Rings a Bell
by Kathleen Wilson
I hear your voice
talking about linoleum
it's the floor that said it
I remember lilting into the lush
green in the living
rose in the dining
I hear you chewing what I made
and your eyes choosing
it's what your mouth
is not doing
and where your eyes aren't
that I see
you're still here
at this table writing
while I'm enjoying
you're staring at your delicious name
made out of cookies
while the stone face
from my beach
turns into someone
you used to know
I feel my head in my arms
where words are sleeping
it's your voice
that makes me
(ring small deep sounding bell here)
Author's Note: Published in "The Leaugue of Laboring Poets" Vol. 2 issue 3, Summer, 2008.
Posted on 10/26/2007
Copyright © 2018 Kathleen Wilson
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/26/07 at 10:07 PM|
...kathleen, it's theatre, gal! off-broadway, but it would be a one act play in dallas' own chicken dog theatre...ultra minimistic...i love the tete a tete whether the two [you and don decide] people are there or one is yo' head, delightful write and read...keen message, heavy...peace, chaz
|Posted by Paganini Jones on 10/26/07 at 10:37 PM|
One rich textured creation. I read it as one mid, twolayers of thought. And I really, really LIKE this. Your current poetry id changing I think, into a maturer voice. I can't wait to see what flows from your pen next.
|Posted by Sarah Graves on 10/27/07 at 07:02 AM|
Amazing. I like how you bring the reader into your point of view, visually and emotionally. It's often what the person we are observing doesn't see about themselves that others can see right away. I enjoyed the feeling of duality, inadvertent in some ways. I found the ending interesting because it seems to act as a silent, last measure in your observation. I read this several ways, and I am still intrigued. Thanks for sharing =)
|Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/01/07 at 06:14 PM|
A ring a ding good poem Kath...Charlie
|Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 11/02/07 at 12:00 AM|
This is so enjoyable! Wish my name were made of cookies.....chocolate chip, me thinks! Thanks. Excellent write.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/02/07 at 03:58 PM|
This is so delicately intimate to read the interaction between you two. I love the linoleum beginning, grounding yet vividly colored and distinctive. I can feel the simple pleasure of sharing special moments here.
|Posted by Ken Harnisch on 11/05/07 at 12:56 PM|
Supple, subtle, this!...it rang my chimes.
|Posted by A. Paige White on 11/06/07 at 07:21 PM|
Once again, you've captivated me. This is so inspiring... it begs my far eyed glassy gaze while my inner listening a dial of frequency as seldom captured as say.... cartwheels... though my children all but begged me to give it a shot just a couple of days ago. I guess I should have. Love how your poetry makes me glassy eyed from gazing at a horizon I should traverse in small vertical circles, lol. Love it!
|Posted by Paul Lastovica on 01/18/11 at 03:23 AM|
three years and someodd months later i make my way to this poem - your words reaching out in the present from days long past. Awake and dreaming, that's how I always read you; somewhere between the real and the dream - between Texas and California.