Bells
Celestial black is the spaces between stars, and
abandoned belltower black is when wild bells go to seed.
Stale air is pregnant with the drone of potential chiming;
the slightest wind on the lawn rings an ear-filling cacophony
changing like a river's surface, bellowing like a woman in want.
None composed this melody, this loud kind of black.
2 comments:
I think you did a really great job on this. The last line is very powerful. Giving a color a noise really makes it pop at the reader. All of the noise words (chiming, rings, bellowing, etc.) work well and I actually can hear them in my head while reading the poem.
I like the words and the feeling this poem gives off. It is a strong poem good revision.
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