Hum Poems

Yawn, Ho-Hum

    Never been to Norway
        nor to Finland or Sweden
      
     After all, my wife Eve and I
        left the Garden of Eden

Hearing a Hum

It sounds more like a motor 
Than what I would call a hum,
Though a motorbird’s not fitting
As the name that it’s become.

I first heard it at the flowerpot
Before I saw it there,
Dipping in the purple blossoms
Near my green wrought iron chair.

I’m aware that red attracts them,
Like a bull on the attack,
So the visit was surprising

They just hum

I listen to their stories,
And also their vivid theories. 
 I listen of their swords to tears, 
From their triumph to fears.

About their cold nights
About their moments of flight.
About their pains,
And also about the dragons they have slain. 

About their tries,
About their sighs.
About their lows
About their highs.

Why I listen? I am not aware,
Or maybe because

Midmorning Hum

\          l         /
    *   I   R  C *
\ * C my ears L * /
    *  G   N   I *
/  

Threshold Hum

between the hush and the cry
we lean into what we can’t quite tell
to the same

a door ajar, no key in sight
a sigh half-swallowed in the throat
grief is hope with no shame

we neither stay nor fully stray
our shadows dance without a shell
and laugh, as if the blur was to blame



Tesla 3-6-9

rivers hum silently until rage spills

rivers stay silent
happy to hum to themselves
until a rage spills
in torrents, cascades and falls
only quelled in spells of drought

The Horizon's Hum

Vivid
Earth
Naturally
Upholds
Sea,

Sky,
And
Landscape,
As
Zenith
Above
Remains

©bfa052625
Monocrostic (Birthday of Venus Salazar)

Detached - Even Circuits Hum, a music video

Detached - Even Circuits Hum
A Music Video

As twilight turns to tangled thought,
and truth tiptoes down trembling streets.
Once, wonder serenaded willowed winds
now shadows embrace muted retreats
Wary hearts weave walls so wide
against a faceless, coded tide,
while glowing grids in distant bays
bloom haunting weaves they won't embrace

Dualistic stars and digital dawns
Cinematic cradles human ache,
but some still long for

Harrowed Hum

Just as the eve has come
The joy of mourning has become undone
We tell ourselves each day is one
Expectance is the claim of none
A harrowed trail of battled drums
The humming sum of rains to come
Acceptance is the aim to some
While rejection feints the cause of shun
Epiphanies are all but done
The roar of morning has just begun
Harrowed

Tune

 • Hum a little tune
• As you wait for the bus
• When it sings something wretched 
• Don't stir up a fuss 

Hum in silence

Sometimes I regret,
Regret too much...
Been all gray and all out of touch,
My thoughts all around me,
Buzzing like bees,
I'm not too timid but never at ease.

They hum in the silence,
They sting when I breathe,
A storm in my chest
That will not recede.

I reach for the colors,
But they slip through my hands,
A canvas once vivid,
Now lost in the

circles and catcalls

I’m standing in the common room, turning in circles. I’ve so many things to do, all at once, I can’t figure out which way to jump. A time management problem, I suppose, maybe I should have taken that 1 credit
‘project management’ class I sloughed off. We live and we learn.

Leong was sitting, leg crossed on

Slumber's Grace

Softly she slumbers, a vision to see,
A smile on her face, serenity.
No worries or cares, no troubles in sight,
Just peaceful repose, a gentle delight.

Her snores, a gentle hum, a sweet serenade,
Cute and girlish, a symphony to aid,
My heart beats faster, my love grows anew,
In this moment, my heart belongs to you.

Though I may be nothing

Har haal mein hum behaal rahe

Har haal mein hum behaal rahe  
Gham-e-jaan se har dam ndhaal rahe  

Tumhari chahat ki rahguzar mein  
Kabhi khaak, kabhi paimaal rahe  

Na khwab bane, na taabeer mili  
Bas azaab hi azaab ke hamaal rahe  

Dhoop sehte guzargayi sadiyaan  
Shab-e-hijr ke hi sawaal rahe  

Mohabbat ke saahil

Silent hum of grief

My souls mutters in the muteness;
"Is my melancholy more melancholic than yours?"

I gaze across a bridge,
wondering which stream flows to you,
as nobody understands how 
in the definition of lament,
I am a piano without a pianist
and you a harp without strings.

My heart is a weeping willow
within a godforsaken garden.
As the last blossom decays,
the image of you

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