Bells
Bells
We hung bells over your changing table, strung
on a thick silken cord–
A tinkle above your tinkle, as it were, or,
whatever–
For purposes of this piece, it is helpful to understand that the refuse of a little nursed baby often spouts as green as Spring, a new digestive system its own
kind of April.
My fingers were quick
change artists,
but your father’s whole body was sometimes drawn
into gear.
I remember his once clanging those bells full throttle, trying to quell
your wails. He was stripped
to the waist, his other hand keeping
you safe-
father-daughter bonding–still,
you were alarmed–maybe by
his matador’s dodge, the cape
of fleeing shirt tail, or maybe it was just
the green in you coming
to the fore–
The bells were not for babies–
brass. Probably we should not have hung them
over your head–
still, their weight, their
realness, was also
what made them work (usually)–their rings
more resonant than coo, conjuring
baby awe–
but that day’s jangle of wail
and bell
was like two rivers meeting, a confluence
of conflicting flows, clear and
muddy; eddying sweetness
and screech==
I know now
there is no joy
completely pure, and all joy also
just that–
what is mitigated also
unmitigated–
Maybe this is why
bells can’t seem to knell
without some swell of cry
that also cups sky
while children’s cries ring out–
while children’s laughter
peals–
*************************
A draft poem for my own prompt on Real Toads, about John Donne, and his beautiful lines about bells and connection. This one more a story than poem, but there it is! Thanks all.
ps-the conjoined pics, such as they are, are mine. They were much bluer when made!
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: baby awe poem, bells over changing table poem, bells poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, not really about diapers poem
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ManicDDaily 
May 16, 2015 at 11:25 pm
I loved this so much, the memories, the bells….and especially your closing stanza….the “cry that also cups sky” especially.
May 16, 2015 at 11:56 pm
Am liking this, K. Been there too, done that. Our first kids were twins, born to a teen-age mom. We had a lot of learning to do. Dr. Spock new it all, that helped.
The string of bells remind me of my string of camel bells. I guess I got them in Egypt, it’s been too long ago for me to remember good. Jordan?
..
May 17, 2015 at 1:35 am
Mmm, it works up to a lovely ending, there. 🙂
May 17, 2015 at 1:50 am
The bells – what memory it carries. I remember me and my sister had a bell tied so our parents could find us when we where playing at our country house. The property was large enough for us to get lost, but no fence was needed with a bell with you.
Love your memory here, particularly when the bell didn’t work.
May 17, 2015 at 5:57 am
Loved the bells and the memories that you associated to them 😀
Beautifully penned..!
Lots of love
Sanaa
May 17, 2015 at 6:09 am
lovely memories, luv the flow of conversational thoughts shared
have a nice Sunday
much love…
May 17, 2015 at 6:32 am
Yes, story of a moment in a life, but also a poem of the essence of life, and joy and connection, however mitigated by the brass bells of reality jangling throughout. The language in the last stanza has its own bell-like tones, and the marriage of bell and sky, joy and cry, seems very Donne-ish to me.
May 17, 2015 at 6:34 am
Thanks. I may think about writing more of a poem today! Sometimes I have to get these things out of my system! K.
May 17, 2015 at 7:19 am
I find it heart-warming tho think the sound of bells will always bring to mind a person – a baby’s cry, even if bells were intended to drown out the insistent clamour.
I know now
there is no joy
completely pure, and all joy also
just that–
what is mitigated also
unmitigated–
Such worldly wisdom here.
May 17, 2015 at 9:14 am
Thanks, Kerry. k.
On Sun, May 17, 2015 at 8:19 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:
>
May 17, 2015 at 7:25 am
This is just wonderful. The comparisons (who woulda thunk) and the beautiful memories. I like the way your mind works.
May 17, 2015 at 9:13 am
Thanks, Debi. k.
On Sun, May 17, 2015 at 8:25 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:
>
May 17, 2015 at 9:13 am
” . . . but that day’s jangle of wail
and bell
was like two rivers meeting, a confluence
of conflicting flows, clear and
muddy; eddying sweetness
and screech== ‘
How I love bells as river, child sound as bell, all possible meetings in a great great sound! Should you not have hung them there? Not seen the confluence? Not understood the place of a baby’s cry? I kept waiting for them to fall and her to be harmed, but instead the sky opened! Wow!
May 17, 2015 at 9:21 am
Ha. They never fell! I’m just saying that in today’s world it would probably have been thought to be careless parenting. Susan, I have trouble accessing your blog sometimes — not sure why. SettjngS? K.
May 19, 2015 at 12:00 pm
I’ll check.
May 17, 2015 at 11:06 am
Love this, especially:
“without some swell of cry
that also cups sky”
May 17, 2015 at 2:49 pm
I remember going as a child to see the great bells at the cathedral and how so close to them, they were so loud that they lost their allure a bit…from a distance they were beautiful. I would not have thought of brass bells for kids but it could be just the different thing to shake them out. Ha. The bells can be quite moving. Especially for what they symbolize. or can.
May 17, 2015 at 3:40 pm
Hey–yes, they certainly can be. Thanks. k.
On Sun, May 17, 2015 at 3:49 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:
>
May 17, 2015 at 5:20 pm
a lovely idea to hang the bells above the changing table ~ not the most favorite time for most babies.
great write and great prompt, Karin!
♥
May 17, 2015 at 7:46 pm
This is a priceless way to describe that nature’s wonder: “the refuse of a little nursed baby often spouts as green as Spring, a new digestive system its own
kind of April.” 🙂
May 17, 2015 at 8:53 pm
Ha. Thanks. k.
May 17, 2015 at 10:36 pm
but that day’s jangle of wail
and bell
was like two rivers meeting, a confluence
of conflicting flows, clear and
muddy; eddying sweetness
and screech==
The sounds in this reverberate. Wonderful poem.
May 21, 2015 at 1:53 pm
I love the contrasts you built into this poem, K.
May 26, 2015 at 12:12 am
a beautiful joining, K ~