silent bells

Silent Bells

Sighs for silent

silver, silent

Dads. They are the pin-striped:

the silent white stripes

in the jerseys that are

all cotton and keep

us almost warm.

Sigh. Bless us. We

cannot take them with

us. They stay at home

to protect us when they or

we are gone. They are our

most protected treasures:

those who are where we

cannot take them with us…

Silent Bells

I wrote this poem for my blog readers who make me feel good about my work.

Eileen Lewis-Lurin

March 18, 2013




but i am on my own

to the individual who wrote to me in French.
I have forgotten all the French that Mme. Rodgers taught me, but i would like to say to your comment:
merci beaucoup.
S’amusez vous.

bui i am on my own

this is a poem about a book called A Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes.
Tony Watson is the narrator of the book. tony is filled with remorse because he sent a hurtful letter to his best friends.

But i am on my own

Why do I want sweet love from everyone

like the narrator of

A Sense of an Ending? I see remorse,

flash anger from another

time, place.


God’s face is turned away from from

Even Moses’s radiance.

The dictatorship of god is complete.

No wavering allowed, aloud, for place or time.


Like bare-faced Tony Webster, the narrator,

like George Herbert, the supplicant, the poet to God,

i want to be “peaceable.” I want god’s slim love.

But i am on my own to

“turn remorse into simple guilt.”


Eileen Lewis-Lurin