"drumrolls" poems
steeping by my feet
blowing wind that jostles me
against my faded seat
worn gray knitted sweater
khaki shorts and cold green tea
lightning cracks and thunder drumrolls
rain tip-tapping on the screen
and sudden warmth
as his hand rests on mine
bare feet, cold iron,
lounging in the mist
with his fine, strong fingers
fumbling my hair into a twist
-10.05.13
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
As I sit here in a room full of students
I watch and observe all the conversations they make
Some are working, and some are chatting nicely
Some in general gossip and others about loves mistake
I can distinguish the difference between each conversation
I can hear the voices separating the football from the flirt
But yet, it all seems to be one big mix of noise
That reminds me of some type of global dirt
These voices and conversations gather around my head and ears
The silent whizzing of noise has hold of my mind
Instead of shouting “stop”, and joining their noise
I slowly put on my headphones, just to be kind
As I mask the sound of gossip, love and sport
I focus more on the noises which I have chosen to be played
The clashing of drums, the tinkering piano and flute
With un-matching vocal of how enemies should be slayed
As I listen to this song, I focus on the room around me
Everyone that was here before was still here
The gossiping groups were still laughing and joking
And the heart-struck teen still shedding a tear
The difference in this was that it seemed silent as space
As if they had all taken part in an unrehearsed mime
Uncontrolled, unordered, so random, yet so distinctly real
Hidden behind my music for this moment in time
As the song slowly came to an end and switched onto the next
That 2 seconds that accompanied my timeless zone
I heard the blur of their previous chatter and talk
The world had continued, and I’d been left alone
I’d been taken from the world I knew for a brief moment
And as I felt like this new silent world wasn’t true
My next song of chattering metals and drumrolls started
This world had returned to me and it was new.
I didn’t know how to react to this realisation
Of a different dimension that my music sends.
How long until I’d figure out where I am?
I guess I’ll have to wait until this song ends.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Smoke drumrolls dance,
indigenous
verve,
observed
conserved
preserved
reserved
a shaman's stance
reduced
to an historical prance.
Apr 27, 2023
Apr 27, 2023 at 5:06 PM UTC
*Between the heatwave and the storm.
Is the sultry humid air drenched in water,
unable to hold its moisture
for a second longer.
It's heat now unbearable.
A moment of silence beyond stillness.
In the distance night
the thunder is grumbling
like a faraway avalanche.
drumrolls are miles from here
but coming now.
The darkness shining
with the rain bouncing high
from the pavement.
Electrical discharges
crackle as the air explodes.
Looking out of the window
at a cataract of waterfall torrents.
The buildings of the city distorted
like reflections in a hall of mirrors.
Inside the air conditioner creaking
And groaning at its impossible task.
The thunder is now overhead
Filling the room with odor of ozone
In the streets water flows
in rivers to the
overloaded storm drains.
The coolness after the humid air
is drained feels so wonderful.
The air now pure and purged
like a soul in a state of grace.
I think if I ever have to die
I want it to be in a storm like this.
Naked in the rain
as it washes away my sins.
And my maker
roars his forgiveness.*
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC