The Sunday Chimes by John D Robinson

It was a Sunday and
the church bells were
calling and reminding
the faithful
it was time,
I was outside, crouched
down in the porch having
a smoke
and inside I
listened as my wife
and our
two grandchildren sang
songs and
at the end of
each verse they cheered and
clapped and it was
a Sunday
and church bells cried and
I listened to Carmelina
and
Grace and Ava
and felt a warmth, an
enchantment and heard
the echoes
of tenderness,
of natural human
love
and sentimentality;
nothing like
you’d  ever hear
in a church sermon
no matter
how much
you put in
the collection box.

john robinson

John D Robinson was born UK in 1963; began writing poetry aged 16, 1st poem published a year later; over the years many of his poems have appeared in the small presses; of recent, his work has appeared in Bareback Lit; Red Fez; The Kitchen Poet; Dead Snakes.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s