# December Challenge: "Bells"



## Chesters Daughter (Dec 1, 2018)

*AS PREVIOUSLY ANNOUNCED, IF YOU ENTER THE CHALLENGE, YOU MUST CAST AT LEAST ONE VOTE IN THE POLL. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN YOUR ENTRY BEING DISQUALIFIED.

*The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Darkkin is: *Bells

*You are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board. *Please note that all entries* *are eligible to receive critique in the voting thread.* 

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*
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This challenge will close on the 15th of December at 7pm EST.


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 2, 2018)

*and on the seventh day HE rested*

Roused
by a sonorous reminder
that Jesus is alive
and that the hour 
is exactly five.

I drag myself to the sill
to spy the sky
for yet another 
seventh day sunrise.

Blessed be those bells
easily heard on high.


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## J.J. Maxx (Dec 3, 2018)

*Battle's End*

The last of all the bodies peaceful slept.
  Awash in morning light the battle end.
  The ink still yet to forge in mournful pen,
The sorrows sacrificed for honor kept.

Awash the field the bitter wind that swept,
 And carry plumes of death of son and friend.
 Wary soldiers with malice now suspend
A birth anew with difficult accept.

A dulcet tone aloft the breeze did ring,
  The proclamation sings of life anew.
  The clearest bells of steeples framed with glass,
Flourish 'tween the trenches taking wing.

  The tolling bells arise in pitch and grew,
  A forging hymn to set in stone the past.


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## Phil Istine (Dec 3, 2018)

For Whom the Bell Tolls


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## Pelwrath (Dec 3, 2018)

*
Reverberations


*​Signal to begin
Means not to race but to stop
the mind relaxes


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## toddm (Dec 3, 2018)

*The Bells of Hebden Bridge*

The bells were ringing in the town;
the call came late; the moon shone bright
behind a thin and ragged cloud.
She fell asleep on her bed linens
strewn with pears and apples
gathered in the waning twilight; 
willows also, and marigolds.
The cotton-grass was shuddering;
her dreams were fragile and fierce. 
The fire was not forgotten; it was a secret
hidden in the hand. The fireflies of summer
were kept in jars through the winter months
until they became dust and ashes.
She was aloft beside a soaring cathedral;
the great bells were a cataclysm
of dissonant grandeur; the ravens 
melted into the shadow-painted sky.
Down along the narrow streets she purchased 
worthless trinkets, broken gears inside a broken man
trampled underfoot, dearly bought
but soon forgotten. _There are no words, _
she whispered in the damp air. 
The street was bright; the rain had settled into the stones;
the night was cold; the windows of her face
were shuttered with white hands. 
_Once upon a weary time, _said she.
The night believed whatever her heart spoke,
every beating word: the heartbeat footsteps,
the rattle of death-knells. The sky was painted black; 
the stricken moonlight could not pierce the clouds. 
She stirred and awakened on her bed linens.
The wind was in the mounding heather.
The small birds did not sing, they brought no joy, 
they flew away into the heart-broken holy stars.
But she was lost amid shadows and shambles,
and the bells were ringing no more.


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## Gumby (Dec 4, 2018)

*Belle*


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## jenthepen (Dec 8, 2018)

*                                        Diminished  *

 I was the one.
 I taught the cat to ring a bell for food.
It pleased me to hear that familiar clang  
 and know that he was waiting there.

 Eager to show
 the trick he had learned and performed so well,
 it pleased me to see the surprise in the eyes
 of friends and family watching there.

 Came the day
 I noticed an imposter in his place,
 a sleek similarity with claws as sharp,  
 a shadow version standing there.

 I was the one.
 I taught the cat to ring a bell for food.
 How easily we steal for amusement.
 How eagerly nobility yields to greed.


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## -xXx- (Dec 12, 2018)

hear, here


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## ned (Dec 15, 2018)

*Useless Muse*

.
Regarding bells, what is conjured?
This musing poet wondered.

Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse sleigh - I don‘t think so.

The tinkling collar of my cat?
Even the cat can do better than that!

The sound of wind-chimes when it blows
But I don’t know where it goes.

My favourite brand of whiskey
Mixed with poetry gets too risky!

Chapels calling the congregation
Smacks of a lack of imagination.

A ‘ding-dong’ at my door!
I’m sure I’ve heard that one before.

Wedding bells and blown confetti
Already thrown by Christina Georgina Rossetti.

Angels that sing in a sky of blue
As ideas go, that don’t ring true.

For whom it tolls, the end of time.
Too sorrowful to really chime.

So though I trawl from heaven to hell
Nothing seems to ring a bell.

A useless muse that remains defiant.
For this poet - the bells are silent.


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 15, 2018)

This challenge is now closed.


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