Humming on a drum, with a wire-brush swish.
Habit hugs hesitation, with whispered, "You Wish!"
Hope wears its slippers, shuffling on all day.
Hurry leaves hindsight with nothing to say.
Hearts keep on wishing their tomorrows away.
Hum is a habit, while dem drums dance and sway.
How did this conundrum, become this humdrum?
Too much work
Too little outcome
As if trying to hold water in a fork
And the worst is yet to come.
I rush here, I rush there
But the roads I take lead nowhere.
Everybody asks for more care
And nobody tries to be fair.
When can my mind have some peace?
When can my body have some rest?
Will my worries ease and decrease
And will everything turn for the best?
What have Tests become
Not really a conundrum
The game’s true fulcrum
To beach bum humdrum
Cricket now plays dumb
Kowtow to cash cow scum
To T20 aplenty did succumb
Moolah the ruler in this slum
Seduced reduced simulacrum
Absurd but heard the word’s still mum
Batters in tatters another LBW plum
Chickens no bantam baby tantrum
Same silly song will willy nilly strum
A dastardly turns bastardly doldrum
Forget regret best bet rule of thumb
Rank dank stank so glum & then some
Beat the drum or Tests simply overcome
Stark dark depths these guys lies do plumb
No comfort for our sport not even a crumb
Our sort annoyed destroyed in Pink Floyd void
In perverse parallel universe worse is to come
So ho hum reeling feeling “uncomfortably numb”
Where the humdrum ends
A morning waits when roosters crow in vain,
and stunned eyes are awed by the rising sun.
When nostrils savor the dewy terrain,
as ears tune in to magpies’ chirping fun.
Soon a dawn will bloom and change the asphalt
To hordes of marigolds across lush leas,
where squirrels scramble and leporids vault,
while laughter echoes under maple trees.
There must be somewhere far from the black smoke,
beyond the traffic drone and ticking clock,
beneath the soothing shade of the white oak,
where the grass grows along the freedom walk
There, breeze and soul befriend, and humdrum ends
to trend a new era where life transcends.
Humming is monotonal monotony
What if much of life's lost to humdrum world?
To waste get withered when simplest of joys,
Nature's rare scene when finds none of your voice,
Innocent, pure pleasures pass by unfurled—
Beauty of dawns, dusks, daises decked in dew,
Hills and dales crying for our company,
A gentle cool breeze gets when none her due,
And goes unheralded birds' symphony,
Sea bares when breasts to embrace silver moon,
Raw passion peaks of a youthful river,
Clouds play with moon new joys to deliver,
Seasons when change, sun warms when wintry noon.
At home with the ho-hum of humdrum leisure,
Man plays blind to nature's many a pleasure.
_____________________________________________
Sonnets | 05.04.2004, revised Sept 2022 |
Poet’s note: Man seems so much at home with the humdrum of life that he is oblivious of nature’s joys that can excite and inspire him. All he has to do is to be a little more receptive. One gets this impression on seeing the world chasing the ephemeral, fleeting, and man-made joys.
I have wondered about mundane things
Would they have become spectacular,
Noteworthy, perchance, balls of strings
If given purpose, a splendid piacular?
Not everything is special and/or pristine.
Actually, most things are commonplace
Not everything is a finely-tuned machine
Like the works behind the watch’s face.
So much of life, I think, is run-of-the-mill
Which accounts for same ‘ol, same ‘ol.
I am inclined to believe boredom relates
To an impetus to achieve a desired goal
It’s not good to leave life to the fates.
Written July 17, 2022
This merciless break of Man's loose authority.
The individuals who are fearful of their own mortality.
A few fields generate a plentiful supply.
Field rabbits live for a brief time and then die.
Specific work makes a huge rich zone.
However, the depth of the covert harm has grown.
Work could be just around as quiet as a burial ground.
Discouraged men are displayed in this round.
The sumptuous yield from the fields has run short.
Since trees are harmed at the root.
There is a cycle in the normal system.
Several critical bursts are humdrum.
As though waves were moving across the river
Its excursion crosses the ways to drive over.
Written: September 9, 2021
Are you one of those people that sees the things that I see?
A cheap laugh for no reason, pathetic point scoring constantly.
Are you someone who ‘does’ or someone who ‘does not’? Why is it that the ones who seem to do nothing always rise to the top?
The ‘work life balance’ and all other corporate lies! The people with no life who just work through the day and the night.
The volunteers who work harder and harder and longer for no pay! I get paid by the hour and when my times done I walk away.
I broke away to be a contractor so I could just get the job done. Leave the egos to their meetings and their bull humdrum.
Humdrum encounters of aging:
I walk clouds in a vision of epiphany
glaring cavillingly at a world beneath me
peeling back scabs of failure
a negative spiralling albatross;
a wider perspective of clarity confronts
“life’s too short for this crap ”
Reading, eating, watching, writing –
Such is life, not too exciting.
Cleaning, texting, sewing, walking,
FaceTime phone calls or just talking.
Hearing, seeing, tasting, smelling –
Nothing lately’s so compelling.
Solving crosswords and debating
How much longer we’ll be waiting.
Writing, watching, eating, reading –
All the basics that I’m needing.
Walking, sewing, texting, cleaning –
Man, I’m sick of quarantining!
Never
clever
_____________________
Carrie Richards - 7//7/15
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.