Best Tympanic Poems
Mystical labyrinth of twisting harmonic warnings
Gazing into infinity’s composing handiwork –
Moonbeams in silver sung sonatas –
Ivory hued cantatas resolved from heart pacing crescendos
Spring’s soothing birdcalls after tympanic thunder.
Measured tempos of rhythms search for their time signature
As aching melodies in moveable feasts of swans
Search for resolutions in atonal firebird tango ballads
Through classical dusty suites of western legends
Not losing pitch or tripping over downbeats.
Too many notes squeeze into four square spaces
When magic flutes songs soar over seraglio dreams
Imperial marches set imprisoned phrasing free with fanfares
And close encounters of key notes discard dissonance
Seeking rhapsody in hues of blue.
Plaintive and joyful - hopeful and merciful -
Healing rhythms inspired from the eternal melody,
A lost chord to haunt then heal the midnight heart
All arranged in one accord from the Master’s apprentices
To rest in finality of one trailing echo of waltzing river.
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
BELLS
I.
Bells has a tingling ring to it,
a jingledy-jangle silver tone.
The tympanic waltz, close knit —
angelic chorus of Christ’s throne.
And Winter parades its magic —
the pure white snow purling gold.
Morgans’ shiver and shake chromatic.
Enchantment’s carol — behold!
O Christmas day — the pearly gates
stretched wide open in senssuround,
handbells harmonious, worldwide translate
singing, sweeping, melody crowned.
~
II.
*Poesome bells! They’re morose.
Tentacles dingle-dangle forth.
Curious onlooker of its strokes,
midnight binds its ears, looks North.
The lonesome brass calls for lad
and lass with clean cuts and braids.
The aww-no sound is clad
in a nonsenseless grade.
*Edgar Allen dawdles with death clang,
its clanger brain, hellish.
The beauty, from tower hangs —
the dauber of knells doth relish.
12/20/2020
*Some thoughts from Poe’s poem “The Bells”
SLOW MOVEMENT
Move out from tall trees - to wider scene now
Tympanic rhythm - andante theme
As footsteps beat on - path of the Ash beam
In diverse prospect - wet levels gleam
Look to the surface - life is reflected
Now mirrors brightening - skies cerulean
See over there the - new view surveyed now
Past tawny grasses - strewn by wind laid
Birch saplings dapple - hazel and apple
Amber the dry fern - dashed now with jade
Where silver stems - surround sun-bright vale there
Small stream descends in - glistening cascade
Over above In - slow closing distance
Land rises to - overlook languid fen
Our destination - draws our steps on to
Reach barrow slopes - fields of wider ken
So measured pace continues ‘til then
While spirit moves to hilltop ascend
My open-ended lines can convey more than one idea. Verse 3, middle line, ends in “I am.” I am both okay (today) & puddles on pavement.
whispering birds through wind and light rain
no drama of wildly flapping wings & lightning
sweetness in covered tones, under umbrella
mine is red and white, candy-striped, mint
moment at the beach, ebbed into tall mug
heat of cream & coffee steam my a.m. lens
just peachy in mid-May, Mother’s Day past
don’t have to pretend to be okay today, I am
puddles on pavement, swirls of mud and moss
sounds of Spring tympanic, tinkling & symbolic
dull day, verdancy not at all bright, nice chill
still those tweets invite a kiss of heart, mind, soul
louder tweets, grow, not as mad as thunder, tow
not of under, nor rip; chorus of natural sequence
and consequence, harmonious, non-disclosure
biddies somewhere are moving their beaks
cheeky in gossiping, speaking curses not kisses
only man intentions to kill, imagines the hearse
be sweet, as proverbial pie; as best homemade honey
don’t terrify anyone with a storm of marmite words
lightly flap your wings to visit the poor in your dreams
thoughts cohabitate with nature, change moment
to moment, pierced and pecked synchronization
not numbed out by a blinding sheet of buffeting sound
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
A true friend is a priceless gift.
Never dominates you
But an important part in you.
Unlike others who can falsely define you
A true friend will try to refine you.
When the rest see you as a perfect nobody
He sees you an important somebody.
With remarkable loyalty he never ceases to amuse
And he sees backstabbing as a total abuse.
You always contently cherish his presence
And ardently long for him in his absence.
That is what I feel about you loyal friend,
If you were existing in mathematics
To me your care would be like an exponential curve
Whose asymptote is infinity, you care infinitiously,
Pardon me if my last word does not exist in a dictionary
The thing is I just wanna show my gratitude, it’s necessary.
Your friendship is a symphony whose music sound is loud in my ear
But never tears my tympanic membrane,
It causes tears somewhere else in me, in my eyes dear,
Tears of joy and happiness when you remind me I’m worthy,
The core of your friendship is burly…
Almost always, as additional allurements arrive, ask as a Being...
By better borne behests become best Causes ?
Can causes create concise concepts Diligently ?
Do doers do decidedly dumb doldrums Ever ?
Each eek echoes egotistical efforts enduring Familiarity...
Faith fathers forgiveness for flaunting fabled Gifts.
Gasps give great grief, growing gruesome Hatreds...
Hasn't humanity had hurt hearts hung Innocently ?
Is insistence in increasing irritation inevitably incongruous Justice ?
Jimson jars...jitters...joggles...jolts...just jocose jurisprudence' Knell.
Kerfuffle kin, kickshaw kept ken, kindly knaves kneading Lamentations...
Leaving love's loaves, lordly lotharios, looking like lowlifes Made.
Marking more madmen mere moronic monsters meting mayhem Nearby.
Now, not never, nab needed nerves, nurture nasturtium near Openness !
Once only one, ordained our ostracism, outrage outdone on overwrought Plight.
Perhaps pride precludes passable patience, posing portentous prolapse Quickly !
Quiet quandaries, quarrelsome qualms, quivering quixotic quirks Resplendent...
Reaching relapse, revolving recidivism, reconstructed reflective reform Seen !
Searching secretive states, seemingly simple, sincere serenity sought Through...
Tender tears, touching together to total tympanic transformation Unjust.
Unique union...unimportant, unbending, unpopular, unless universal Veracity !
Verbose verbalism, vertical vignettes verify vital victory Won.
When written with wit...watershed words work wonderful Xerography !
Xyloid xylography, xeroxed xeno X, Yet...
Yesterday's youth, yowled yummy young yips Zanily !
Zeitgeist, zombie zealots zapping zonked zingers...Away !!
It was a shock
Even though I didn’t check the clock
That colorful approach blew my mind
Cause it was seldom to find
Prior to this time, panted my heart
like never before
My system shook in search of the
missen…
My members anticipated for as long
as I waited
For time tickled slowly in delay of
fate
But something keeps beeping in my
head
Up! Up! It seems far away in the sky
Soaring with birds of unequal
feathers
And I know that’s ‘’U’’
When will force of gravity start
working in opposite?
When will rapture show its face?
Even if rapture and gravity take to
no concern,
Then I will board a plane
But still waiting for gravity to go hay-
wire,
Suddenly comes the heaven kissing
the earth.
And now comes my dreams at my
disposal
Oh! What an aura to behold.
See her smiling to attract sentence
My star, my heart, my baby
The rib that left before my inception
You’ve just filled the lacuna.
For I was blind yet could see your
heart
Dumb, but could still tell you that I
love you
Deaf, but heard you when you called
my name
Lame, yet walked into your life
Your eyes prints give me a reason to
stay
Your sonority reverbs in my tympanic
membrane-all wisdom like a sonic
boom
Hmm! I feel the euphoria of true
love
And I know we’ll forever move with
the speed of light
Now, my members dangle for joy
They jingle doggedly because of this
mingle
And never would I want to remain a
single
For my heart still pants to answer
your emotional questions
But…. Wait for a while!
Don’t I need some check up?
Ah! My chemistry has lost its sense
of organization
My members gyrate even when I
don’t take cigarette
I am drawn to what I cannot
understand
But that’s not my fault
Cause at the touch of love, everyone
becomes a poet.
The thing that went...
The first thing that went wrong -
was the buzzing in my left ear,
the one not buried in the pillow,
the one that was open to the world.
The second thing that went wrong
was that dream I was having,
you know, the one where I'm gazing
at you - soo beautiful, soo lustful,
was receding like a cosmic dust cloud
The third thing that went wrong
was my sense of consciousness coming
before the fourth thing but after a second
I realized I was waking up to
The fourth thing that went wrong
the buzzing from the first was even
louder now than a second ago and ticklish
and I realized it had - legs
The fifth thing that went wrong
was me turning and sitting erect quickly
not conscious enough to feel the rocking but
quite able to feel the ceiling I smashed into
a mere twenty-four inches above my bunk
The sixth thing that went wrong
was my abrupt shock from concussive smash
and my equal abhorrence at the knowledge
of something of the arthropod phylum
dancing upon my tympanic membrane
The seventh thing that went wrong
was me turning off the bunk to stand erect
forgetting I was on the top bunk
and my feet were far away from the floor
The eighth thing that went wrong
was the whitened pain that cross-eyed me
as my right big toe curled 180°
underneath my gravitous torso pushing
toward the planked floor below
The ninth thing that went wrong
was the piercing shout that came from
my wide involuntary lips and tongue
just as the Musca domestica miraculously
left my ear in a fit of self-preservation
The tenth thing that went wrong
was the hard lateral left turn that I took
just as the fly took a hard lateral right
and buzzed for final clearance to land
just below the epiglottis
The eleventh thing that went wrong
was me closing my mouth in utter surprise
knowing the first thing that went right
was that domestic fly - right down my throat
"Good morning" you sleepily said as you
blinked and smiled from your slumbering bunk
I looked at you with astonishment
realizing I had started the day only
seconds ago, and already two things
had gone right; It was gonna be a good day.
© Goode Guy 2013-11-20
for the December 2013 challenge at the
open-mic at Aromas coffeehouse:
a first line of "The first thing that went wrong"
tentatively we touch
gentleness a brushed lingering
rising waves of repetition unfold
achingly intense
crisp as belled glass
full of heartache, plump with longing
life races toward … to ward …
in spiral tip toed pirouettes
trailing across the tympanic membranes
sliding up and down scales
darkness sharp and ivory keys
sound reminds
6/9/14
Poesy and song are all about
rhythm and flow, and tunes and tones;
how every rise and fall throughout
make melody within the zones
and forms of verse without fade-out
to listener's tympanic bones.
Measure’s a trick of deft poets,
who know the cadence of their feet
gives lines their tempo. And so it’s
like Poesy’s pulsating heartbeat;
it’s hypnotic (and you know it’s
rhythmic),—so feel its potent beat.
Together, Poesy's clear measure
(the crests and troughs of its music,
the highs and lows of its leisure)
can roar like a score symphonic,
an orchestra of high pleasure
with counterpoint so harmonic!
privileged clouds catch breath...
meadowlark’s song bridges gulf...
rain's tympanic leaves
Brian Johnston
November 11, 2015
The musical band
--O' ladies and gentlemen--
Eardrum *tinnitus!
*Tintinnabulation--ringing or tinkling of bells
*Tinnitus--a ringing in the ears
SILENCE
Articulations bound by another’s place.
Maw silenced, no expressions from this face.
Inarticulate, the lingna moves not for Beauty.
Vocal cords caught, a voice sought.
Yet no lyrical, poetic vibrations projected.
Pinna, tympanic membrane never again to be affected?
Silences, preponderates the roar between a reality and memory.
Mnemosyne, perched on high, tells the story.
Mneme gives insight, with insight, no glory.
For all, fear, fear it has come to an end.
No longer a supposition ?, a bestfriend?
To hold out for a touch, may prove too much.
Auricle, not the Oracle, to believe.
The heart blinds, it doth deceive.
Love ?, did the soul ever receive?
It flounders at the bottom of boundless seas.
B. J. "A" 2
August 15th 2011