Bells that don't ring, throw down the pail--By Daniel Turner--United States

Bells that don't ring, throw down the pail

When mining thoughts, how deafening the ring

We search the walls of silence for a vein

A golden verse to strum on soft heart strings

To touch someone and stake a poet's claim

We chip away, in rubble, as we pick

It falls as wads of paper on the floor

When suddenly a glowing candlewick

We've struck the mother lode of metaphors

And as the liquid gold flows through the pen

In words of love and matters of the heart

The muse begins to tingle deep within

While he assays the worth of this new art

These nuggets that we find could be for sale

If bells are ringing, don't throw down the pail.

Daniel Turner is 60 years old and lives in Arkansas. He has been writing poetry for approximately 40 years. He loves animals and all things having to do with nature. Now retired, he has traveled over 3 million miles as a long-haul truck driver, worked in the oil fields of Texas and on the Mississippi River on a tow boat. He loves to read and watch old black and white movies.