Thumps Poems | Examples

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no4

Cohorts of suits distort

Court the last resort

Damnation of immigration

Onslaught in cahoots cavort


Pander to propaganda slander

Escort darker fraught faces

From other races caught

To starker places.. shunted

Hunted like a sort of sport 


History debunked

“Before” skunked & kerplunked

Lore of Yore junked


Fossil fuel full sumps

Well More is More

Trees flump become clumps 

Of gnarly snarly stumps


Petrol pumps pour

Sheriffs thumps any grumps

Tariffs Gazumps…prices soar

Ready for the final encore?

Gnarls Knurl the Grip to Fight

after "Do not go gentle into that good night", by Dylan Thomas

Age can not scour away the furrowed gnarls time obeyed,
Nor mask the snarls, gouged as trenches on brows.
Grace knurls the grip that time has long betrayed,
To swage wrath and fury to a form that age endows.

Grace reveres the knurled design that time has hewn,
Not as a defect or flaw, but as grip etched by yen of years,
Like old trees twisted, contorted, too far gone to prune.
It’s grace that cradles calloused scars, not fears.

It’s the gnarls of age that knurls the last grasp of rage
to rebel against the curse of dusk’s encroaching bite.
Stroking the rebellious snarls that ring on anvil stage,
as loved ones bear the thumps and flails of the plight.

It's the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to fight,
against the blight in the coming of good night.

Jade Stone's :::Confidence:::

She laughs, she cries, then she sighs
brimming with confidence,
the pain within she denies
Her heart thumps then skips a beat,
as she reads poetry, a taste of bittersweet
In quiets empty moments, a hole 
remains deeply in the soul,
an abyss, an unmeasured chasm
It’s the space  p~o~e~t~r~y  fills
Her personal dead poet society
stirring her deepest passions
awakens her dormant desire
her quest not for fame or fortune
but for the elusive treasure of inner piece
Her confidence misconstrues itself for vanity perhaps

sureness
positiveness
conviction
certitude
reliability
assuredness
assurance
validity
conclusiveness
authoritativeness
truth
factualness
self-possession
nerve
poise
aplomb
presence of mind
phlegm
level-headedness
cool-headedness
firmness
courage
boldness
mettle
fortitude
belief in oneself
faith in oneself ...
                           …                
                              …
...are all just more vanities?
free-spirited or lost soul?
do both make one another?
the vanity of human wishes?

work in progress…

The Decrepit Heart Remembers

I once loved
so fully,
I cracked open
beneath the weight
of someone
who now feels
like fog.

He was real—
once.
But time,
and the soft grind
of sorrow,
wore the shape
of him away.

Still,
my heart thumps,
a decrepit engine,
rattling on
with broken rhythm—
every beat
a memory
I wish I didn’t
still want.

I ache to return,
knowing the knives
that wait.
I am
a snake
coiled against fire,
slithering back
toward pain
with my eyes wide open.

Even in this
ruin,
something stirs—
a pulse,
a scent,
a breath of maybe.

And I,
battered
and trembling,
am not
gone
yet.

Expialidocious Love

Wonderful love dreams thrilled young Cali.
She sung of such with good friend, Sally.
Extraordinary and precocious,
her thoughts felt expialidocious.

Expialidocious were heart thumps.
Precocious fantasies raised goosebumps.
Sally thought her love, fragalistic.
Cali said, "joy's not fatalistic."

For Cali, hushed love was great enough.

Revival

Revival


We humans wept for the revival 
Nothing nor time can be at arrival
Yet, the redshift of revival was horrendous
It often creeps the dream of wondrous 
Sadly, shirked the throbbing drums
Yes! The soreness after the bubblegum 
Thumps that messaged the wounds
Click away the silly sticky bounds
We, humans, sobbed for the curves 
And constantly impairs the scattered nerves

Universe testified the forbearance 
By passing phases of physical sufferance
We, humans, unable to speculate the fade
They rolled the unexpected blades 
Blades that cut and curse the embrace
And we kept shouting with space to trace
Time, clicks away the antidote for pure
And eventually vanishes the miles of endure
We, vulnerable, we, vulnerable 
We, vulnerable, we, vulnerable 

Newness wakes after a decade
Decade of dullness and bone headedness
Create the covering cure and activeness
Yet, unwrap the belief, yet unwrap the belief
We, vulnerable, we, vulnerable.

fence'd in think

.
              i do know lover
           sit'n 'pon that thar
                    fence
      my think az mine torso'z
                    pump
                   thumps
                search'n wit 
                    quick
              tuh keep yourn
                   smile'n
                  whilst my
               devourz yourn
                    pretty

Retiree Returnee

Maunakea comes
into view. Coastlines 
from right side windows.
Hilo, my hometown.
Soon we’ll be landing.

I feel the plane
stop and cargo
door with luggage
bumps hold, thumps ramp.

Passengers
and crew says
Aloha.

Flowered
crowned lei.

FRUITS!

Don't forget too

Pay attention to the beats and drums of those who've won
and lost the war on simple thoughts.
They think not 
of a thing simplistically complex.
From this and to that
can we tug our hearts
at the thoughts we must bare
at the sounds we must hear
from the sights we must swear
that beyond our senses and screens 

so far that we’d not mistake bombs for thumps of fallen trees


and gunshots on New Years Eve



or violence as but a slight squeeze...

The Haunted House

Why, in a haunted house, do we scream?
We know that the monsters are mechanized.
We know that the bumps are all oversized.
We know things are not what they seem.

Why, in that haunted house, do we chuckle?
We’re bombarded with bright lights, loud screams,
thumps and bumps; we imagine extremes
but know it’s all fake as we grip the belt buckle.

Why, in our own home, when we hear creaking,
don’t we cry or guffaw, but instead
we tiptoe, gasp and believe the undead
and the zombified trespasser come softly sneaking.

Why, when the horror and terror aren’t real,
Do we shriek with delight, while thrilled to the bone?
Why, when we know that we’re really alone,
Are panic and dread the emotions we feel?

Song and Dance of the Unborn Child

Center stage, the fertile womb
has room and walls. 
The fourth will speak to you
with thumps and heartbeats
Loud and clear :
"I am here!"
New life cannot be ignored...






I love my sons.
Aqua Marine. September 2024.

Morning Melody

In the kitchen, pots clatter and pans clang,
The blender whirs as the kettle hisses and sings,
A spoon clinks in a mug, stirring tea,
While toast pops up with a little ding!

The cat purrs on the counter, eyes half-shut,
The dog’s tail thumps as it begs for crumbs,
The fridge door squeaks as I grab some jam,
And the bread squishes between my thumbs.

Suddenly, the phone buzzes with a ring,
I yelp and drop my toast—what a sight!
Jam-side down, it lands with a sticky splatter,
And the dog licks it up with pure delight.

Breakfast chaos, a daily dance,
With sounds that play a silly tune.
But in this noisy morning trance,
There’s magic in each messy swoon.


#Onomatopoeia# #OnomatopoeiaPoetryContest#

November

For some reason not even the earth could change my mind
The wind banging against my ears
And the dark night couldn't disguise it.
The oak trees could protest their judgement
And the ocean can keep wailing 
But my ignorance can oversee it.
For some reason,there were more leaves than before.
The owls cries were easily ignored
Likewise, not even the doves were heard.
Reluctant, I had started to embrace the seasons
And with that, the leaves finally cleared
The ocean soothed
The oaks no longer croaked
For once
I felt blissfully unaware.
Yesterday everything was so loud
But tonight was so quiet
Even my mind no longer protested.
The only protests were the thumps of my very own heart
Even though the snow sourly embraced me
Summers' own spiteful touch lingered.
On that edge
A minuscule path of dying dignity
The seasons grew louder
For whatever reason.
And even in my bittersweet death
I was still nature's child
Caressed by mother nature herself.


November

Quiet things

It's those quiet things that no one else will ever know
Feelings for only you, I will never cease to show

When I'm with you, my heart thumps out of my chest, like the rhythms that great raps make
I dream next to you; I'm offered a heart-shaped pill; I, in willingness, take

My most-coveted lifetime souvenir
Being drawn into your arms so near

Every moment I've spent showing you, you're forever cherished
I find levels of my unhappiness have fully perished

I'm afflicted by the remnant scent of your touch, which I adore
Convicted of a devotion, the sentence is wanting you more

Springtime Frolic

Sunlight spills on sprightly steeds,  
Spring's sweet song stirs sleeping seeds.  
Spirited stallions, sleek and swift,  
Sashaying through the springtime mist.

Silken shadows shift and sway,  
In the serene, splendid break of day.  
Three thoroughbreds rambunctiously thrive,  
Their thunderous thumps come alive.

Pastures painted in subtle shades of green,  
Outstretched playground, pure and pristine.  
Playful prancing, powerful paces,  
Pleasure painted on their faces.

Celebrating, chasing, carefree,  
Cascading manes, wild and free.  
In the cozy, comforting light,  
Spring's splendor shines so bright.

Frolicking freely, feeling fine,  
For this trine, dazzling day so divine.  
Eternal energy, ever so spry,  
Beneath the vast, vibrant sky.

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