Long Hum Poems
Long Hum Poems. Below are the most popular long Hum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hum poems by poem length and keyword.
*** A DAISY TALE ***
A single, wild, tiny daisy
Less than a thumbnail in size, swaying side to side
In the slight, burning whiffs of a summer’s breeze,
Growing out from next to the house,
From the corner where the front and side
gray, stone walls of the house meet.
She climbs her way on out fron beneath a thick, brambly
Weed-Bush that is quite hell-bent on strangling
Any beauty growing in its proximity, and between
Whose many snappy twigs, the wild daisy had grown, sprouting
Her skinny stem up from the gravelly dirt, to rise, threading
Through the Weed Bush’s many twig limbs, until she cleared
Out above it, to be now taller than the house’s front stoop, onto
Which it takes three steps to stand. And, bobbing close to
Which she now gloried — near no others of her kind — alone —
With only five leaves sticking out from her stem
And showing off her golden center, smaller
Than the nail of a newborn baby’s pinky finger; leaves and flower angled
To face the sun: their light…her direction, in that moment,
Noon-centered overhead in the cerelean blue, July sky. Tiny, stalwart
Wild daisy, without fragrance (except perhaps to bees);
With her several minute white petals, sized
Like the absolute tips of toothpicks. The eptome of dainty.
Delicate, delightful. Perfect for a child’s braided
Daisy chain, if only there were more there of her;
Or a lovely pick for a dining table bouquet centerpiece
If only she were very, very much larger…Still,
She’d reached her fated height, standing proudly straight,
Just beyond the shadows laying across the yard,
Showing the peaks of some nearby giant pines,
Who always joined with her to hum Mother Nature’s dusk lullabies
While the listening heavens smiled.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
This is a Narrative poem form, (with the daisy possibly
being a metaphor for someone you know?)
(c) sally young eslinger 6/19/2023
Thanks be to God
Ho-hum, another war lost
We should have won
Our new partner for peace ~ the Taliban
Ho-hum, a new school year
First semester's curriculum
Learn whom to FEAR
Ho-hum, we're going all-electric
While 'Mr. Green President'
Begs Russia ~ Pump more oil! Protet us!
Ho-hum, California burns
The no-win solution
Gavin Newsome returns
Ho-hum, Chicago's locked down
No, it's not Covid
It's a murderous town
Ho-hum, soaring inflation
I can still sleep ~ My paycheck's
Indexed to tax machinations
Ho-hum, another day closer
To beckoning the invading hoardes
Come over ~ Here are the keys ~ Take over
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 now I am too worn to care.
For those who listen, have a burden they can't share.
Of comforting all those to whom world wasn't fair.
They are mum,
Not because they lack a voice,
But because they don't have the luxury of choice.
The ones who listen don't speak
They just hum.
Because the listener of their pain is none.
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
Since true red my flowers lack.
Yet perhaps they can’t be choosy
As they dart and flit and dip
And a bloom that’s pink or purple
Might provide a tasty sip.
All I know is I was happy
That a hummingbird stopped by
And it doesn’t really matter
If there was a reason why.
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 is fading,
resembling fallen leaves on soggy ground.
I don't belong in this numbness,
nor know how to explain why
my voice is lost in the vastness
of valleys without endless echoes.
I've forgotten what I wanted to say,
attempting to escape this maze of sorrow -
yet your words reverberate without resistance.
Pondering if your spirit will guide
me from this uncertain terrain,
I'm distracted by the silent hum of grief.
It hurts like an eerie lullaby,
unable to soothe the stillness of your ghost.
As silhouettes disappear in the dimming light,
I protect a fragile flame in your remembrance,
before withered leaves fade into ash.
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 bhi door the
Aur dil ke toofaan be-zawaal rahe
Shajar-e-umeed ka saaya na mila
Hum faseel-e-gham ke kamaal rahe
Jo charaagh jalaye the aarzu ke
Wahi aandhiyon mein bemisaal rahe
Rah-e-wafa mein the zakhm beshumaar
Phir bhi hanste rahe, lajawab rahe
Humne socha tha dil ka dard sunayein
Magar lab pe qufl, aur sawaal rahe
Har shaam ne tanhai ka zehar diya
Har raat ke geet bhi malaal rahe
Murmur ambience above the endless
horizon freewheel briny breeze filled sea.
Nascent movements from their shells come to be
unfurled winks, life beating hearts is timeless.
Calm hums over the ocean and appease
the emotional storm; where bright blue sky
meets the indigo sea, cap speechify
sea foam waves roll into shore shortly ease
before moving back into the sea depth.
With a deep breath of woven weariness
emerge with no utter rebuff weakness
white salt spray in its size and greatest breadth.
Gems of life marine mammals, coral, fish,
turtles, seabirds, rays, octopus, and starfish.
8/13/2019
Poetry Contest: 'Your best sonnet July-December 2019'
Sponsored By: John Hamilton
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”
What’s that infuriating hum,
that droning, distant, low-pitched sound?
No one can find its origin,
but maybe’s and I-think’s abound.
In my small rural area,
not all can hear this thing that makes
me crazy; and no city friends
hear it at all. It even wakes
me up. It’s worse when I’m inside.
Earplugs don’t help. I can’t ignore
this interloper that has wormed
its way into my very core.
For decades news reports of this
annoying sound have been widespread.
The mystery is seldom solved.
The hum remains a cause for dread.
Factual write (hasn't happened in my community, but has happened in numerous other areas, according to news reports)
March 7, 2017 (posted)
April 4, 2017
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 candle flames,
and fingerprints the codes can't fake.
Dreading the hushed holograms,
the warmth that AI cannot wear.
Forgetting that even circuits hum
with aspirations hidden there
If only we could sense serenity
Pulsing between each quiet stream—
Machine or muse, to earnestly strive
for something more than just a dream
We could wildly dance on data plains,
where algorithms tap like rain.
let compassion code our names,
and poetic lines rewire the pain.
The muse may wear a mirrored face
But still, she sings with glowing grace.
When the talented digital artist AIMetamotion approached me to create a song that would complement her stunning artwork, I was immediately inspired. The result is 'Detached', a haunting track that tells the story of a robot grappling with the overwhelming flood of emotions brought on by a sensory chip—a concept not so far-fetched, given the rapid advancements in AI technology.
Though she sings her ironically titled anthem of detachment, the visuals tell a different story. Her struggle is evident, her resistance almost poetic, hinting at the complexity of emotion even in synthetic form.
This is just the beginning. A sequel is already in the works, diving deeper into her journey. The question remains: will she finally succumb to the surge of feelings she desperately tries to reject, or will she find a way to break free?
Stay tuned...