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Open Poetry #38
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Joyce Johnson
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Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State

0 posted 2006-07-16 06:49 PM


The Bell

It's displayed upon my mantel
This relic from the past;
The bell, when rung by her sick child
Would bring our mamma fast.

Thought the gilt has worn away a bit
It still rings the same tone
That brought me to the bedside
Of a sick child of my own.

Perhaps it cost a nickel
That bell when it was new;
But now no sum could buy it
With its memories so true.

If that small bell brings comfort
To a grandchild, when I'm gone,
I will pass it on most gladly.
Mamma's legacy lives on.

By: Joyce 7/16/06

© Copyright 2006 Joyce I Johnson - All Rights Reserved
divine chaos
Senior Member
since 2006-07-09
Posts 617
dancing 'neath the moon
1 posted 2006-07-16 07:29 PM


what wonderful memories *smiles*  it's lovely to read them, since i don't have any like that of my own .. my mom rarely even believed I was sick lol .. I told her years ago that I want my gravestone to say "I TOLD you I was sick!"  

you have the best memories, Joyce, always bring a bit of a smile or a tug on my heart .. thank you

~*Sheli*~

By words the mind is winged
~Aristophanes~

Joyce Johnson
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State
2 posted 2006-07-16 07:39 PM


Thank you Sheli.  Oh my mamma loved us most when we were sick and needed her.  I had pneumonia when I was nine and I can still feel her cool hands on my forehead.  Love, Joyce
TinaTrivett
Senior Member
since 2006-07-15
Posts 569

3 posted 2006-07-16 08:04 PM


What a nice piece. I too have the bell my kids used to call me when they were small.

You are such a sentimental writer.

The Lady
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634
The Southwest
4 posted 2006-07-16 09:49 PM




A beautiful story, Joyce, so sweetly told. I am envious of the way you rhyme.


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