The Bells of Now, the Bells of Now, So What?

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The days with spice and gold in them, the ones

That everyone thinks wonderful, are not

Exciting any more.  Their rising suns

And setting suns are no more warm nor hot

Than ordinary days but come and go,

Just come and go.  These special days ring in,

Ring out with special bells of brass but no

Impressions enter.  Bells like these are din

Like noise of ordinary streets.  The bells

Of temples and cathedrals are muffed noise

To older ears.  No happy Easter spells

Are cast.  There are no glistening Christmas joys.

  The old reside inside their memories held

    Away from bells of tinsel now—but swelled.

Microsoft Bing repeatedly failed to generate the image I asked for, mucking up the generated image in various ways.  I have pasted in the final ruined image because I think the fuzziness that Bing’s AI generated in its latest image is maybe related to the fuzziness in some old people’s minds.  I did not ask for that fuzziness, but Bing’s AI imposed it.  ha Ha AH Then Grok failed to remove the fogginess, so I just cropped it out.  Here is my cropped image.