Best Timpani Poems
I walked in darkness along the shore
seeking only solitude and nothing more
Thunder drummed from somewhere far away
like foreboding timpani as clouds began to play
They competed with the roar of bally waves
crashing to the beach in rhythmic laves
Everything was out of reach for me
the moon, the stars, the depth of the sea
Echoes of a nocturne were swirling in my head
Lyrics left unsung, but spoken instead
My soprano continued; the falsetto stopped
Too weak to stand, on my knees I dropped
My footprints had been erased by an ebbing tide
No longer able to run. I chose not to hide
Blind in the darkness, my loneliness daunting
a flash of lightning, then another more taunting
I lifted my eyes to the sky, to the falling rain
its sting delivered in a medley, staccatos of pain
On the edge of the sea, I waited for the end of me
My tears an ensemble, an elegy in requiem plea
I ignored the orchestra when I heard the ocean call
louder than kettle drums or the storm's howling squall
No encore would this night be able to reprise
When the flowing tide encroached, I closed weary eyes
A chorus of waves crashed like cymbals in concerto
stealing the baton from the hand of the Maestro
The moon and stars were out of reach for me
I wept as I was swept into the depth of the sea
August 28, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 13 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Categories:
timpani, beach, emotions,
Form:
Elegy
I am a creature like others, taking for granted each breath,
making mistakes, some no amount of contrition can erase
which makes my faults no less dismal than death.
Unless by the mercy of my Creator, I am to be forgiven.
Perhaps I can best define myself as God's spark as a poet.
I am a wanderer when I write of where I've been
and in tales of woe when long ago I buried myself in sin.
I am on display revealing why I lost my wings in dreams
and why I've wept for love that faded like moon beams.
There's a timeless spiritual energy in penning such things.
I am the voice of my heart, embracing its inner goodness,
allowing it to heal through bleeding when it suffers,
and to beat like timpani drums with happiness.
Within me, poetry denies bearing a name.
It's akin to having unquestionable faith in God,
knowing His words have the power to soothe my soul.
His blessing is ever a righteous honor that I would laud.
I am the wielder of a pen. Poems die at my hands,
eyes cry for Sonnets, and every abandoned verse.
Guilt, the emotion flowing inside of me, and...
the way I feel when I fall asleep before ending a prayer.
There are parts of my flawed humanity that need repair
and the reason I fear He will not forgive my trespasses.
Do the words I toss away feel as imperfect
as I think I am in my Father's eyes?
I am the Shrew, untamed, the one who bore witness
to the sun's heartache for loving the moon.
I compose words in a magical language that tell
that life can be lived eternally in lines of script
instead of being thrown into the infernal pit of hell
or decaying in a sepulcher crypt.
I am a sword, fighting battles that should've never been.
What worth are spoils to victors if none are left standing?
With my pen I am a crack in the mirror of vanity,
or perhaps the vein of insanity that I try to keep hidden.
I am hope, trying to break the thread of reality.
I am me, trying to transcend space and time in poetry.
Feed me ink and I will write. Give me parchment and
I will fill sheafs with what emanates from inside of me
for I am a poet of love and light and poetry is my clothing.
But know that without poetry I will be found loathing.
If it's taken away from me, then bare naked I will be.
Categories:
timpani, emotions, god, how i
Form:
Free verse
There’s fire in the way your eyes do smolder
with lust your gaze caresses every curve
of my body making you grow bolder
to trill and pluck and tingle every nerve.
Arousing touch awakens my desire
as waves of passion roll like timpani,
ravished by your rapture takes me higher
our movements in sonata symphony.
Your bow - my violin we do unite
on rhythmic notes of ecstasy we fly ~
entwined our heartstrings vibrate through the night
emblazoned love songs burn across the sky.
In Stradivarius intensity
crescendo joins your virtuosity.
Susan Ashley
April 15, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Your Best Sonnet 2018 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Tenth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Any Rhyming Poem In April
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Categories:
timpani, desire, love, music, passion,
Form:
Sonnet
Wind and sea and waves and sun
sand in toes as day is done
Seagulls glide, sandpipers run
young dad splashes with his son
Breakers rise, translucent teal
lifeguards poised as youngsters squeal
Seniors search for shells - they feel
twelve again as sun rays heal
Sky on fire towards the west
clouds in lustrous fashion dressed
Cosmic artistry - I'm blessed
songs of peace swirl through my chest
Violins waft quietly
over swelling timpani
Saxophone soars soulfully
bidding hearts to be set free
Blushing scarlet, clouds advance
smell of salty foam enchants
Palm trees sway as in a trance
recalls young love's first slow dance
Couples stroll, fingers entwined
share a kiss if so inclined
Rising moon smiles as designed:
gives the anxious peace of mind
Waves still warm from midday blaze
surfers dance in sea-mist haze
Sailboats flee from stress-filled days
springtime struts; summer sashays
written 23 June 2023
Categories:
timpani, beach, sea, summer, water,
Form:
Rhyme
Golden Disks and Whale Clicks
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the surface
of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascade, scroll, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published: Eye to the Telescope 1/15/15
Categories:
timpani, space,
Form:
Free verse
In the dimmed theater, the stage is set
not for a play though, yet a performance
one of baton, brass, notes, timpani
the performance I have waited for has come
As the stage lights grow brighter like sunlight
the theater grows dimmer yet, almost dark
but for the brilliance of the stage lights
then out you come with French Horn in hand
Along with thirty of forty other musicians
you take the stage, you are first chair
therefore you must be at your best tonight
and I know that you will be, you've practiced
The Conductor arrives on stage and announces
Welcome to the Black Hawk County Honor Band
I am sure you will be pleased with our selections
The Conductor takes the podium, opens his arms
With baton in hand he signals instruments ready
You raise your horn along with the others
ahhh the sound is fervent with excitement
the theater is alive with Parker in G flat
I can pick your horn from all the other instruments
you are playing the best you have ever played
you are caressing your horn like a fine jewel
and it sparkles in the light brilliance unimagined
Like your brother the writer of poetic beauty
you also have talent, musical talent like I
you now can hear a song and play it, by ear
like I you are learning the guitar, teaching yourself
The next song, Bach, such beauty to my ears
you and your fellow musicians have mastered the master
two years you have played, it sounds like many more
I film the whole concert, to preserve the moment
The concert ends with a Beethoven, in B how lovely
again you played masterfully, never missed a note
You even hit high G, and you thought you couldn't
well done son and it's all on tape, and in my memory
Red faced you leave the atrium, you worked so hard
I hug you and tell you how proud I am of you
all you want is a drink of water, you drank and
the redness is leaving your face, well done I hug you again
I wish your Brother could have been here to see and hear
he would have been proud too, and would have hugged you
You see, talent runs in our family, Me, you and Jared
all have it, So I guess it's in the gene pool, must be for you see
The Nuts fall close to the tree !
Categories:
timpani, family, lovebrother, brother,
Form:
Narrative
How can I sever wolf-waves from the selfish sea?
I ache to cut the rogue from the relentless flow
his crest —swelled in high rise on testosterone tide—
swindles my tease to tame his blue Neptune flame
mocking my sun dried bed with unruly despise
he rides a white steed in petulant power with the moon
I am the passive strand of sand longing for his rhythm
oh timpani thunder roll in roll over me my skin awaits
taunt of aerated fate I await with serrated silence
stranded by him… I await… as inconsequential
as an oyster shell without a pearl
as a pearl unfulfilled without a knotted strand
I am the beach exposed at the lowest ebb
my eyes not sand-blind when cherry sun colors him red
and fuels his restless quest for honeypot conquests
to consummate sunset with supple skies far from home
and conjugate with sugar-shores not his own
my protests to his stray-sprees lay like loose scree
lure-lyrics litter air but then die a pale chitter in his ear
fruited gripes broken in breakers re-rhymed into pulp
summer-sweet to his palate as beach plum wine—
whine in the grind of my grain soundproofed by his kiss
where is his echo to my thirsty plea of love
when he’s the romeo sea and I’m the sand seduced
and exist in recline to absorb his homecoming
while beach-grass-bending-wind
whips my voice away from my throatless soul?
my resist drowns in liquid grooves of his drum beat—
spume churned in surf zone… our spindrift in bloom yet
echoes of the silent shore echo in me alone
Categories:
timpani, beach, conflict, longing, love
Form:
Free verse
Must you torment me, you sultry vixen,
Beguile me with the ling’ring lust of more
Hold me quiv’ring within your heated grasp
Entrap me with the distance of your shore
Please touch gently the paleness of my need
Infuse your torrid breeze with flowered balm
Awakening a fullness, bursting forth
To join you in your solemn summer Psalm
Thus, sing sweet nature’s ever-welcome song
Dark ravens ‘mid the timpani of corn
Watch as the buzzing bees complete their chores
Fear not the roses beauty, nor it’s thorn
So come you sultry sunrise, make my day
Your rolling fields will soon be winter’s hay
©7/13/2023
Categories:
timpani, summer,
Form:
Sonnet
“A maestro is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others.”-
~~ The Poet ~~
Conductor of an art form, stands the maestro of the storm.
Instruments take their place, then the symphony begins.
Firstly, a tuneful rhapsody of woodwind with violins.
The sheer spellbinding rhythm builds increasingly strong.
A tinkling as the rain begins, he uses spiccato to bring the tempo along.
The piccolo sends notes scurrying for cover by the continued rain,
And introduces the flutes into the mix once again.
The cadence evolves, with heralding intensity to engage.
Notes follow the beat, to a crescendo of immense rage.
Now, as the kettle drums implode within their skins,
The conductor is in full control, as his baton spins
Music’s fury is reinforced by trombones, entering for the first time.
Cymbals clash, cellos and double basses offer a fortissimo effect, sublime.
The percussion again, joins, as the woodwind slows,
Notes soften, and the flute’s melody gently flows.
A solo of horns, a transition with the full orchestra, it springs.
In suspense of his melody, the piano takes us to strings.
Tempo lighter, airier which is juxtaposed with the timpani drums.
The soft gentle tones, once hurtled by deafening wind, silence comes.
Audience captivated, orchestra foregone. The maestro lowers his baton.
Categories:
timpani, music,
Form:
Rhyme
I think we are all drummers –
of course, drum musicians know
that drumming is not just pounding
on the skins (well, vinyl these days) –
there is also, soulful brushwork, and
finessing of symbols...not everyone a crash;
drums breathe -- all parts -- from outer
shells to inner resonance; influenced
also by surface temperature, humidity
of the room, and the echos of their
wall enclosure or freedom – not so
different from the maker: our hearts
are echo-chambers...especially our
minds, the garbage in the garbage out –
we echo love or the discourse of the
environment – we are beat spirited
rhythms, shuffles and stomps of feet –
tasteful entrees and all that a desire
can eat – seeming devils at times,
that only our surrender to God can
defeat – Yes! God is a drummer: no
moving instrument of being without
its core sound – a universe of timpani,
some quite square, but really, all is
round – the universe a lively Topsy,
a swing and a shout – we leap and
twirl in time – knowing time, not
gravity, keeps us down, shuts us
in, or keep us up and highly
out. Even at my age, more apt
to honestly, sweat-fully gig, than play
under any, pretentious, perfumed
wig.
Categories:
timpani, dance, freedom, humorous, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
My soul aches to know
What those that don’t know
Know
My heart beats
A timpani of tomorrows
On hold
An old man sits alone in the park
Reliving the moments
of yesterday’s tomorrows
a passing breeze wonders why it cannot linger amid the flowers
a feral cat peers at a cat dish…
what cost
freedom
what if mirrors reflected who we really are instead of what we look like
if we searched as hard for the truth as we do for a misplaced remote…WELL
Categories:
timpani, humor, life, wisdom,
Form:
Monoku
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the
surface of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascades, scrolls, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published by Eye to the Telescope 2015
Categories:
timpani, earth, eulogy,
Form:
Free verse
It was the night of
The first seventh grade
Band concert
I had to play the timpani
For the last song.
I was terrified that
I would mess up
Everybody would hear
Nobody would forget
I looked at the first person
Who came into my mind.
I didn’t know why.
I thought he was irritating
And I’d never thought about him
Before that night.
I guess he had a case of the nerves like me,
Because of the fact that
He
Looked
Back at me.
Categories:
timpani, anxiety, hope, miracle,
Form:
The forest floor stretches drum tight, bound by verdant slopes, a timpani of sound.
First greeters of rain’s onslaught, leaves trill joy, form larger drops, a deeper sound
While tires rumble freeways flowing through suburban sprawl like spring flashflood
That envelopes older, gravely rich, established enclave’s tombstones. Gurgles sound
That rival reverberations of a symphony hall, canyon walls full of a halcyon praise.
Nature mutes personal pain, music of motion scoring modern hallelujahs in sound,
Though rainbows, ocean tides, and tidal frictions in lunar crust, also have a voice.
These vibrations only felt by enraptured souls, that are so unlike an infant’s sound,
Season earth with salty song. As mans’ voice rises into space, a lullaby harmonizes,
To any God with ears to hear, a strong echo, “It is good!” our praise colored sound!
Brian Johnston
April 25, 2015
Poet’s Notes:
A Ghazal is a poem of 5-8 couplets with one repeating word (at the end of each stanza) and a hidden reference to my name in the last stanza. This poem has two Easter Eggs as I call them, inside of it, my name and a bit of personal information. Can you find it?
PS: You may not believe me but I swear that there are real sounds associated with both rainbows and tides in case you wondered. They are just beyond our human hearing range in frequency and also very weak.
Categories:
timpani, beauty, life, , Lullaby,
Form:
Ghazal
As I stand atop the crest of the hill, its bosom round and full,
I gaze upon the lazy valley sprawling before me.
In the distance at the base of the misty, blue mountains
the Loblolly pines play timpani in the Autumn breeze
singing a lullaby to the golden field of wheat.
"Sleep my lovelies, ssleep, sssleep," it hisses with sweet breath.
Cool licks of chilling air send a quiver through my skin,
while the slowly creeping sun seeks shelter behind the towering peaks.
The majesty before me reminds me of my own fragile mortality,
as my mind wanders and my thoughts leave me dizzy and weak.
Like the leaves falling from the majestic oak,
they swirl into eddies of twirling dancers
mimicking the undulating waves
of the dried crops rippling in the breeze.
The blue sky, calm and serene
So many such skies have I beheld,
their beauty breathtaking in their infinity,
but now they darken
as I grow closer to the inevitable twilight of life,
the red sunset beckoning to me.
No less majestic, the hues of crimson and coral
mingling with fuchsia and garnet, flushing gently,
moving across the face of the evening sky.
With wispy brushes, they slowly paint their way
from cloud to gossamer cloud engulfing the horizon
like the slowly fading memory of a woman's soft blush,
gently kissing my cheek, red lipstick lingering.
Blue turning to black, time standing still,
the crimson fades and the dark quiet of the night settles.
07/27/2015
Nature Poems Only Contest-1st Place
Shadow Hamilton
8/26/2015
Categories:
timpani, nature, , Lullaby,
Form:
Free verse