Notes About The Poem

Drumrolls

Samuel Woodruff was a very old man, who once drummed for the army; That marched to his rhythmic music, along with all fifers, playing hearty. That was a lifetime ago, in dawn days so pink, golden, and richly green; Like petal strewn time moving backward, to the premiere, pivotal scene. Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset, And played them after his daily walks; like the love you will never forget. His fast friend, Comet, followed him, through fields of fascination flowers; As he made up ditties to match the beat, of the flaming, futuristic hours. Of faithful family, Sam had none, but for his fond, faddish sister, Pauline; Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer, like allure on the silver screen. Sam lived in the house of memories, of past and present changing places; Where often rolling thunder was noted, like apricot roses, in cream vases. Starlight snuck in windows, on a street that never seemed to say goodbye; As sophisticated moon adored supper music, of redbirds, next to ebon sky. Neighbor children noticed Sam's ditties, and often trailed behind to listen, To each verse of nostalgia, featuring him. They loved all the fun repetition! 'Mad dog skullcaps' were running amok, when black-eyed Susans, sparkled; And bright daffodils recalled Narcissus, when magenta butterflies, startled. 'Cupid's dart' flowers were hitting the mark, working magic in love potions; While chrysanthemums spread the 'truth,' in vivid colors, of every emotion. Samuel was heading home, one weekend day, and a huge crowd followed; Comprised of both children and adults, like pretty colors, sunset swallowed. The people sang along and clapped with Sam, to the song so easy to learn, As Sam played his drum to the march, elated with sweet memory's return! Many years have gone since then, and though Samuel's no longer around, Folks still march while singing his song; as violets spring from the ground. 'This old man, he played one, He played knick-knack on my thumb, With a knick-knack paddywhack, Give the dog a bone, This old man came rolling home.'
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Greenhough Avatar
January 13, 2025 at 5:16 PM
Happiness reins in this couplet. Sam may be old, but he shares his musical life. I was entranced with imagination.
Buehler Avatar
January 13, 2025 at 6:54 PM
Age is a cause for celebration, because of the joys you've shared, including with delighted children. Thank you for your gladdening remarks. :)
Buhagiar Avatar
January 13, 2025 at 3:31 AM
Another great tale written in perfect couplets. Great.
Buehler Avatar
January 13, 2025 at 6:49 PM
I truly appreciate your thoughtful remarks. Thank you, Victor.
Andresen Avatar
January 12, 2025 at 1:19 PM
- A marvelous fanfare for Samuel, Evelyn :) - hugs
Buehler Avatar
January 12, 2025 at 8:46 PM
Deepest thanks for your thoughts, Anne-Lise. Have a good week. hugs :)
One Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 12:39 PM
Your poem poem is a heartfelt tribute to the enduring power of memory, music, and community. Through the figure of Samuel Woodruff, it celebrates the rhythms of life that continue to shape us, even after we are gone. The imagery, symbolism, and themes of nostalgia and legacy are skillfully woven throughout, creating a poignant narrative that underscores the timeless nature of art and the lasting impact of a life well-lived.
Buehler Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 8:57 PM
Thank you so much, for the kind things you had to say about this latest tale. Your warm remarks are received with great pleasure. Best of wishes.
Rolland Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 5:54 AM
you have an unic talent to tell stories, and find special sounds, and music, great assonance, enjoyed your beautiful poem, poet evelyn
Buehler Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 8:53 PM
Your compliments are received with delight, Yann. Thank you.
Rodrigues Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 4:37 AM
Also love the music you provided! Jazzing up my early morning. Hugs and cheers
Buehler Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 8:51 PM
Your wonderful appreciation is something to smile about! Thank you.
Rodrigues Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 4:36 AM
Hope you never run out of Nursery Rhymes, dear lady! With a knick-knack paddywhack, you’ve woven in delightful imagery! Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset… Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer.
Buehler Avatar
January 11, 2025 at 8:49 PM
I think it would take a very long time to run out of nursery rhymes, Kim! Thank you for the pleasure of your elating remarks. :)
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