Sunday, September 14, 2014

Regular Melancholy

There must be something
other than ringtones.
I need freedom with a heavy clapper.
The steeple in my road is silent.
You show me a cathedral with a crown,
tell me about the chimes.
A flat, E flat, A flat, C.  Ascending.
I find the notes on the piano,
imagine the clang of hours.  A clock,
not yet time.  Pick my thumbnail
like a dewclaw.  Crave
a farm bell, a cowbell.  Anything
but this incessant death knell. 

tk/September 2014 

Another elegant read by the dashing R.A.D. Stainforth... 


  1. Great wordplay here ... love, love, love it.

  2. There is nothing 'regular' about this Regular is exquisite....and the 'clang of hours' reverberates through your word bell, cowbell...death knell.

  3. Send not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for all of us...

  4. A bit of country life might just be the tonic for you, young Virginia , i think that the city is far too enervating , and you should leave at once.......

  5. This is simply beautiful and Mr. Stainforth's finest 'performance' (in my humble opinion) ever!

  6. amazing poem read by the amazing Mr echos ....

  7. I am rendered to stillness; this is gorgeous.

  8. every considered word is brilliant..x

  9. I loved the title. What followed was beautifully crafted.

  10. loved how you added the piano notes in between. Beautiful expressions.

  11. I love farms and you reminded me of them. I like the dewclaw. Great write and Spoken Word Tess! <3

  12. We all need something have nailed that Tess.....lovely as always!

  13. Oh..another surprise. The sense of sounds entering the picture. Why else would you have your head stuck out of the window?

  14. This is a fine poem. I don't say that often, but todayI have read several fine poems. Also, I really loved the reading!

    I am still writing at Noh Where (or I will be soon I hope). But I am also using Blogger for photography at: mydowntownblog here:

    Please come by and see me. Thanks, Liz


Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)