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
Grace and Ava
and felt a warmth, an
enchantment and heard
the echoes
of tenderness,
of natural human
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.


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