Eardrum Poems | Examples

Raindrops 2

Lugubrious blue mood skies funereal  and morose shed raindrops,
they unleash tableau vivant torrent’s wet tranche,
blessing,  bane or boon from vault of heaven,
damp pearl blob  bewitching moisture mellow morph form, 
the stuff of less than benign grumpy weather grouch,
whose plight infuses yen for sun-drenched bliss,
haven of the ultra-violet swathe enthusiast,
for others raindrops are  a liquid gem relish firmament bequeathed,
to whet voracious craving of nascent pastures,
whose gaunt green blade emaciating stillborn,
that aqueous honey to hue-blazed floral  garden in situ bloomers,
who swallow cloudburst drizzle meed in muted slurps, 
droplet streak and spiral bubble patten on top hung awning window,
empyrean tear beads that roof top tap dance ritual,
so tantalising to the awestruck spellbound eardrum,
or impromptu downward dribbles on romantic saunterers,
prompting boisterous laughter as they flaunt their dome transparent chromium truss umbrella,
those enraptured red-blooded refugees beneath tilting gust spun bumbershoot,
as mud splatter cherry cheek urchins shriek,
amid the spray and splash globules at agile finger tips

REVERBERATING HIGH FIDELITY

High fidelity
reverberates well
truth of God's message
ringing yon eardrum
reaching depths of heart...

...toward freedom
soul's salvation
liberating
faith to spread news...

...echoing
love and grace*
joy of peace...

...clear for
all to...

...hear!

*Ephesians 2:8-9 For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.

April 18, 2024

The Giant's Causeway

The wind takes an eardrum,
and fills it with hail.

The waves crash beyond me
on an unbeaten trail.

There are men here who think
they’ve found victory and wealth,

but the giant’s run-off,
and left for his health.

Idealism Or Someone

What do you see in my emaciated emerald eyes?
Idealism or someone lost in love and hatred
Birds eat my meat thrown on the clean floor
  A death sentence has passed on my sick neck
Don't grind your teeth as you walk on my rotting body
My blood has become fertilizer for the roads of the raging seas
The breeze plays with our scattered hearts, then the calm of the nights
And your turbulent feelings as material for my disordered heart
The fingers of the gods are pointing at my brain, lying on the table
And the devils enjoy the smell of my guts in the bathtub
And there you see my hopes floating like a pure beast
where am I?
Why do you see me and embrace my soul after all that?
Your eardrum is dull, let's blow it
Or blew my heart after you research its place in the "home"

Xylophone

X marks the spot - teeny fingers tap colors.
Youngster’s attentive to the rainbow bars.
Language of a rambunctious or prissy toddler.
Oscar music songbook exalts experience.
Potent stick and head, of a kinetic hammer,
Hones in on the eight tones, piercing the eardrum
Of the voracious student sounding the glockenspiel.
Newness of counting, colors, pounding, music;
Eyes, ears, and fine motor skills titillated.

4/28/2023
Contest: Writing Challenge - Words with 'X'
Sponsor: Constance La France

Wading Out

Tired of the mind stuff.
It's hard to be free 
of all those words
that drag behind like a long chain,
clinking in the silence. 
Each weighted step leaves evidence,
deep prints beyond the reach
of waves and tide. They stay,
fossilized in stone, stretched back
across time, hanging on
to the heel and added to 
by every taken step.

Think of wading out to the line
of breakers, feeling water
burrow into the eardrum,
offering oceans and fathomless 
depths where only the light 
from exotic creatures punctuate 
the dark with their luminescence 
pulsing along tentacles or dangled
in front of ferocious mouths.
These are the guardians 
of forgetfulness, custodians 
of dreamless sleep in which
even words dissolve
and wait in a nowhere 
to become something
or nothing at all.

Dissident

Who is worthy to challenge the wrongs
He spoke on the air
With connection they heared
With language they understand

He proclaim the ainful manners in him
Spoke the stones of words in him
To quell misused powers
Sending lives to uncoming journey

He spoke the word 
Into the eardrum for man to act upon
No one is ready to make the words meaningful
To these barbaric in nature living

The demagogue never delve into the words
The fire has gone out
Who will quench it? 
The man has be bruise


The fire-hood of this world
Is for only those who can take heart
To be brave and endure 
The pain of the world

Waxing Lyrically With My Sound

Having been lacking hearing since childhood
not completely but without it in full
remember Xrays at six showing irregularity
but nothing could be done where I stood

Only partial deaf on my right side
which was to my detriment to learn
but left school at 15, to be at work
so was still able to work and earn

So many years later hearing grew worse
then got hearing aids from National Health
at first, was helpful but never great
as wax in the eardrum was a real curse

Syringe my ears were now required
as the wax filled my ears so much
but the hearing was very inconsistent
as drastic action now being retired

Now I paid private and went digital
waxing lyrically with my sound
what a difference3 that was made
as I hear words clearly now I've found

So the lesson learned is don't give up
even when you think it will fail
maybe there's something around the corner
to release you from your deaf jail

Summer Song

Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call, 
Its call returned by it’s  beloved one,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.

Harbinger of sweet scented summer squall,
Just before sweltering  summer's done,
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call.

The crow builds nest upon crannied wall,
The cuckoo lays eggs, on its fill of fun,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.

The cuckold's crown to the crows befall,
‘Tis a well-known tale, known to everyone;
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call.

Summer makes me stay in cool and shady hall,
The cuckoos sing, mate merrily in the sun,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.

I’m  sure, like ne’er before, this’ll make a cuckold gall,
As it echoes through street and wayside stall.
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.

~kcm

Tourmaline Birthstone Cycle

October hushes
a cold snap, baldachin for 
red, brown and gold leaf. 
Indian summer waver, Indian rope trick 
sent to douse earthen world shackle.
Bogus heat pump transience.
Polar air mass scatters migrant bird 
on vibrant amber.
Ocean gust saline coated whisper
 to autumn eardrum host.
Nightscape shadows rudely cut across 
the afternoon event space.

Date posted : 19th October 2021

- Hello August -

Summer sun minutes are counted

                          Nature clears space for autumn

                          Man recognizes the colors

                          From green to barn red and gold

                         - fresh impressions and experience

                          Everything will soon be repainted

                          I hear you shout my name ...

                          the eardrum is temporarily closed

                          - not quite ready for fall yet





                           17/08/2021
                           Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
                           Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Small

Death bubbles by
in such a sorrowful state.

A snowflake melting
in the midst of life.

A rusty knife
the tip of which protrudes
to make a third nipple.

Creating nary a ripple
in the scheme of things.
Which brings us to an impasse.

Unobstructed,
Our methodology measures
the in-constitute and volatile breaking of sound?
One cup sound; two cups shatter,
an eardrum rapidly boiled.
Why would it matter?

Death rattles by
Cough Cough choking on 
his chopstick nun-chuck
glory road to Hell.
Did I say for whom the bell
tolls now?
Did I mention that it’s NOT
some sacred cow?

Be silly-still and listen
 to the feeling of guilt
Measure your Mayonnaise Days 
with Infinite Care
dollops of sweetness 
filling you up to the hilt

A Fruitcake Day
in the ordinary life 
of an insect.

An Oceanless Beach

An Oceanless Beach

What is it to see 
but never emerge from the dark? 

Children marvel at color, 
movement, 
perception, 
not knowing 
control mongers await them, 
famished gluttons who relish 
adults obviating consciousness. 

Some risk pain, 
while too few discover 
healing is not a poultice 
to cover a wound, 
but an eardrum, 
an eyelid 
to remedy contrived storms, 
blasts of empty oxygen 
programmed to destroy 
observation's eloquent gift, 
the always present 
sense of truth, 
or not. 

Risk awaits… 

Perhaps muddied, 
but nevertheless 
always at the ready, 
actuality's hardened muscles 
ready to serve, 
to discern platitudes from profundity. 

How courageous 
this willingness to risk, 
knowing to cower 
is to embrace that safe place, 
ignorance's wanton indulgence, 
an anesthetized existence 
on an oceanless beach,
where colorless tears
become desolate in erosion’s sorrow.

Sky High Silence

I hear no ambulances at night
            Secure sleep brings wishes accepted
            When the sirens are whinging
            Sanity slightly, briefly unhinging
            Silence bulges with restful respite
            Rural city living, sanctity protected


            Chatter, coo, call of bird community 
            Bud eardrum with broken two way tune
            Tickle of pigeon scale evocative
            Constant chirps mosaic cooperative
            Chime in with flight twit sweet carefree
            Siren counterpart halts song, confuses


             I hear no ambulances at night
             Tells me that little city sleeps as one
             Metropolis echoes layered havoc
             Rising pitch navigates dense traffic
             Granted nestled peace, place polite
             Midnight rest farewells sirens sung


             Comfort gained without the wonder
             Will the police chase end in tragedy? 
             Whinging sore implore of sirens
             Gradual damagable sanity expiring
             Are you able to roughly number 
             Amount of sirens you heard today?

Blare Witness

Blow blarney bugle blow
The bogus sound waves echo
bifurcated notes
That hollow sting tone
has a subtil serpentine drone

Toot the tout timbre tune deceptively
Let the stealth vibrations
blare witness with utter bandit ease
This covetous instrument
was slyly carved from a money tree

When the heist horn blow,
those with adder ears
let their ostrich eyes close
Be a blind mice in the atmospheric mint maze,
have a deaf eardrum 
to the brass burn rubber sound theft getaway

Blow blarney bugle blow
Carny breath allow the counterfeit air
to fraudulently cash flow
Soon every silent blare witness 
will empty pockets know

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