Long Rumble Poems
Long Rumble Poems. Below are the most popular long Rumble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rumble poems by poem length and keyword.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
Pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse
Echooooo, echoooooo, echo
Echo, echo, echo
Shimmer, shimmer, shimmer
Shimmer, shimmer
Pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse.
Tic toc, tic too, tic too, tic too, tic too.
Throb, throb, swoosh, and glimmer
Humming drones craft sparkly saucers.
Blip, blip, blip, beeps, beeps, beeps, beeps
Resonate and oscillate. Vibrate and pulsate.
Undulating Nebula. Reverberating pulsar.
Wailing Quasar. The throbbing void.
The Cosmos echoes. The Cosmos glimmer.
Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh.
Sizzling singularity whispers the secrets.
Of the wailing Heliosphere.
Flaring pulsar with whooshing voids.
The chiming zenith balances rumbling singularity.
Surge, shimmer, wail, whisper, flare, and rumble.
The moon beckons you with its beams.
My UFO shimmers as it drifts into the mystery.
Shimmer, shimmer, shimmer, and sparkle.
Reverberating and gazing at stars.
Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo.
Tic, too, tic, too, tic, too, tic, too.
Whoosh away. Whoosh away.
Whoosh, echo, and shimmer.
The echo rebounds.
The shimmer opens bright eyes.
Whoosh as we fly high.
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
to go out and play.
If your name is D,
D D D D D
It's a beautiful day
for a D through an A
on back to awesome other
DD da-days
to go out and play.
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
to go out and play.
If ya wanna avoid some trouble
and your Trumps are marching double
time, and climates start to rumble
Inside voices in full tumble
It's a great day
to take your butt outside and play
Go on ahead and freely stray
Come back when you're ready to active pray
we learn to cooperate our play
before this last green outside way
was safely felt just yesterday
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
It's a beautiful day
to go outside
this one last tide
to pray and play
a cooperating day.
D D D D day
go on out and play
it's your last beautiful day
to have a fresh breath play.
It's a beautiful night
It's a beautiful night
It's a beautiful night
to spin out of sight.
Oft we hear that trite, well-worn phrase,
"Oh! How I long for those good old days!"
I admit at times I pine for those days and reminisce,
Comparing costs then and now and other things I miss.
You could fill your Studebaker's tank for about a dollar.
If gas exceeded nineteen cents a gallon, my how folks would holler!
Fifteen cents would buy a triple crowned ice cream cone,
And you didn't pay outrageous surcharges for a telephone!
Mr. Sears would send stuff to build a house for a thousand bucks,
Or, for about a thousand more, a splendid beauty far more deluxe!
A car cost about six-hundred bucks if bought from Mr. Ford,
Some with a rumble seat and of course a standard running board!
You'd pay ten bucks for weekly grub, more than you could tote,
And for five bucks, provide each of the kids with a winter coat.
For a nickel a Clark or Power House candy bar could be had.
A quarter would get you to a movie, with popcorn, I might add!
Alas, the cost of living will surely rise for each coming generation.
Fellers smarter than I blame it on something called inflation!
Years from now the grandkids will look back and tearfully recall,
That the house we paid twenty-thousand for wasn't bad at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Ivie Twombley
1884-1913
Lottie Gordon and me were always together.
Joined at the hip, most folks would say;
You never met two ladies quite like us.
If you had known Lottie and Ivie,
The two of us at age 21,
If you had gotten to know us for our real selves;
Wild bachelorettes in french garters,
Roaming the Quaker streets and alleys,
Of Greenleaf, Philadelphia and Bailey,
Seeking out young mammon, and innocent kisses,
As we did quite regularly in 1905,
Why, you would have summoned our parents!
And the Elders of the Friends Church to boot!
Lottie and me were soulful sisters,
And best friends, especially in the snaring arts,
Trapping both wild men and civilized beasts alike!
It didn’t seem to matter one way or the other really,
Not after what happened to Roscoe.
We all knew someone murdered him.
As we both knew everyone hated him.
My Lottie, she never recovered from losing that man.
It seared my soul to see that girl so broken-hearted.
…I think of her all the time, even now in death.
She’s buried across Citrus Road in Clark Cemetery,
Over there by the old toppled stones,
And the high, giraffe-like, desert palms…
…The earth moves, my friends.
It moves without ceasing, without slowing,
We dead people can feel it rumble and grind and twist,
Rumble like an old machine in winter...
… I met my demise at age 29.
I died like Lottie,
Drowning helplessly,
Without being in the water.
And that is that.
March 1980
An insistent internal voice told me take a library book back
I had just sat down after bathing three little girls
I was exhausted
The voice would not leave me alone
I finally asked my husband to take the book back
He refused. Told me we will pay the fine.
Reminded me it was after hours, we would pay the fine anyway.
Insistent internal voice would not leave me alone.
When I got to the library it looked like a rumble.
I was scared. I drove to the far corner of the lot to avoid the screamers.
Before I could leave the lot, the rumble ran to me.
These tall children were screaming and wailing. They surrounded my car.
I rolled down my window thinking I would be dragged out and killed.
But then I noticed these were all girls. Young girls. Teenagers.
I was a woman alone, so they trusted me.
We were following some cute boys and we got lost.
Fourteen girls and not one remembered which direction they had come from.
They were actually a straight shot back to the mall
Where their school chaperones were waiting
As it was nine and they were supposed to meet at nine
when the mall closed.
Luckily I had a super gigantic enormous station wagon
I said jump in, and took them back to the mall
where three school buses and ten worried chaperones were praying.
I know that God had sent me because He knew I would hear.
My husband would have scared them to death.
He is a man, he is six foot tall and large, and scary
unless you know he is a big generous teddy bear.
These girls were terrified.
God knew they needed a small woman alone
with a huge car, and one who would listen to spirit.
I have never forgotten this, and always listen to the internal voice now.
FLORIDA NATURE
Sky-high beech trees tower my head; big parasol to earthly grounds
Sun smiles gold drenching blue skies; warm breeze whish swaying luscious leaves
Nature tickles round brown eyes, blushing rose hugs Eden
Mistrels' tweet beckon ears to hear; classy stork flap it's wings to fly
River running slow, clear as crystals, rumble soft: hush and gush. . .
Bubbly creations, when will you know, our globe a heaven's rest?
Salad fishes darting across~~ watchful fellow shows haunting moves
Jolly chin-up catching around, tumbles along, giggles clang
Hopping squirrel, biting teeth clamps on fish, poor fellow screams!
Yellow blossoms blow fragrant smell; tall green bushes whispered groans and moans
brushing life atop dullness-- left to right then fast and slow
amidst this wild, how will I possess, some innocent eyes?
_______________________________________________________________
***Inspired by Robert Butler's painting: WILD SYMPHONY
3:35 pm, March 05, 2015
In old Jerusalem near cross and sepulcher
Transgressors and confessors searching for a cure
Weary Pilgrims assembled in this place ornate
Guilty, broken, sad, sickened, from life’s heavy weight
Here we remember how our sin once did molest
How selfish deeds and hateful thoughts God does detest
Yet for us sinners Christ in love performed His grace
His sacrificial work makes this a holy place
Somewhere near here religion organized deceit
They drug him to the pavement to make his end complete
Somewhere near here truth was twisted, justice denied
Somewhere near here, misinformed, crucified they cried
Somewhere near here with cruel whip his back was beat
Somewhere near here Rome drove nails in Christ’ hands and feet
Somewhere near here the savior wore thorns for a crown
Somewhere near here the savior’s blood trickled down
Somewhere near here they punctured a sword in his side
Somewhere near here for our sin our blessed savior died
Somewhere near here, hanging shamefully on a cross
Jesus was sacrificed to restore human loss
Here listening to vile words the crowd did sputter
An announcement of forgiveness he did utter
Here on these grounds the lamb without blemish or flaw
Orchestrated the salvation the Father foresaw
The execution done His body was removed
The task was now completed, the Father approved
In a tomb near here his slaughtered corpse was encased
Still, dead, and buried, His accomplishments erased
For three days in the dark of the earth he did lay
While the Sabbath left His friends to mourn in dismay
But on the third day, somewhere near here, before dawn
There came a rumble and He awoke without yawn
Somewhere near here before the daylights detection
Breath was restored in mighty resurrection
The women and the disciples saw him near here
Then to more than five-hundred he dared to appear
I’m quite impressed with these walls and decorations
But they provoke neither joy nor celebration
For I’m on a journey to see the saviors face
And perhaps that’s the lesson of this wondrous place
For nails, nor cross, rocks, or cave can keep Jesus still
Resurrected our savior moves around at will
He will not be confined to places around here
But where ever we go our living Lord is near.
Now, have you ever been ‘caught short’
While traffic-jammed, and can do naught?
You feel the rumble, then you know
That that instant, you've gotta go.
The traffic lights. they all are red,
You play a game inside your head.
And just sit still and hold on tight
The urge to go you’ll have to fight.
Sweat then begins upon your brow,
Oh God, you need to go right now.
You shift around, then with a squeak
Will mention that a loo you seek.
There’s one you know that is not far
But then you are stuck in a car.
The traffic lights are still not green,
You sit and squirm and nearly scream.
You clench your butt, and feel the pain
'Please hurry up, you do complain.
Distract your mind, try not to think
That you are really on the brink.
Leg muscles tense, you sit real still
And fight the urge with all your will.
A fart right now, you must rescind
If done, all will go with the wind.
The only thing’s to concentrate
If you do this, it might abate.
But no, by now your bum’s on fire
For you, there’s only one desire.
At last, the traffic starts to thin
The toilet’s now your grasp within.
You whisper, 'Hurry don’t go slow
Get a move on, go man go!'
To the roadhouse, turn down the drive
Yes, finally, you do arrive.
With no more waiting, find the loo
Relief at last this is for you.
Back in the car you smile then say
'A real close call that was today
No time to spare, I made it though
When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go.'
I see you smile at what I write
Cause you’ve been there, I bet I’m right
balls of lightning
scrape the darkness
off my window
desert hills illuminated
thundering growls
of a grumpy giant
rumble through the night
while my pillow squishes
against my chest
like you
loud huffs and puffs
scatter twigs, leaves and dust
across the concrete
sky's all swollen
and the earth pants
in anticipation
arching up
to meet the clouds
ravished trees rustle
thirsty for so long
dry blades
stand so soo straight
straining to be drownedn¨n
a pregnant pause
while sheets of silent light
splinter into x-rays
of desperation
and fertile longing
she holds her breath
quivering
and the Universe explodes
smashing, crashing
stabbing the ground
splitting it wide open
to swallow torrents
descending drenching
tearing and rending
filling and drilling
penetrating
saturating
soaking and drowning
gasping for air
mad rushing
recedes
into the lulling drizzle
she absorbs
until the moon is gone
mouth so dry
I wake face buried
in the soft folds
of what comforts me
these days
and you're waiting
for the wake up call
you never wake up to
(you know)
rid of thoughts
washed away
it's a new day
Written: March 2nd, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wingbeats on warm whisper wavelength
wasteland, waves of wasabi writhe
with wilting, whimpering, witless wring
whirls and willows whimsically wave.
Emerald pride waves over meadows,
Venetian Barcarole flails and whizz
viridian desires dance onto dales,
Eurydice weeps lost love in auric tears
Dawn draws dwindle, damp dimples.
Of flickering flowers and floating stars
Orpheus, the poet in paint-stained palms
portrays the paradoxes in love,
a roar of zeal and salty air in a blue sky
love stings, even endless moons
In ablaze that seldom strikes
Elysium ethereal elixir of souls.
With such spongy, slippery strokes
soothing serenade in early spring
Thunder rumbles, but cannot shatter
love of Orpheus and Eurydice
Destiny is etched in their stride
as wingless wisps prose sang and swam
Moon loops conflate with wispy vowels
pride is a cornerstone of identity
egos hold a shield of protection
love embraces all they cherish
paired potency, pelt a pound planet.
Akin to operas, rehearsed by singers
their spoof spirals higher in stride
a syzygy of stars in a mellifluous oasis
nurturing nemesis crystals
soar in silky, springy ischemic swings
fetching felicity, as flurry fades
Ignore impulses, let time slip away
still in grip of quintessential propinquity
over a pyre, rainbow Ink swirls
with ethereal wingless, sanguine sighs,
sumptuous zeal stirs the lifeless,
springtide serenades sibyllic sweeps.
As wisteria, spring sequoia, and love slay
weave an aura in vow threads
once serendipity embraces karma
Scarlet moons bleed in a plum sky
still, sustains its sonorous scintilla
at the zenith of wistfulness, uncover bliss
loving endures the rumblings of thunder
hope in its darkest night, never fades
smoothly drifting on brisk wing beats
love is a fruit of tangerine tenacity
love lullaby ignited by stark infatuation.