Drums Poems - Poems about Drums

VI. We are all metric modulations of our former selves—changing time signatures mid-measure, learning to count in odd meters when life refuses to conform to 4/4 expectations finding beauty in 7/8 existence— the off-kilter cadence of becoming. The teenager tattoos pain across her skin in sixteenth-note flurries— razor crescendos marking flesh rimshots echoing in a locked room her body a snare absorbing what no one will hear. But the counselor...

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I. In the beginning was the Single Stroke Roll— left-right, left-right, the primordial heartbeat of existence itself, each alternation a binary choice between being and non-being, the eternal paradiddle of consciousness striking against the drumhead of reality. Listen: the Buzz Roll of morning traffic— ten thousand souls creating multiple bounces against the stretched skin of commuter silence. Each ghost note a rhythmic prayer unheard each...

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Tho' right-handed instruments the two do play yet one is downside up left-handed musicians both are they or seem to sup from a similar southpaw cup and if you follow the trail of crumbs they lead to Jimi the Starr of guitar and stick to Ringo the Hendrix of drums ...

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Ancestral Celestial Grand Rising high A journey so questrial Elevate Motivate A divine connection Between spiritual and creative realms A spark A flame A birth right A name Wild free untamed Authentic Unchained Poetic drums are my native language We know each other so well A colonizer could not change it An oppressor could not enslave it For me and my poetic drum are one Grand rising Melanin thriving under the divine shining...

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Randolph Peter Best thought he was a better drummer than all the rest but his new band wouldn’t put up with such malarky and he was soon replaced by Richard Starkey *For those who don't know-Richard Starkey is aka Ringo Starr*...

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Amazon mist and rainy mornings green as the day God made them dropping from a moist sky full of even grays and sheltering light peaceful music playing from the spheres of a dense forest dream we are all little humans in a big big giant cave, .... the rain Pitter...

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The aftermath of war … the only true peace (Dreamsleep: April, 2024) ...

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I was a bed and mattress tester, a dream job like that of a yellow moon. I tested the comfort of beds, pillows, etc., for night is ever coming soon. I studied sleep patterns too, like vivid rainbow's colored, striped design. I also appraised sleep products, as botanists do royal rose's genetic line. I rated beds for luxury hotels,...

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Hear the beating of the new drums A heavenly call for us to war dance Hear the inner voice, let it guide Us to our abiding reside These new notes within us Will shift away the mess Breaking the old cycle of pain Leading us to peaceful waters again The good that we have sown Will come downstream on its own Bringing...

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Hear the drums beating strong and true A rhythm of heaven, a call to renew Hear the rain, let your spirit rise As the winds blow, let your life take flight For in this moment, heaven comes near Bringing favor, to defeat every fear Recovery and redemption, in its hands As it pours blessings, upon your land Through your bloodline, blessings will come Breaking...

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Beat the drums; aye, beat the drums! Make them go stark raving mad— These likes of Emperor Jones. 1 The criminals' courts play house. Adzes don't cut their own tails. 2 Where are Clinton, Bush, and Trump? 3 'We' are the people, the mob. 4 'We' are judges; 'we' punish. They should be ripped limb from limb. Peaceful rallies will not do. The...

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Jeepers is playing the clarinet. We have Sheepster on the cymbals. Cowster is on the drums. Why does Cowster always get the drums? Whined rooster. No one knew the answer, but it is the way it has always been. Pleasing Cowster....

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As the drums go off in the cavern we a whole village sit together in unison we end up foaming green bubbles and slime from our mouths and our eyes going back white as snow which we will never see. The man in the middle was an albino pastor, his name was Nimbus and...

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and the drums beat, beat, beat and flutes and voices float and the eagle calls me and the wolves howl, howl, howl oh, a wind is whistling, whirling, whispering come, come, come and in the stillness I am an Ojibway girl seeking my lost heritage I bow to the grandfather spirits in the sky telling them with respect that I am trying to find my place and the drums...

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I just want to write you weekly, Verses from the heart of one of God’s Son Abated blessings of continued drums, The rhythm beats of His created anatomical heart ABATED BLESSINGS OF CONTINUED DRUMS BEATS THE HEART WITH IN LOVE- Impart electric, eclectic, energies, sparks… Quietly True 5/1/23 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023© from anthology booklets … Quietly...

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