Rhythm Poems - Poems about Rhythm

give me the rhythm, a steady heartbeat birth pangs are closer, the pain on repeat music comes forth from creatures small and great fat raindrops drumming,a new age awaits wind whistles and moans through tall trembling trees the mountains bow down with weak shaky knees the heavens look on as stars light the way one foot in the sea, another in...

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Your whisper is in the burble of the spring stream. You pass through the internodes like rays through a prism. I have composed my lyrics. I would like to sing. My morphemes are coarse. Could you give me your rhythm? Aesthetics and passions amalgamate in me. My soul finds solace in your consoling bosom. Sentiments break within me, like waves of...

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Well written poetry should have a rhyme Be pleasing to the eye and to the ear. With words that then flow down the page in line When read out loud the rhythm should be clear. The subject matter must not be too hard To work out what the writer's words convey. A 'jumble sale' of words will just retard The essence...

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Thoughts rest as we float into our soul’s nest, toroidal heart, where throbs soundless thunder, bliss magnetism humming, deep in our chest, leaving our presence awestruck in wonder. At heaven’s gate, all nodes collaborate, attuned to the pulse of the universe, the music God makes, which then shapes our fate, which we sing as a melodious verse. Spine a harp, on which Divine...

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I am a free spirit happy and free I travel which way wind blows Often heard singing off key But dancing to the beat on my toes Words are blurred I forget them Often making up my own ditty Yet in the rhythm I can swim And match the groove so pretty Miss Mary Mack wasn’t dressed in black For I gave her...

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In the beginning was the Single Stroke Roll— left-right, left-right, the primordial heartbeat of existence itself, each alternation a binary choice between being and non-being, the eternal paradiddle of consciousness striking against the drumhead of reality. Listen: the Buzz Roll of morning traffic ten thousand souls creating multiple bounces against the stretched skin of commuter silence each ghost note a rhythmic prayer unheard each...

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Hold me in stride with one, nay two left feet. Our feet tangled so our eyes never meet. who is to lead with shadows that wallow. Spinning hand in hand it feeds the hollow. Equilibrium the measure, the stance. We watch love grow melodic, eyes entranced. resilient the floor that bares the load. Newly beloveds, cloudless their abode. Two souls in the...

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The horizon, a bruised purple this morning, but the sound, always the sound. A constant, liquid sigh, a breath drawn in across continents, expelled onto this shore, again, and again. Relentless. Not angry, not joyous, just…is. A pulse of the planet, perhaps. Or the turning of some cosmic dial, each surge a tick marking time in a language we only feel in the tremor of sand...

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bamboo pipes heaving raindrops breaking silence against stone deer runs off ...

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i prefer to do my dancing while the city sleeps it's when out of the depths a burning melody calls to me it reaches in and touches me playing my heart like an old piano and at its whim it moves me to the rhythm of a childhood carousel AP: Honorable Mention 2025 ...

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Like a ticking clock~ a drum’s rhythm in darkness... wings f l u t t e r i n g within a sky inside me....

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i listen to your voice but you're not here and may as well be lightyears out in space tonight the moon feels much more present as its allure sways me to a most bewitching beat AP: Honorable Mention 2025 Posted on April 27, 2025...

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In the gentleness of the season, hearts do not fade and do not lose their rhythm, flowers bloom, and love finds its place, an eternal embrace for you, for in every bud hides a love story waiting to be told, in a world that is reborn with every smile and every ray of sunshine. With the grace of your...

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They want our rhythm but not our blues They envy our natural melanin yet tan too We wear our style and they call it hood They copy it now and say it’s all good They want to erase our heroes and heroines Because there’s a power in the skin we’re in King, Tubman, Malcom X, Garvey and more are Past heroes...

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On rhythmic winds, they journey traveling light – like wonder a gentle reflection so worthy still colors in indigo and silver, melted hues of vibrant burgundy and yellow… on crisp, clear mornings when the heart feels so amazed by the dewdrop promises the lilacs and the graceful sway of emerald pines, bursting maples and oaks all the songs, flowing in from the wrens, robins and hopeful chirps,...

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