Posts Tagged ‘Drum’

Like So

Posted: May 3, 2003 in Poetry
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Like so, breathed from a flute
Or struck from a drum
To hang in the air
And move slow or fast
Pitches as timbre would have it.
Sounded, whelmed, evoked
From skin or wood or brass
Shivers of torchlight drawn nigh by beat
Early evening mists rising
Called forth by the horns of hunters.
Resonation of hearts and minds
Against the thin foil of the ear’s membrane
One, then two, then a cascade
Of arpeggiating candle flames
Coax memories from elsewhere,
Common Akashic visions of yore.
Each strain frozen to fade,
Depicting the potential of now,
Then gone but for the susurrus of reverb
And that, too, away, replaced
By the next clear bells in the scheme
Or sawed bow over fraying, well-worn strings,
A clickety-clack of time on sticks,
The meter of midnight rain
Wet the senses then dries
With the voicelike sound of the rising sun.
Submarine bubbles sign seaward
The motion of all things growing up,
Roots digging deeper.
Life makes a cacophony of sound
But you can hear the symphony of always
And the contributing part you play.

Wasn’t I just here
Dragging the hose to the top of this hill
When Mom wasn’t looking, on the phone
Eroding the soil to catch it
At the bottom with a friend, shovels, and a dam
Before it floods my parent’s bedroom?
Wasn’t I just here, throwing a party
Snapped sprinkler heads and underage drinking?
Wasn’t I just here planting this sapling
That towers above me – does she remember
Me saving her from my chores of cleanup?
Wasn’t I just here, parking the Monte Carlo
One tire up on the curb
And staggering into the house on drugs?
Wasn’t I just on my way to the Nickels
To fuck around with high school experiments:
How much Jim Beam can I drink
Before I drown or forget whose breasts I am holding?
Wasn’t I just around the corner
Cursing up a storm just to roll those words?
Wasn’t I drinking Cisco just the other night
And shooting pool with the MH Posse?
I thought I was just down at Nobes
Throwing stolen pallets off the cliff
And leaping through the fire with my Mickeys.
Could have sworn I was just at Nati’s
While my parents told our favorite waitress
That they were so proud of Kyle and I.
Wasn’t I the one who broke Mom’s last wind chime,
And threw my Dad against the breezeway wall
When he tried to stop me from running away again?
Didn’t I just lie to Dad about
Doing all my chores but I didn’t coil the hose?
Wasn’t that just me and Gary
Doing stupid hazardous tricks of that stolen launch ramp?
Wasn’t that me the other day
Looking down from the top of the pine tree
At my hysterical mother telling me to come down
And powerless to do anything about it?
Didn’t I just steal my first Penthouse
From the neighbor’s garage
And see Venus, Venus, Venus
In three color pictorals?
Don’t I get my $5 allowance now, Dad?
I want to go buy Lemonheads at Delta Drug.
Didn’t I just have those army men
And Matchbox Cars
That Dad keeps digging out of the backyard?
I swear that I just read the pain
In Jared’s poetry and thought that I could do that.
Wasn’t I just hammering my drum set
In the garage to “We Built This City”?
Where are Samwise and Frodo;
They were around
Just a second ago.
And I thought I saw Grandma and Grandpa
Last weekend for miniature golf;
How come Grandpa always won?
Wasn’t I just here with Karen, with Laura,
With Dawn, with someone else?
Wasn’t I just here?

Introducing the Muse

Posted: December 7, 1994 in Poetry
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I wonder, as the Poet,
if you care what I say here;
these words may only be
patterns or statistics to you.
The appreciation is when organs move
— some passing of spirit
through your flesh,
a Magick spell which,
uttered, or even read,
evokes a thump on the heart-drum or
a tangle of the air in your lungs.
When the eyes are slightly moistened
beyond necessity or that which can be played off,
when the lips subconsciously part or move with the sound
as if to kiss the flowering thoughts,
to sip from the cup of each syllable
— then the letters become words,
translated back into ideas,
reconstructed in a different mind,
personalized to a different environment
— accurately speculated back to
the willpower of imagination that birthed the poem.
My Muse:
she is a bashful widow who hangs her veils thick,
like laundry on a street with no electricity.
A glimpse of the rare beauty,
your eyes to her holiness,
always too quick for detail, yet
that soul-string hums
with some instinctual empathy.
I tend to stutter during introductions
because I never get it just right.

Hush

Posted: August 22, 1993 in Poetry
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you asked me once upon a time
if I could hear the speech of the sea.
I said yes and that
was where are agreement ended;
you heard eulogies, laments,
cries of change and supportive flesh,
the echoes of watery hands
drumming on cliffsides,
rolling rocks into its stomach,
a maelstrom of creative fury
controlled and unleashed
by the whim of the innocent moon.
But when I hear the ocean,
it is a purring cat, content
on lapping milky foam
on the sands of this one beach
and saying to me over and over
as it launders the shores
“hush . . . it’s alright”.

a Man of Many Talents,
none too outstanding, but outstanding in having
many talents; things to choose from
but the worry is happiness and
peace of mind – though he won’t admit it,
he wants the instruction book:
he wants help in figuring it out
what goes where and which thing does what,
why this thing moves and this one doesn’t,
and why things are the way they are.

thus the poetry.
a book of lessons learned and notes,
ideas on what was going on then to be
hints on what to do if it’s happening now.
affirmations of belief to view
when unsure and vaccilating
about what to do.

A Sunrise over the Phone

Posted: March 19, 1993 in Poetry
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I am the anvil that rings
with each hammer falling,
a star impacting, exploding, desiring, denying
that I love so deep, so much;
I feel when I hear you hurt, your voice
like butterflies in my ears,
the tautness of a drum
within my heart.

Untitled Poem #100

Posted: December 28, 1990 in Poetry
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I heard the liquid drums pounding
and the silver sky tore apart.
the moonbeams fell sharp and screaming
bending their rainfall to my face.
I smelled the coming heat
and the clouds were writhing soundless.
the wind chimes swung emptily,
wailing their grief into the night.
I saw the many trees dancing
and the glow from my eyes went silent.
the earth grew faint beneath my feet,
melting my flesh off in runnels.
I knew the serpents were stirring
and my old scars split with delight.
the hum of the land was loud on my skin
when walking with the Lords of the Wind.