wild
You know it is Halloween.
When kids go trick-or-treats
And get lots and lots of sweets
You know it is Halloween.
When the trees give up their yellow leaves
And the dead give back their R.I.P.s
You know it is Halloween.
An Ode to scrumptious snacks
An Ode to skeletons that clack
An Ode to Dracula
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poem by Andy Jin
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Dungeons
Sight blinded, I no longer wonder.
Mythology beast from fin air transmuted.
Florentine columns, dress in night vest
Shut up on the dungeons' palace view.
Angels hanging Achilles' heel in the vacant air.
Fly murmurs eyes, on the spider web.
Canteen walls of corked smell.
Like guards shape- my head escape.
Prisoner Reflections of queens with a dark shadow face.
The bells chime mute tower.
My heart tremble, My breath humble
Another vision of shameful armor.
Iron ivy adorns the entrance gate,
Silly hats, call the people, wear.
Behind the bars...
The king rats, salute from the chink of the wall.
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poem by Luca Menin
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