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Showing posts from July, 2019

The bell ringers

It rings a bell the campanologists are competing Although at this stage I don't know this Their sonority has yet to reach my timpanis membrane As I negotiate the mini roundabout on foot At the heart valve of the village Having sat the last hundred yards in silence After rebuking my wife For almost taking a wrong turning. It's all about the particulars see. You are to be found around the back of the Sussex Oak And suddenly the bells clang into focus The air is jubilant and expectant. Although I sense this is a rehearsal It isn't for the campanologists. Life is not a rehearsal they chime. Each pull is a meaningful yank (hear a clang across the pond) on the placenta of heaven's womb One false move and blood will rain. but until then here is a medley of events From the radiant to the apocalyptic Through the funereal via the every-day come hither cycle of the Sunday service. We sit supping our pints in a session And you roll an ex-smoker a fat one tha