Long Thrum Poems
Long Thrum Poems. Below are the most popular long Thrum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thrum poems by poem length and keyword.
The crickets' constant critching call
Is covered when the raindrops fall.
A sudden downpour, Nature-made,
Did cause their noise to quickly fade.
Much earlier, the grands complained
They couldn't sleep unless it waned.
(The "it" they meant was cricket chatter,
Not the raindrops' pitter patter.)
Though soon they both were lulled to sleep
Into a rest so sweet and deep
That when the chirping chorus drowned
They noticed not the lack of sound.
But I enjoyed the critch and thrum,
As soothing as a noise can come
Especially, when most exquisite,
H & h* are here to visit.
*my grandkids, ages almost 6 and 4
There is a particular
Hush among Trees.
A thrum of Silence.
And empty Sound.
Filled with nothing, True.
This unbroken quiet
remains whole while
pierced.
Crack!
Crunches and slithers.
A caw.
A cry.
Undisturbed by these
disturbings.
We think of peace as
a life without conflict.
We think of quiet
as a time without sound.
Peace and quiet.
Neither need be,
the trees remind,
empty of opposite.
Peace is the Response to
Conflict.
Quiet is the Response to
Sound.
The trees remind...
with every rustle,
with every whistle,
with every creak,
with every croak,
The trees remind.
Hushhh....
Shhhhh...
Shanti.
Shalom.
Full of forest sound,
I find my peace.
sliver of vertical night
visible slit along the curtain centre-line
too lazy to pull them tight
surely nobody outside lurking, peering in
winds rise, branches creak and fight
rattling thud, something moves, somewhere not far away
cosy on the edge of fright
the rain does lash, thrash and thrum on the window-pane
so cuddle in, out of sight
turn toward the pillow, tilted still half-looking
focus drifting, downward flight
eye-lid motion mimics uneasy state of sleep
first birdsong disturbs the doze
veil back-lit as dawn dissolves dim glowing darkness
scan the length, the hanging sweep
beaks announce material folds, suggested deer
expectant, ready to leap
doughy face and furtive shape emerge re-pleating
reality skinny skin-deep
dreamscapes drape the new day with tall tapestry tales
so draw the future and reap
hopeful morning, rays bathing bountiful beauty
as little wings cheer and cheep
clouds pass the sun, grounded feathers in the shadows
don the mask, heave on the cloak
defend against the viral load, heavy breathing
watch out for febrile folk
wild games people play, clandestine intermingling
beware anointed keystroke
shaman, mullah, rabbi, priest, cleric, monk and nun
flames not far below the smoke
guardians of supernatural jealous gods
those who divide, those who stoke
whether hijab, masak or turban, coife or quimpe
jibe, jape or jeer, jest or joke
lives matter much more than statues masquerading
Written: January 1st, 2026 / Music is uploaded to accompany these lyrics
***********
[Verse 1]
Hey boo boo
The rain was the first thing I heard today,
Your beat remains, a quiet thrum in my chest.
I don’t know why it felt so strange—
Like time was a thread we almost let rest.
But something inside me finally opened,
a truth I had hidden too long.
Wherever the night pulls your shadow,
That’s where my spirit belongs.
[Pre-Chorus]
No one can measure the hours,
No one can promise the dawn.
So I’m gonna hold you a little bit closer,
as if every moment is borrowed.
[Chorus]
If the sky fell quiet, I’d stay with you.
If the lights all faded, I’d stay with you.
Let the world keep turning, or let it fall through—
I’d still choose the warmth of your breathing.
Stay until the stars come down,
stay until the stars come down.
I’d stay with you.
[Verse 2]
When the world gets loud, we lose our way,
We miss the mercy that lies under decay.
But you are the quiet in my choice,
The light that keeps the dark at bay.
And even when the winds seem to break us,
I believe that we might survive.
Your name is the place I often return to,
The heartbeat that ensures me I'm alive.
[Pre-Chorus]
Nothing is written forever,
nothing is promised to stay.
So I’m gonna love you with all that I carry,
As if this breath were the last one of the day.
[Chorus]
If the sky fell quiet, I’d stay with you,
If the lights all faded, I’d stay with you.
Let the world keep turning, or let it fall through—
I’d still choose the warmth of your breathing.
Stay until the stars come down,
stay until the stars come down.
I’d stay with you.
[Bridge]
Right here—
Where quiet is a song,
Where your hand erases shadows.
Right here—
where the delicate becomes bold,
And your heartbeat meets mine.
[Final Chorus]
If the world silent, I'd be right there,
If the stars went dark, I'd be right there.
Let the world keep turning, or let it fall through—
I’d still choose the warmth of your breathing.
Stay until the stars come down,
stay until the stars come down.
I’d stay with you. boo boo
Twirling midst, the birds, pink, blue, and green
The town gathered big gowns, fluffed and puffed.
Hairs pinned and beauty queen style
Purple lavender in my trimmings
Hoots! They thrum, louder and closer with every spinning step.
Violins humming pianos orchestrating
Hands on waist, gaze softening, one falling, twirling, fast step to step.
Her scent wafts through her hair.
All on his mind and beyond
Beats fastening colours, curtains, and violins
Lovers, friends, twirling, tapping
Changing, the gaze lingers on the room from afar.
Music softens the ending.
Prinsee slips away to her garden.
I have a friend who has days to live and this situation moved me to write this poem. We can't stop time. But we can make the most of the time we have. Thinking of you.
Life seeping into sands
By Michelle Morris
30/12/2022
When you know the sand is falling
Far too fast to slow it down
You stumble over hurdles
To throw yourself to the ground
Like trying to catch a deluge
As it spills over your hands
The hourglass is broken
Life seeping into sands
Tick tick tick tick
You can hear the seconds fly
The clock seems to be running
Your life is on the line
Your mind constantly races
Your heart beats an erratic thrum
Your pulse has gone to the races
And your soul is getting ready to run
What is it about Death
That has us all so spooked?
We all know it's inevitable
It's the part of life we lose
You cannot delay its passing
For we all have a destined time
The Universe is synchronised
For everything to rhyme
Nothing out of kilter
Or else Fate will blow off course
God has His special plan
And we are His blessed mortals
We were made to learn our lessons
Whatever we decided upon
We knew those sands would hasten
From the moment on Earth we were born
Tick tick tick tick
You can see how close it moves
Until that death knell rings
You have respite until Death swoops
When you know the sand is falling
You see the hourglass at breaking point
There comes a moment of acceptance
For kicking and screaming wouldn't work
Like trying to catch a deluge
As it spills over your hands
The hourglass is broken
Life seeping into sands
But wait a little longer
That life will be cradled soon
Death takes our silver threads
And suspends us from the Moon
And there we look upon
The Universe God made
And angels take us to Heaven
Where we are born again
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Tick-tick.
The countdown starts,
Dreams ignite in hopeful hearts.
Eyes so wide, they cannot stray,
The Florida sky calls them to stay.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
A rocket’s flame,
A silver arrow carves its name.
Thirty-eight years, yet echoes ring,
Of seven souls who chased the spring.
Boom. Boom.
The morning cracked,
A plume of white, the silence stacked.
“What happened?” they cried, young voices shake,
As innocence crumbles with the break.
Tick-tick.
Years roll on,
The shadow of Challenger lingers long.
The children who watched that sky of frost,
Now teach their own of what was lost.
Whoosh.
They tell of courage, of daring flight,
Of men and women who pierced the night.
Their teacher, Christa, who led the way,
To show that learning could touch the ray.
Thirty-eight years, and still they stare,
At launches that climb on Florida’s air.
Thrum. Thrum.
The engines’ beat,
The steady march of human feat.
For every child who saw and cried,
Another rises, their dreams untied.
Boom.
Though skies may fracture, the stars remain,
Calling us upward through loss and pain.
Tick-tick.
The years move by,
But children still watch the Florida sky.
With awe, with hope, with hearts that climb,
Forever bound to Challenger’s time.
He used to pace back and forth like that
while smoking a cigarette and then
when he sat down
he would thrum his fingers
his expression would seem to be other worldly
etched with sadness
I knew instinctively that
he longed for happier days
for he was saddled with a sick wife
and a fourth child on the way
to escape was
his job I'd say
he had a lot to take on as he eaked out a living
still
he had the kind of family that would keep on giving
their support and their love as he toiled and he tried but
in the end he was alone
amd he died.
I barely remember the funeral
but I do
remember being taken to the park
as if this whole episode was merely a lark
I remember feeling lost that day
no strings to bind
angrey and despondant
knowing he left one behind
it was a tradgedy really he was still so young
his life
and our lives
barely begun.
Pearlescent the corneal reflection, on a blind mans eyes
orbs of obscurity, belie a defunct projection of screens
for Eventide is ever present, nuanced beside a braille directory
his mind’s focused on Feral senses, gut instincts, acuity
knowledge of darkness, has built its own safe haven
Plumb lines are useless, if life’s following a ball of string
the Thrum of a moths wings, leads him to the window
fingertips sense the drapes, yet another Crimped reality
fly away little creature, go find your own darkness
you don’t want to be trapped in here with me
with a bittersweet Tang of sadness, the moth is released
Howling into the distance, on a gentle summers breeze
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Embedded and dormant,
they neither wake nor sleep
but defer and endure
until a sun-seeded air
percolates in countless
humming sepulchral lungs.
There is a foretelling,
an imminent rustle of shoveling wings -
the soil erupts,
whirlwinds swarm tree and leaf.
Now begins the cacophony,
the drumbeat of innate necessity.
Wing plates thrum
against chitinous abdomens,
a fretsaw orchestra hollows out
cavities for creation.
Grasping obsessions
become strangleholds of insemination,
then unto death do they pour.
We who sweep away or step upon
their stiffly crinkled corpses,
to our numbed ears comes a solace
as the raucous interlude abruptly ends,
nor do most keep account of the years,
until the next pronouncement
of yet another reincarnation blares forth.