KNELL:Oxford Dictionary


Line breaks: knell


Definition of knell in English:



1The sound of a bell, especially when rung solemnly for a death or funeral.

1.1Used in reference to an announcement, event, or sound that warns of the end of something:emails and text messages are sounding the knell for the written word


1(Of a bell) ring solemnly, especially for a death or funeral.
1.1[WITH OBJECT] Proclaim (something) by or as if by a knell.


Old English cnyll (noun), cnyllan (verb), of West Germanic origin; related to Dutch knal (noun),knallen (verb) ‘bang, pop, crack’. The current spelling (dating from the 16th century) is perhaps influenced by bell1.

Words that rhyme with knell

Adele, Aix-la-Chapelle, aquarelle, artel, au naturel, bagatelle, béchamel, befell, bell, belle, boatel, Brunel, Cadell, carousel, cartel, cell, Chanel, chanterelle, clientele, Clonmel, compel, Cornell, crime passionnel, dell, demoiselle, dispel, dwell, el, ell, Estelle, excel, expel, farewell, fell, Fidel, fontanelle, foretell, Gabrielle, gazelle, gel, Giselle, hell, hotel, impel, lapel, mademoiselle, maître d’hôtel, Manuel, marcel, matériel, mesdemoiselles, Michel, Michelle, Miguel, misspell, morel, moschatel, Moselle, motel, muscatel, nacelle, Nell, Nobel, Noel, organelle, outsell, Parnell, pell-mell, personnel, propel, quell, quenelle, rappel, Raquel, Ravel, rebel, repel, Rochelle, Sahel, sardelle, sell, shell, show-and-tell, smell, Snell, spell, spinel, swell, tell, undersell, vielle, villanelle, well, yell

Definition of knell in:

Empty diary,like sea shell

{Imagine the tune of Allelluia sung  by Leonard Cohen]



As I walk through the kitchen door

I see your hanky on the floor

Your diary that’s almost bare

The man I loved is  never there

i’m grieving.


A diary with just one date

We didn’t know it was so late

Here are scarf and gloves and pen

My eyes are  widening with the pain

I’m grieving.


Red address book,took a look

Your friends’ names, like little hooks

Invitations to the rites,

Suffering faces  in twilight

I’m grieving.


They turned to go,they walked away

Now alone,how can I pray?

Who has gone and who can tell?

What shall ring for his death knell?

I’m grieving

My sister and my hair and my vanity or humiliation



My sister and I had a lot to talk about but when she got home she rang  sounding  mor animated to say she and her daughter in law loved my new hairstyle.Unfortunately the main difference is that it is shorter at the back  and longer on top and in front which does not show in a photograph.When we had major things ro discuss it’s good  they could think about my hair!I had been about to buy a wig.To satisfy my family who may be reading I shall take a selfie of the back of my head later on




tiff infomation
tiff infomation


Myself  someyears ago,carefully hiding my hair which stopped growing owing to underactive thyroid gland.,Unfortunately after treatment I became  extravagent.So if your wife’s habits alter it may not be lack of will power it may be her glands…even my glasses were more upmarket.Lord knows why when I have not been able to have a social life and my cat does not mind what I look like.My husband did like me in bright colours.Sometimes I even wore clothes.

I think I hear you humming.


I look up our small street,
To see if you are coming.
I don’t know what time it is,
But I think I hear you humming.

You sang sweet songs for us,
And you could whistle well .
You wore an old tweed jacket
You loved us,I could tell.

I look out there each day,
But I can’t see your tall, thin shape.
I saved your Woodbine packet,
It made me feel some hope.

What does death’s door mean?
Where has Daddy gone?
When will be the welcome day,
When we hear his songs again?

I’ll sing like him all day,
I’ll dream of him all night.
I hope he won’t be angry,
If his cigarettes won’t light!

He can’t write his own songs now.
He went too far away , too soon.
I’ll write down what I think he sang,
And I’ll invent the tune.

I hear him singing now,
He dwells inside my heart.
And though I still can’t see his face,
I recognise his Art.

The newest words in verse.


I once was the  main cynosure

Of eccentrics who write and endure

both mockery and fame

when one mentions their name

But lately I’ve found my own cure.


Elusive I move through lightwaves

Pellucid till I’m in the grave.

Never abscond

From where you belong

With Plato stuck in a  dark cave.


Perambulate, if you desire.

People are flesh,not barbed wire.

Walk up and down

Around London town

Wear a  T shirt saying.I’m not for hire.

Cats praying
Cats praying

Do you like eyes pellucid and blue?

Complexions of a peach and cream hue?

Well be less demanding

In your search never ending

For women are particular too