Long Thump Poems
Long Thump Poems. Below are the most popular long Thump by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thump poems by poem length and keyword.
Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers don't grow deaf,
they become deeper, more blunted,
like mallets.
His apartment is disorderly,
tools and equipment
are hidden in Dresden figurines,
in elderly Delftware,
ball-peen hammers crammed
into the whittled stems of goose quills.
Augers, grinders and rotary tillers
are rendered into themes and motifs.
Wrecking crews hum and stamp,
tables thump out allegro dissonance.
Into this din and demolition
plows a heavy sonata
the hard-nosed 'Hammerklavier'
bulldozing its trenchant path
into the cramped streets;
where in the absence of safety barriers,
a defiant deconstruction
has begun.
.
Oh
Okay
for that instant
mine tramp’d
yep
Yet
mine
Step
Thump
Steps
Thump
Thump
Thump thump thump
Thump’d
‘Cauze’uh hern
aight
‘twere mine
torso’z thump’n
thump
Yet
“‘Cauze’uh hern”
brother’z
grunt
shnap
Through the window, I gaze.
Onto a tangled Dead Sea of black towers,
In this manmade night I see you there.
In the silhouette of the dreams and electron streams.
The city sores before me, break like thunder upon these optics.
I focus on the horizons jagged steel and monolithic gears.
Blurred my vision seared, Cold light falls, The city crawls.
Thump and hum, My vision sears, Cold light falls.
And the city crawls, Thump, rattle, and hum.
The steady beat of a city in chaos.
Of immortal work, I see her in passing glances.
Hot intricate stares. They tread daily to and from work. The city masses march in time to the metronome.
A Void built under this glass dome.
All light is cold and harsh in these hard eyes.
The work of the machines grinds steadily on. I watch the helicons fly!
Thump and hum, I see it clear. Order in a sea of chaos.
Delicate light in the darkest shadow. Amidst the mechanical heart, fears.
Feel the cold of rain white light. Eyes blind. I hear her sound. I feel her warmth. Blur in the electron stream. Of data and machine parts. Still in my heart, eyes of once clear blue sky. Now only frozen ice. They are of cold white light. Her face pure innocence. I watch the OIL run in stark contrast.
To her alabaster skin I trace the clear path. I taste the hidden sin.
My head pulses in time to the metronome,
Her smell is soft intricate,
I wonder at her passing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
God’s Saving Grace
Sudden flashes of lights
Brings me out of my fog
I panic slamming the brake
Still to close
I gear down
Hearing the skidding tiers
Smelling rubber
Overwhelmed by terror
Traffic coming from both directions
I grip tight to the wheel turning it
To the left on a two way street
I glance to the right of my vision and see
I’ve Leaping into the path
Of an oncoming truck
Feeling completely helpless
Knowing it was going to hit my right side of my car
I glance forward to the sight of a ditch
I turn the wheel left to avoid going in
I Hit gravel
Then a thump back on the road
As the steering wheel is jerking left to right
Right to left out of control
At that moment
I see my son in a vision
Watching the terror he went through
Avoiding a deer and running into a pond
A few years back
At that moment
God stands as my Master
With arms out stretched
God takes control of my world
He reaches out
Pushing the truck away
To the right to avoid hitting me
The truck is forced into an oncoming car
God reaches out to the left and stopped it
He takes hold of my world
And takes control
Of my steering wheel
And safely makes me come to a stop
On the side of the road
Facing the wrong direction
I sit in shock shaking uncontrollably
Marveling the miracle
That had just happen
I pulled in safely into a driveway to calm down
I make the sign of the Cross
And whispered prayers of
God saving grace
Because He took control
I didn’t have the skill
To do what I did
Three days later I’m still in tears
Of the nightmare
I went through
A movie being playing over and over
Of a vision of God stretching out His arms
Guiding everyone
I’m blessed with the relationship
I have with God
Believing in His miracles
His guardian angels
Archangel Michael
© 7/3/2015
Thump!
Something fell in the garden
With my electric chair
I went to investigate
Then there in the sand
It was a bird barely alive
With a fatal wound to the head
Without knowing it I grabbed it
And raced with to the vet
Against oncoming traffic
I was frantic
I got the gate closed
The caretaker was on the inside
I told him to open the gate
For I have a seriously injured bird
He said that he was sorry
They don’t take care of birds at all
I was devastated
The sparrow died on my lap
On my home I was mad
Because of my country that
Is still a developmental state?
It sucks to spend some time in the third world
I buried the sparrow in the backyard
He was a tough little fellow
Rest in peace my friend the sparrow…
Come on! Is that the best blast you've got?
Your thunder tantrums don't scare me - Your flash and flare they're half hot!
I love this dunder, blunder, thunder, and underhand rumble-in-the-jungle!
Touché! Olé! We're duellin' again with fork-pronged lightn' sparkling lances.
Clang! Bang! Ker-pow! Ker-plunk! Ker-thump! - Your thunder's late by years!
I flash, bash, smash, crash, gnash — while your Ker-boom goes boom blah, blah, Ahah!
Your quick flashback, claptrap wisecracks come back five seconds late.
Bolt after bolt, your jolts, revolts, cheap-shots and pot-shots hit my ear flaps.
All roar, no score, no gore, no nosebleeds — just air stabs in ionized air.
By then your temper, torage, outrage, out in the garage is binned — You lost!
You ain't learned nothin' from last night's plate-a-smashin' dry run.
Oh No! Don't let the rain come down!
We're both having far far too much fun!
You can't resist, can you — spoiling the perfect row —
By making up, way, way, way ..... too soon!
In the calm spaces of thump ripples
three gossamer shadows gather,
each a whisper of what once was,
three stories spilled,
but which is true?
The first speaks of love,
its tender seed sown,
nurtured in a guffaw,
but fear grew wild,
a vine gripping heartstrings,
dimming the sunlight of shared days.
The second, a tide of maim,
pulls memories like driftwood,
twisting truth into knots,
the biting bitterness beckons
where sweetness silently soared,
peril paints a symphony of scorn.
And then, there lingers a lull
a third tale, temptingly untouched by time
teeming with the tension of absence
where shadows dance chaotically,
and the heart aches for gasping,
but the pages remain unwritten.
Oh, how views can splinter like shards!
in this kaleidoscope of shores,
some forget the bridges,
prefer to carve their own,
with axes of anger,
overlooking the opulent warmth
within the walls that welcomed them.
Beneath the fabric of any fray
cradles the gentle shell of dreams
every edge an enigmatic element
lingering in the loss,
but those who stow away the shards
miss the beauty of the mosaic.
We of the human chase—
strolling through a flawed frontier—
drift like delicate dew,
dancing and dissolving
never quite catching a glimpse,
of how one heart
pulses in utopian synergy with another.
Tornado blew Dorothy Gale
Across Kansas, her house took sail
Landed with a bug THUMP
On evil witch's rump
I'll try to fill in some detail
Wicked witch got down and dirty
Saying, "I'll get you, my purty,
And your little dog, too.
You killed my sister shrew
Just outside Emerald City!"
Little Munchkins shouted, "HOORAY!"
Then, "Dorothy, go down that way
The road of yellow brick
Hurry, you must be quick
The cruel witch will make you pay!"
So, off she and pup, Toto went
Wondering where she had been sent
This place she couldn't stay
Kansas was far away
On getting home, she was hell bent
Along the way, she met these three
Scarecrow, lion, and tin man, he
was rusted, couldn't speak
Had need to take a leak
She oiled his 'parts' so he could pee
To the Wizard they had to go
Through a poppy field in the snow
For courage and a heart
Brain to make Scarecrow smart
To get Dorothy home, he'd know
But the wicked one said, "No fair!"
And sent her monkeys in the air
To kill the lot of them
It was utter mayhem!
Oh, We Oh. It caused quite a scare!
Toto proved the Wizard a fake
What a commotion that did make
What would Dorothy do?
Glenda to the rescue!
For the child, she did not forsake
She bid farewell to her new friends
The journey gave them dividends
She loved each one of them
But sadly, missed Aunt Em
Almost where this fairytale ends
Glenda waved her wand to entreat
Ruby slippers upon her feet
A click of the red heels
And Dorothy's appeals
She was back in Kansas, Toot Sweet!
Within the shadow of the crystal spires,
Where plains are painted by the frozen fires,
The field-logs track a monument of mass:
The heavy monarch of the golden grass.
Magnatropis vitreus is cataloged and known,
A living fusion of the quartz and bone,
A mountain walking on a six-fold frame
Of polished obsidian that no tool can tame.
Its segmented chassis, wide and heavily set,
Is wrapped in a translucent exoskeleton net,
A diamond-hard carapace, shimmering clear,
Through which its strange organs and vitals appear.
Its blood is a coolant of sapphire sheen,
Pulsing through valves that are easily seen,
While its eyes are bright clusters of compound gems—
Red ruby lenses on low-slung stems—
That do not track distance or predatory flight,
But map out the currents of deep quantum light,
Perceiving the drift of the space-time strand
As it sweeps through the grass of the perfect land.
Yet this titan of armor and crystalline skin
Is not built for malice, for war, or to win;
Its purpose is vital, a biological gear
That stabilizes the local biosphere.
Along its ribbed flanks, where the plates interlock,
Are rows of deep pores carved like vents in a rock.
It breathes in the nitrogen mists of the night,
The volatile vapors that choke out the light,
And filters the toxins through chambers of stone
Deep in the vaults of its vitreous bone.
With every slow breath of its massive domain,
It breathes out sweet oxygen over the plain,
A massive, organic, atmospheric pump,
Clearing the air with each heavy-set thump.
As it browses the plains where the light-flora grows,
It crushes the minerals left by the snows,
Its six grinding hooves tilling silicate sand
To scatter the nutrients across the ground,
A peaceful leviathan, quiet and grand,
It is the gardener-beast as it moves around.
I was a stoner in a coma mercifully sweet
up for good humour and friendly greet
changed into someone more likely to beat
thump kick and stomp fighting the weak
I had stoner friends with paranoid brains
and jealous mates who were partial to blame
letting ideas spawn from sophism claims
delivered by a stranger playing a game
that stranger my boss telling my friend
things false and fallacious intent to offend
slander me to colleagues was her daily trend
reaching beyond work to see bonds end
isolating me at work and my social life too
my boss and my best mate missing a screw
daily discrimination the mate said aint true
dwelling on rumours whilst treating me rude
he shared with his brother stories she told
a brother already living bitterly cold
accepting the worst and easily sold
behaving beheaded with hatred his gold
all of this mistreatment morphing my mind
reaching for help nowhere to find
blinded by focus on my bosses crime
finding it hopeless as losses inclined
personality vanished and I'm unemployed
my life fully shattered completely destroyed
yet when telling mates they'd get annoyed
still seeking out truths in her stories deployed
My boss won the Battle Of Malicious Mouths
and whilst she's forgotten friends still doubt
watching me drown in a kindness drought
until i was confused as to what friendship's about
and life for that matter with my brain in a cloud
lost hopes and helplessness no sense of proud
yet still treated rough as I crawled with the crowd
took 8 sodding people 6 years to bring me down
Seven long years of suffering isolated
seeing these memories fit missing places
the hazy mist clears and I'm not suffocated
I know what my boss caused I know what my mates did