Long Rumbling Poems
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*And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*
After the red sea, after the red sea…
departing from its great depths,
leaving the death of Pharaoh’s men,
well-oiled chariots underneath…
they're all wet. they’re all wet.
Great sound of Israelites.
Commotion of the sights.
Nostrils of the Creator King;
imagination remains.
The kids in awe,
“Did you see that!? I can’t believe
that happened!” their wrist revolutions
left and right, relive the might.
Their kissers - uttersome wind.
Parents hush them. A bit frightened.
Who is this God…they thought they knew.
This really is the God of their ancestors,
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Still…
They arrived at a place of discomfort.
Thirst suffers…tongue and roof parched.
three days in the desert,
they have not found water…constantly
tested - will they believe…will they believe?
But they, not unlike us, love to complain.
When comfort is outside their brain…
they become most forgetful…they rely
upon their senses — we do too!!!
In Shur, grumbling, rumbling of cries,
“What are we to drink?”
Like little children, they didn’t know.
Like little children, they were not grown.
The water they did find, was bitter -
so were they…they missed the whips
of Egypt- at least they’d get their share
of bread and water. God in His mercy
exchanged bitter for sweet, and his sheep
drank until they hurt no more. There God
tested them with these words:
*“If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God
and do what is right in his eyes,
if you pay attention to his commands
and keep all his decrees,
I will not bring on you
any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians,
for I am the Lord, who heals you.
And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*
9/28/2021
Free verse narrative
*From Exodus 15:22-27 portions directly taken from the NIV
are between asterisks.
Elim is pronounced ay-leem
From Matthew Poole’s commentary:
Palm trees were both pleasant for their shade, and refreshing for their sweet fruit. Thus the Israelites are obliged and encouraged to the obedience commanded, by being put into better circumstances than they were under in their last station.
Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes thoughts from long ago
Prophecies of a past, that could halt us humans flow
Tablets scribed in gold, have been uncovered in Peru
For in them they tell of the future, surrounding me and you
We await with fervour in the media, the radio and the t.v.
As I try to get my head around it, and what it means to me
The day that they speak of, it's a little over a year
Do we just laugh if off, or do the sensible in us fear
As I drive through my city, towards this impending day
The street corners start to fill, does panic have it's say
Speakers start to recite, of this doom that welcomes we
I see suicides in escalation, jumpers in front off me
Families leave their homes, for they no not where to go
Panic buying surrounds me, anarchy appears to flow
We now reach December 2012, as we gain on the scribed day
Can it be all that was written, have the ancient had their say
My eyes catch the clock, midnight is awaiting it's strike
It'll be the twenty first of December, are the Mayan scribes right
The minutes pass the hour, everything appears to be normal
Maybe the writes are fables, to them simply formal
To pacify myself, will it be the radio or the t.v.
Sometimes one has to ask oneself, to simply look and see
Visions on the screen appear, many screens my eyes do view
Reports from many countries are brought to me and you
They show events of nature, more fierce than naturally so
Rainfall in arid areas, deserts in metres off snow
The Polar ice caps start cracking, exploding ice in crying break
Mudslides now carry cities, everything caught in their wake
Bangladesh now no longer exists, the Maldives have disappeared
The Mariana Trench now starts to rise, her ridges in rampant rear
A bulletin catches my ears, Yellowstone has started to erupt
Is this what the scribes have warned of, our planet being so abrupt
A rumbling I start to feel, where I stand I feel I move
I'm in tumble across my floor, in fear of their impending prove
My apartment on the only hill, allows through my window to view
A giant fissure slices through my city, for into it, buildings spew
The free ways now broken and torn, many cars in tumbledown
From here I hear the screaming voices, I'm deafened by their drown
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
Lickety-split, I sit up and look at the clickety clock,
oh my gosh, why am I lollygagging in this cozy bed;
I am going to be so late for dance class, I better skedaddle,
so I canoodle my cats (hugs and kiss that is);
and like a flash I am out of bed!
Oh dear, what a rigmarole of unnecessary complexity,
I run to the kitchen and open a tin of, oh so stinky fish;
for the fur balls, (no accounting for taste,) my tummy rumbles,
I dress in my pink dance pants, brush my teeth;
I look in the mirror, holy macaroni!
I was going to wash the mop last night but didn't,
oh well, the flat iron turns me into a Cleopatra star;
then, I look outside, snow, lots of snow, blast I need boots,
oh yes under the bed where I flung them;
what a stupid kerfuffle!
Walking to dance, a bus sprays with me with slush,
darn nincompoop, I am thinking to myself and then;
a loud honk, and a car roars pass me, I almost have a stroke,
I finally make it and the receptionist says- cancelled,
cancelled, oh la-di-la, that's great!
I am walking back home when I step into a deep puddle,
and my feet are now soaking wet, I am just exhausted;
I will crawl back into my bed for a snoozle I say to me self,
but I am waylaid by my old fuddy-duddy neighbor;
dearie,(she whips out a grocery list)!
You know, I cannot walk in the snow, meantime her cat,
a fat Persian rubs my legs and I have fur from knees down;
but what can a girlie do, I turn around and hocus-pocus its done,
finally, I am standing in my bedroom all tatterdemalion,
like a child in rags, I feel like weeping!
And then I notice the collywobbles in my tummy,
like butterflies swirling, and then a great rumbling;
oh, damnation, I need something to eat, so I gongoozle,
stare that is, into the refrigerator, close the door, slam;
and grab a handful of cockamamie cookies!
_________________________
January 26, 2017
Poetry/Narrative/Lickety-Split
Copyright Protected, ID 17-8691-18-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest , Any Poem Written in January 2017
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
I slash with my sword and I push with my shoulder. Every muscle and every tendon is screaming in agony. I can feel every pressure when my blade makes contact. I’m grunting with passion as I push every extremity to the very breaking point. I let my mind wonder to the past, where my family was butchered and mutilated when I was 10 years old. I lost everything I loved and anything that mattered to me, but my passion. Revenge echoes in my mind over and over, like the rumbling of thunder in the summer storms when they pass. Revenge against those who could do the things I’ve seen, beasts that slaughtered my whole family. I have spent years here, learning the warrior’s way, feeling the grunge and toils from everyday training.
My sword is now a part of my body, so swift and true. I can draw it sharply and silent to bring it up my enemy. I spin my body and crouch down low, dodging my enemy and thrusting my sword into his chest. My body has become one single weapon for me to use. My mind is sharp and ready for the challenges of all those who oppose me. I will fight for honor and what is right and damnation to those who are evil and selfish. In the distance a voice echoes in my ears, “Piiid!” “Pid!” This sound grows louder as I strain my muscles and sharpen my skills. “PIIIDDD!!!” “HAULT!” and then I realize that master Baracus has been calling me. Turning around, I see Baracus standing there with a puzzled look on his face. He is a tall elder man with a chiseled chin and scars across both cheeks. His skin tone is deep red from the Sun’s scorching heat of the day. His balding head has traces of white hair around each side and the tunic of a trainer is all black with gold trim. His deep blue eyes gaze upon me in frustration, “You must focus on all things around you Pid, you will leave yourself open to attack without it”.
Baracus turns to walk towards the shelter as he mumbles various curses at me. “You young bucks have no attention and focus” as he slowly walks to sit down. “I was focused on my training you old goat” I persist. As we both sit down, he makes his brittle response, “Damn young blood makes poor fertilizer for our fields” as we both bellow with laughter. He is my mentor and trainer, but most of all he took me in and called me his son. He has trained me in the way of the warrior and what it means to be honorable and noble.
I could tell from the look on his face that things were not going his way, the numbers have been overwhelming but the people have been deceiving him; some people with bad intention tells him what he wants to hear but the reality is finally drawing near and redemption is shouting at the window but I could not tell from whence came that unpredictable sorrows.
The luster has gone out of his face and there was no music in the place and the universe was beckoning him to come. But he was reluctant to move. For one brief moment my eyes met his and the pupil and the retina began to sing without a specific rhythm. Something was not right and all of a sudden a shadow stood by his side and covers him.
The evening drags on and he stumbles along. He stands on the stage with a strange look in his eyes as if someone for him had just died, his droopy eyelid sagged and the hair on his head lay flat and the suit that he was wearing laid haphazardly on him as if he was drinking.
The strength and power have gone out of his voice and the purpose has already die and the people were screaming and shouting but he could not hear them. He stood and stared blindly at them as if he wanted to cry but the tears could not flow.
The night kept rumbling on and I could hear a distance song but I could not tell where it was coming from. I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t have enough strength to complete the race. He was just going through the motions with solidarity in his heart but from the look of things he was running out of steam. The jokes were gone and his words were falling on the ground and the message was nowhere to be found.
I could tell from the look in his eyes that the rivers have gone dry not one single tear could be found in his eyes; the people's laughter have faded, the shouts and screams have died down and gossip starts circling around. Election was definitely not on his agenda something bigger than that had captivated his mind.
I have never seen him like that before with that sad droopy look on his face, you had better take him to golf court to recuperate before he drops out of the race.
I could tell from the look on his face that he detests being in that place and he was just going through the phase. Reality is just setting in and he has committed a woeful sin. It is time to start the orchestra.
She storms into the room
there is fire in her eyes
and thunder in her step
rage rumbling reckless
She's livid
a live wire of fire
charged
She's on the move
To punish
Is it a rumor or reality?
He has explaining to do...
She rushes at him
Pounding on his chest
words pent up all day
rush out in deluge
drenching him
he tries to pin her hands down
to make her understand
to undo this "misunderstand"
but she pushes him
her pride scorching him
her eyes sparking
passion raging
~~~R*A*G*I*N*G~~~
He pushes her against the wall
pins her hands above her head
"Listen to me!
You got it all wrong!!!"
she pushes against him
breasts heaving
legs kicking
and he's inflamed
her passion burns him
combusts in his mind
and he crushes her with his body
she bites his lips
as they close over hers
he loses his grip
her fingernails dig into his bare chest
trails of red
Growling in pain
He forces her....
kicking and screaming...
down to the floor
Pins her again
"Listen! WOMAN!"
She looks up into his face
breathless
and he goes for her mouth again
Taking her lips into his mouth
sucking fiercely
his tongue tames
fierce...his need to possess
to claim
She fights to free her hands
and they are on his neck
Pulling him in...in
Her lips respond in like
his hand finds her hair
leverage...a grasp
he pulls to expose her neck
And he attacks
kisses...bites...His revenge
His innocence turned to intensity's indignation
she sighs...she moans...
the sounds goading him on
As he loses himself in her cleavage
licking up her perfume
His favorite scent...
sensuous sexy sweet
the storm is fever pitch
in a flash of lightning speed
He lies her bare
and thunders in the thighs
she opens for him...wide
eyes closed
she bites her lower lip
to muffle her cries
as he rides....rides
His victory ride of righteous pride
and she's left
breathless...spent
in a storm of tears
released...repentant
of her insane jealousy
the storm passes over
and in the stillness
he speaks...
his voice shattered...weak
in her presence now calm
meek
"Your anger is beautiful
your rage my relish...
but now...come,"
His voice a whisper
as he pulls her in to him
"Come into my arms
and know the truth....
You're my one and only
My Passion STORM
Is YOU....YOU
Serenity...is overrated."
I forgive the stars sleeping in nothingness,
too afraid to embrace eclipsed spheres…..
In the midst of sweltering gloaming,
I ascend, obscured and tarnished,
like a tainted trinket lost
in the tangerine haze.
For I’ve long been burning
from the coals of stigma~
stamping labels upon troubled torrents,
using malignant metals,
mirroring the fear within lichen eyes,
consumed by ancient
arrows of anguish~
from the era of Hercules and Midas.
But if only they knew, there is
no remedy for the jaded jewels that
refuse to sparkle,
for my purity remains unseen in
growing darkness,
oblivious to the liquid gold
that flickers compassion,
as they see not
beyond their fractured vision.
O distorted colors of the sun,
I’m not your perplexed perspective;
I breathe in hues of humanity,
infused with luminous lavender.
I’m not a Medusa siren luring you
to serpentine rocks;
I swim in chromatic, evanescent streams,
brimming with blissful bioluminescence,
illuminating my way under the midnight sky.
I’m not the suffocating wintry winds
freezing oxygen in your lungs.
While it seems your tongue is silenced
and tied to the twisted strings
of broken instruments,
I ink words of hope and
empathy upon your cynical skin.
I am more than the blind rage
seeping in fury.
I’m not a heartless harpy
screeching into the emptiness~
drenched in despair,
pushing boundaries to
the ends of the earth.
I am Atlas holding the world on
his shoulders,
I am the glistening stars aching
to touch the silver ring around
the jasmine moon.
But life is like a helix fixated
on unconscious bias,
constantly critical of diverse dialects,
watching me struggle to stand
under the weight of pressure,
knees buckling as your assumptions
lacerate me, breaking me down,
burying me in your ruthless riddles.
I feel rumbling dirt beneath
my bleeding feet.
My sarcophagus is rising,
built from your putrid ideals of me.
Losing footing, I refuse to fall into
the seething seas of sorrow.
So remember, I was never
the soulless monster hiding
beneath your ignorant bed.
But I am now the skeletons
etched within the cataclysmic
aftermath of your
shallow misconceptions.
I am just coming off the big stage that was erected for this vibrant age. The energy is still lingering in the ground and the honey bees are still buzzing around; something special took place at united center last night that send the people wild, heaven was cruising with paradise on earth and the people were dancing their hearts out and the world embrace each other close to the midnight hour. Everyone had this catchy rhythm in their feet and the ladies dressed in white looking like young brides some as old as eighty brought back the suffergate movement of the early nineteen century to life. The women were looking smart and happy as they occupy the center of the building and, the whole place resembles congress makeover. Lousi was there staring at the little starlight floating around in the atmosphere; her eyes were fixed on it and her mind was fading with it, what on earth was going on, it was like a party was transpiring on the lawn outside but it was the protesters in the park rumbling with the officer in the dark and the celebration went on and the music rolls on and the speakers enters the stage one by one igniting a thunderbolt across the center and everyone catches on to the fever, some were short and spice, others were long winding and heavy, but it did what it had to do to make the mistress day come true, the celebration mounts with screams and shouts and bickering around and the journalist filled the gap with interview across the floor as the patron called out for more.The momentum continue to build and the multitude in the center begin to chill, I was feeling the energy too but I did not know what to do, and sweat starts oozing out of my flesh and in seconds all my clothes was wet and the energy in the center began to circulate all the way to the gate and the momentum built higher and higher, And when she could not resist it, she came on the stage, the crowd went out of control and flags were waving across the floor and the people kept asking for more, the balloon came down and spread all over the floor and the momentum began to spread like wildfire in the wilderness; keep the momentum going and nurture it with your feeling, keep the momentum going and get some spiritual healing, keep the momentum going and hit the road in a brand new pair of shoe and destiny will tell you what to do.
Aching
aching deep within
reaching out beyond the veil
never forgotten
All Aboard
body and soul combine
for the ride of a lifetime –
no return tickets
Am I me
I think I am me
I think, therefore, I am me
I am me I think
Astral Womb
astral absorption
blends life continually -
soul's evolution
Bloodless Bond
born not of Mother
parent of necessity
destiny fulfilled
Coming up Trumps
sharing true friendship
noisily expelling gas
no inhibitions
Conception
blending of spirits
natures nectar decanted
life's vessel refilled
Deep Silence
deep silence roars out -
in straining to catch whispers
no one can hear it
Destiny
deep thunder rumbling
silence envelopes the land
destiny draws near
Empty Noise
dry branches snapping
summer glory now faded
still tries to impress
Eternal Moments
past, future, present
moments form eternity
time stays forever
Eternity Beckons
body discarded
spirit struggling upwards -
too late to grow wings
Eternity
union of birth
individualism
union of death
Free Spirit
thundering of hoofs
freedom’s stampede of delight -
spirit unbroken
Insight
foggy perception
clarity of direction
avenues open
Night Fright
cloud creeps across moon
night whispers it's mysteries
concealed in darkness
Pendulum of Life
living in boredom
soul screams for activity
turmoil requires rest
Pendulum’s Swing
regularity
exist in cloud cuckoo land
life's pendulum swings
Pendulum’s Ride
enjoy all the ups
enjoy the extremities
enjoy all the downs
Post Mortem
Going through the veil -
Once life’s journey is a tale
Did your faith prevail
Self Pity
beyond human sight
loved ones find eternal joy
why does my soul ache
Time for Time
life's pathways beckon
moments joined into ages
cloaked by time's mantle
Time’s Call
friends not forgotten
re-union approaches
time's pathway beckons
True Vision
though vision is clear
perception can be blinded –
truth is in the soul
Senyru:
Perception
perception
is reality
apparent
Poets Write
poets write
spilling blood as ink
makes one think
Ivor G Davies ©
What have you done with my beau, I want take it to the show. What have you done with my beau, it time for you to go. What have you done with my beau; I want it back on the show. I like its style, it rhythm is wild and its voice makes me want to smile. What have you done with my beau? I need some explanation before you go.
The grand serenade is on and the big band is on the stand, hip-hop music celebrates fifty years on the land. Oldies and goodies, reggae and streggay, heavy metal, and modern music, romance and classical sounds are on the list so join me to share this special gift.
What have you done with my beau? Everything is in the bag for everyone to feel glad, your sorrows and pain will go away and you won’t have to suppress your emotion for the rest of the day.
What have you done with my beau? It is time to get ready for the grand musical mix. I have not seen my beau all week, it is so discrete, it could be lurking in the room next door but it’s time to bring it out on the dance floor.
Forget the musical hymn and let go for a ride in the gym let’s listen to each other’s heart and romance like lover do in the dark, and watched the curtains come up and the crowd grows wild when the serenade starts.
What have you done with my beau?, the buercrats and the autocrats have crowded the dress circle in the theater , the Italians and the Germans are in the audience and the Austrian and Norwegians prelude is riding in the heavens. The Russians are in the mix too and they have a score that if sang from the heart will take you out of the gutters.
What have you done with my beau?, it is embedded in the show, take me back in time to learn what is divine. The voice of Mozart rumbling in the strings and spirit of gran partita riding in the winds, nineteen century serenade will do ,Tchaikovsky, Josef Suk, Edward El Elgar Ludwig van Beethoven, Hector Berlioz, Franz Schubert, Richard Strauss, and other serenades are on the list for that special moment when my beau and I become one and the musical pleasure will be our distant song.
Everything will fill the air and fine heart will touch souls far and near. Spirits will meet, hearts will greet and the birds will sing again. We will join as one and this eternal bliss will be our destined song. My beau is back, let's go and see the show.