Best Thrumming Poems

my fingertips
touch ...
tender, but with melodic intent
you tremble
just SO ...
and sigh sweetly
the delightful answer
to my questioning hands
a gentle press ...
your supple curves against me
fitting me like dovetail
your quivers ...
soft-thrumming my flesh
matching your moans
the hushing pulse of your body
urges me on ...
your swan-like neck
satin beneath my...

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Over harvested fields —

I walk beneath the fading afterglow
of a forgotten lantern   a path worn
by wanderers older than the scroll of Zeno
its damp salve seeping through my coat
into my bones

Fog an Erebian curtain   a Stygian veil
barn swallows following
susurrus secrets of the...

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Out of the burrows and hedges and dreys
Heads began bobbing and eyes were agaze.
Rumours were twittered and grunted and squealed:
‘The combine is coming to harvest the field!’
The moles and the voles and the rabbits and hares
All hurried and scurried and scattered in pairs.
The hedgehogs and...

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Awake through afternoons and ageless nights,
the poet waits for a muse to sneak.
His brumous mind reminisces,
frantically exploring a galaxy of words.
He looks for a lofty mountain hiding in the fog.
He looks for a crimson fireball hiding in the ember.

Wriggles out of the cocoon, 
in swirls...

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I am faceless

Tattered by actuality

Heart thrumming in my ears

Blind to prospects

Voiceless ... soundless


Yet I scream, mute

Face to the sky, I wail like a fiend

Hailing the heavens like a forsaken angel

Above, the sucking expanse

A mocking roar of silence that drips, somber


And bleaches my bones black ......

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Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll

On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing...

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I hold you ...
tight to my chest
but with a concerned tenderness,
as if you are an infant
that I am shielding from a storm ...
or an angel of Valhalla -
her last breath given, ear-to-heart
for the soft-thrumming rhythm of life ...
(what my tympans now ache for)
your flesh is...

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I am silence ...


The sweet, tender ache between notes ...

The deafening quiet of a heart no longer thrumming ...

The throbbing reticence of the Universe


As it pauses to consider its breadth ...

The glorious quiescence of life

That helps us appreciate all that it is NOT ...


The beauty...

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Bluebells are a ringin' and springin' up like kites.
Thyme is rustling along, glimpsing at dazzling sights.

Fox tails are a wagin' in the breeze, zig-zagin',
strutting their charisma, to be petted beggin'.

Roses are perfuming, famous scent resuming,
competing with nearby lilac flowers blooming.

Be still, my bleeding heart, absorb...

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* I always felt like “Nessie” got a bad rap, being called a monster and a beast and all that, so I think this little piece of mythic imagery grew from that. I hope you enjoy. *

        ...

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In this haunted room I feel a presence build.
So thick is the air, closing in as you capture space.
The empty chair that was, now your body filled.
Sudden cold spot blasting icy gusts upon my face.

Heart thrumming uselessly in my frail breast.
Pounding in my ears, drowning...

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pitch black ...
like ink ... or drowning in oil
only she could breathe
barely ...
heart thrumming in her ears like tympani
it was all she could hear
thankfully ...
she had awakened from dreaming
a good dream, too
(though it was now gone from memory)
laying on her left side
she had first felt...

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Woven perfection posh and copious
Threads of illumed infinity converging
Thrumming life in the Almighty breath
Varying designs of diligence and entreaty

Fading to an ominous melancholy gray
Selfish as his struggle becomes greater weight
Becoming vivid hope of unrelenting faith
As our Father returns our focus to the Son

This tapestry weaves...

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Cutest prattles of children I adore
Are now the loudest cries I bear
Oh, No! The grieves of these abandoned souls
The worst sounds I have ever heard

Mesmerizing songs of endemic birds I carried
have become a threatening alarm now
Migratory birds missed the way to their hometown 
Endemic ones...

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I ...
sit by the
window ...
cold, damp air
wrapping
tendrils 'round my
nape,
reminding me of
February ...
of her ... of farewell
chill thoughts
gather like
a knot
in the back of
my skull ...
thrumming like Thor's
mallet -
commending the
haughty
hell that dripped
from her
baby-soft
bows
like honeyed poison ...
to ruin
me....

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