The Bells That Warn
The bells rang out
the floods are here
run run for your life
water rises on the steps
the market square is lost
stone lions sink beneath the tide
their mouths full of silence
doors burst open
chairs float past
a man shouts as the river takes him
his cap spins once and is gone
children cling to their mothers arms
dogs bark against the roar
a cart tips over
apples roll in the black flood
bright skins swallowed in the swirl
the church drowns in its own song
the choir never finished the hymn
candles hiss and vanish
stained glass shatters under waves
saints drift face down in the current
the bridge cracks like bone
iron rails bend and break
those who ran too late
clutch at ropes that slip from their hands
the bells keep ringing
not to warn
only to echo the end
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
I love how the bells transform from a warning into an echo of finality.
Wow, very 'real', thankyou for sharing xx