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Woody Jun 2018
I still dream of my father
crossing the pastures
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sorrow
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
turning one last time as
if to say: so long my son
there’s going to be days
of sunshine and plenty
more of rain as he went
along his way, and my
sadness waved back like
grain in fields of long past
summers and summers
before that, so long a time
ago I can remember only
on lonely nights of heat
lightning and the low
rumble of distant thunder.
A nice surprise on this Monday evening.  Thank you all very much for your reading and very nice comments. Please know that I appreciate all of you and your kind words. Thank you.

* To Ravinder Kumar Soni: Opinion entitled to and noted. Thanks for taking the time to read.
Ylzm Apr 15
ordinary morning, late, bright and clear
weekend, no hurries, lets stay on in bed

in a flash, thunderous roar from above
mountainuous rock crashing, my mind saw

the skies echoed, rumbling in agony
rumbled and rumbled, on and on and on

strange sinister sound, trapped constant droning
UFO? baby superman landed?

rushed outside: no crash, just clouds in clear sky
rumble, rumble, rumble, man-made or what?

thundering, faint and far, near and muffled
none thunderous as the first rock that fell

then it rained: heavy; a soothing warm rush
droning masked, but strangeness etched, and lingered.
Julia Oct 2018
forever is a long time












to wait
for someone
and he waited








for me
for 9 years
until
9 tears
spilled
  d
      o
  w
      n
   his face
   a trace
   of              
         d       n       e
   a                           s
s                                 s

o       l       t       f
n       i       h      r
         n      a      o
t        e      t       m
h       s              
e               r       h
                 a       i
                 n       s


E      E
Y      S
    t
    o
    h
     i
     s
t          s
   o   e

nobody knows
how far this goes
how      o                     n
        o        o           o         g
     l                   o                  she strolls
without (whoa)s

each pebble places puzzles
pedaling peddlers play in puddles

triplet
        o
      twin
        e            tu
   ­     r              mb
        s            le

rumble mumble bumble
                        


                       GO AWAY
                             stay okay

my tires are all tiring
my spark plug is misfiring
my wires need rewiring
my modem is requiring
the answers i’m inquiring
why are we all conspiring
an interweb inspiring
an instant gram empire ring













my Angel waits on HI
                                   BI
If I replaced all the time I spent on social media with hello poetry engagement, I would probably be a lot happier.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2018
A mock pack of sea dogs
Lay on the hot, white shore;
Their wrinkles said
They'd been too long
In the sea.
Next to them dozed a tyrian crab
Whose sleep in a foot-trace deep
Commenced to crumble
In the green rumble
Of a lecherous tide.

Then a dark, awkward sound  
(Not too far from the drowsing crab)
Was heard.
He came forth from the mountain
To sun himself on the shore
And send the frightened rocks  
Back to the deep.

(c) LazharBouazzi, 11 June, 2018
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
Pete is lying on a beanbag
underneath a cover white

hears a rumble from below him
wakes up with an awful fright

then a hand comes by and slaps him
grabs his head and holds on tight

poor Pete's always getting beat on
almost every single night!


©2012 Lyn
Jordan Rowan Sep 2015
Is there a version of yourself I can steal?
Speak your language so I know that it's real
Tell me now, is this how you feel?
You angel, you

I am content with the way that we are
Friends can sometimes take things too far
But you are my one shining star
You angel, you

I feel the glow of your ebony hair
Dancing in the sweet summer air
Waving and gracing my true lover's stare
You angel, you

Feel the rumble rhythms start to play
Feel me close as we start to sway
I don't want to throw heaven away  
You angel, you
patty m Apr 2016
Smoke witch
gathering storm clouds
just past the peak of mushrooms
litanies of cicadas sing
scratchy melodies
to blustering winds
setting dust flying.

Rain let it rain, end the
violent extremes of this
desiccated land of summer.
Let it rain
where brooks once gurgled
and rivers rippled,
before entire  fields vanished
and we became the starving..

Anthems of thunder rumble
accompanied by bolts of lightning,
At last it comes in downpours,
sheets flattening in the wind. . .
rain-washed black branches
blend with overcast gray.
silver puddles shimmer.
Ankle deep in mud we twirl  
catching rain on parched tongues;
oh the blessed relief.  
The end of drought
and soon seeds of hope will rise
green against the dark rich soil,
food to appease hunger.

Moonlit gathering,
liquid bliss like tears moistens our cheeks as
we **** the marrow of acorns
and a handful of pine needles,
whispering in ancient tongues;
Shrouded figures among the trees,
a silver eye watches ferns uncurl,
We will endure,
running full force into the eye of the storm
stopping only to gather gifts from
earths shadow..
The vestigial four o'clock light
nudges me awake
and my eyes obey.
For a moment,
I have no recollection
of where it is that I lie,
until I hear the rasp
in your voice
make the gentlest rumble.
A chill runs down my spine
as I am reminded of the night prior.
I turn over
to blanket myself
in your warmth,
and it seems as though
I have just woken up
to a dream.
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
Have you ever been angry?
So angry you've scared yourself.
Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within.
An immense depth fast approaching.
So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes.
Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble.

Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out.
Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel.
Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching.

This beast was once kept sealed.
Who gave it this key to destruction.
This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy.
Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy.
Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity.
Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc.

I sent my armies. I sent them all.
Countless deaths and yet I sent more.
Quick slaughter - not the painless type.
This beast they could not stall.
Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn.
Festering flesh flying from fallen.
Axe, Sword and Mace soaked,
dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate.
Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses.
What do I do?
It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn.
I can feel the hate changing me.
Quickly now or I'll soon deform.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
Solaces May 2013
I'll walk you through the rain..

Hold your hand in the lightning..

We will clap our hands as the air cools from the passing lightning,
THUNDERCLAP rumble on through..

Come play with me in the puddles brother..

Lets make a bottlecap boat with a sailor ant and watch it float on through the grassy ant lake..

Lets watch the rain moths fly on through after a good storm.. where do they go? into the dreams of the ones who are sleeping now..

Smell the atmoshere, smell the rain.. Watch as the day becomes filled with orange and sad gray..

Sure its muddy, and a bit cold.. and of course we are not wearing shoes.. But we are having an adventure, there is no time for such nonsense.. Only magic u and i create.. together brother, always together..
Lizzy Oct 2016
Its back,
And I wish I could say
For one night only,
But the forecast shows
A messy week ahead of me.

Every day
The sun will burn bright
And a cool wind will
Bite my cheeks.

Every night
The sun will set
Like God dropped a bowling ball
And storm clouds
Will come rolling in.

The thunder will be deafening
With no lightning
To illuminate the blackness.
The rain will come in
Big, heavy drops
All at once.

No gradual crescendo.
No calming patter on rooftops.
Only a roar at my window
That will ****** me
To open it.

In the rumble
I can hear a whisper
Begging me to open
The floodgates and let the rain
Come rushing into my room.

Let it rise
Up the walls
Until I'm kissing the ceiling
Then sink to my bed,
Feeling content with my efforts.

I wrap the covers
Around me and lay my head down,
Passive to the water
Filling my lungs.
Comfortable in my
Burial at sea.

Don't worry though,
My room is still dry
And the window is closed.
But the latches are loose
And I'm not quick to repair.
Ralph Akintan Feb 14
Recircled czars drenched
In the blood of despotic swayers.
Encircled proteges with the
Aura of treacherous thorns
Keeping vigils in the basilica
Of authority
Year in,
Year out .

Selfsame partners in politics,
Selfsame partners in crimes,
Selfsame partners in progress
Selfsame partners in poor
      governance,
Setting subservient subjects
In perilous bays of hopelessness.
Scale of disengagement
Dangling carrots of
Intimidating threats.

Recircled ideas.
Recircled inhuman governance.
Recircled personages.
Recircled wasted years.

Deluge of prognostic plans
Sinking boats of tale.
Decades of experience yielding
Inexperienced tzars.
Torn garb of treachery
Covered up blazers of falsehood.
Stench of stasis enthroned on the
Stool of power, wrenching
      corruption from the grip
      of guilt.
Populace sitting on sulky
      directing the horse of
      hardship with the
      wailful whips of
      perseverance.

Epochal terms of wastages
      roll in
      and
      roll out
      like a spiraling
      viperine grass
      snake
      beneath the
      hybrids of weeds
      on a crest of
      spring cress.
Yet, promises promoting
Superannuated gains of
Effortless dividend.
Bus Poet Stop May 2015
Thedermatologist demands a pre-summer scan of my visual delights fully magnified.

Peering into places where no one else has ever peered, even me, reminds me that this is a potentially "disruptive" process.

Eye don't know what his eyes have seen.  

He works in silence pin punctuated by the occasional mmmm or throat clearing rumble.

Snappy removal of neutrally colored gloves signify conclusion, he opines as follows:

"Were you aware," he inquires, "that the lines, the furrows on a your forehead correspond to the life your have lead?"

"You have three, deep deep tracks, and that's a fact."

Yes, eye know,
and each one is a tree ring notation
of my existence.

Each a different year,
each a different moment fearful,
a death and a birth,
a passing, a regaining.

No, not children or parents,
illusions.

Markers of our lives are the
birth and death of our illusionary,
our revelation minutes, that measure and scribe
what dug those furrows is now officially,
no more.

Until we start anew,
a different Pretense,
a channel commenced to commemorate.

Living the dream, they say,
aren't we all, eye think, and so inform him.

The doctor did not bill for this
visitation.
Andrew Jul 2017
This country's being privatized
By politicians using private eyes
Manipulating through public lies
And their hate filled cries
The question becomes a stark why
We ask the dark unwise
Driving us to laced dimes
Or writing ****** rhymes
Love is the answer I surmise
Nobody else buys
Emotions have no value in the marketplace
Unless you're of a certain race
That reminds them of themself
Then they're more likely to share their wealth

We need more than paper *****
To tear down these paper walls
The order becomes too tall
When we apply an objective concept (currency)
To a subjective principle (value)
Our ideas of value get tangled
Our empathy is mangled
Our discourse becomes angled
Discussions turn to wrangles
And cats are bred Bengal
As our domestic lives
Never left the jungle
But there's always a rumble
Regimes always tumble
Humanity continues to stumble
Earth's health starts to fumble
Molesting the planet like a creepy uncle
Until we see our follies unfold
Then will we be so bold
To say we can do it on our own?
Cné May 31
Locked in your fiery eyes i submit
naked, **** exposed to be exploited
by Your will i lay before you awaiting....
to begin Our intimacy
wanton to please

Breathing in the anticipation
i am frozen by Your hesitation
for i crave                    
Your touch,
              Your lips,
                               Your embrace
in every rise of my *******
breathing deep
my thoughts creep
and time slows

In Your soul, i wish to peek...

Behind the lurking darkness in Your eyes
Is it love or lust hidden in disguise

i acquiesce
my forbidden fruit i wish to bare
the entrance to my sacred chambers
ripe with carnal desire
may it be Your pleasure

To imprint Your sting
forever seared
upon my redden flesh
so that it lingers in tenderness
long after Our journey

Your caress against my flesh
in piercing pleasure resonates
up the curvature of my spine
releasing infinite electric butterflies
i cannot hide

You plunge deep below the surface
infusing Our bodies as One
rhythmically in motion
edging each crest before plunging
deeper into the next
into the depths of brazen hunger

i want to surrender
though my growl cannot be hidden
‘neath the rumble of my heighten instinct
to soar in expletive exclamation
my animal within

my pounded thighs spread wider
below pulsating muscles
beating louder, harder, deeper
my cavity contracts
howling in blazed heat

i scream
through my glare
into Your eyes
of consent again, release me
in the allowance of your’s
entwined

Allow me to feel you
as you fill me
emotions untethered
in Your mind
Your body and spirit

The rapture of Your release
i capture
in my mind
my body and soul
anchored to my memory
Our journey

In gaping breath
We fall ...

Entangled in blissful euphoria
Your shivering body envelopes mine
a sweet embrace
a tender kiss
long as it been since I’ve felt such passion
i admit...
A collaboration
with multi sumus
https://hellopoetry.com/conundrum/
each posting our own.
Thank you multi sumus for the pleasure of including me into your writing world.


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2678968/lovelust-act-i/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2702803/lovelust-act-ii/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2869242/lust-act-iii/
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
Before I knew it I darted towards her like a train.
Barreling toward her fast as I could.
Inhaling deep, releasing deep huff.
The rumble of what came to be manifested before I was seen.
The notion of steam clouds and rod hot like iron.
Darting past the station.
Caution thrown to the wind in a solid fluid motion.
The rumble of my heart lead the way.
Stead fast, the scenery of steeping in front of emotion.
Track after track.
Winding and twisting with nothing to block the way.
I shot into a tunnel.
Stepping head first into what I have always known.
The express route to desire.
To inhale in ultimate asphyxiation.
The next station miles and miles away.
We were punctual.
Breaking down in deep huff.
Trails of smoke funnel where I lost my breath
Evan Backward Jul 2012
The flower opens softly.
Welcomes the sun into its depths.
The seeds slowly take flight,
Wandering between shafts of sunlight.

A baker walks home after work.
He, or she. They nod to a passerby.
Must be friends.
How nice.

A ribbon falls gently from the hair
Of a little girl.
Tied there loosely, as it was.
The wind had no trouble starting the dance,
That would lead it fluttering down the busy street.

I smell you, see you,
Hear the call of the ocean.
The roll and rumble.
The fall, and tumble.
Maybe I've just had too
Much salt water today.

The muscles contract.
Air flows through the tube, to bring about
The vibrations of song, and moonlit afternoons.
Laughter floats unimpeded into the wind.

I must be insane to think
That my feet actually touch the ground.
I'm sure they just fall through it.
I really shouldn't walk in graveyards anymore.
Rob K Jan 2017
Sometimes I imagine,
I'm the man on the moon.
Brought to this existence,
Entirely to soon.

Without choice was I,
Cast into this role,
While being forced to watch,
All the beauty and wonder below.

To watch the youth,
Rumble and tumble,
Grow fair and strong,
See their joy and their trouble.

Unable to lend hand,
Or participate,
Simply from afar,
All this I must take.

To see a love flourish,
And the agony of loss,
I'd give all of my mass,
To be a part of their flock.

As the ultimate outsider,
No chance to be held...

As the ultimate outsider,
In the distance I dwell...
Old writing...
I walk a pace in tall covers, a distance set from other brothers, waiting for a herd to feed; I crush and blow away some seed.

The grasses burnt on prior prairie, warm yet cool for day is airy, far can see I from top hill; I stand in patience very still.

Copper ochre is my skin, the brothers and I are family men, on the native hills we live and finding those called kin, we hunt today the land we’re in.

Off in distant rumbled cloud, dark foreboding getting loud, the sound we seek from running crowd, ahead of storm front watching grasses plowed.

Stoic, I, my umber eyes as mist now falling from the skies, I stand here patient chest held high, shoulders square with chin to sky, my flowing hair in breeze divides.

Land it shakes I take to knee and feel the earth, the vibrating, the rumble sound is thundering, is louder still than weather’s thunder, light she fades from skies I’m under.

  Yansa nearing, wind has told me, I wait here at clearing with spear to console me but something awful lurks around for along with rumble comes alarming sound, a growling type from a hungry hound.

Bear my brother, hawk my guide, no tree for shelter or horse to ride, my hunt now over after solemn wait for Mother Earth has sealed my fate.

Two wounded wolves approaching wily, one it limps or seems to sway as smaller animals run away, their eyes beguiling on stormy day, I prepare for fight, no time to pray.

I seat my spear, it is useless, take out knife and axe I loosen, the pair they circle long and wide, and carefully I match their stride.

  Quiet now, prairie peaceful, time seems slower, I cannot see my people; the wolves at bay they snarl near, I stone my heart against all fear. Were they hunting Yansa, like me too, I just easier prey to pursue? My younger days would see wolf for dinner as I’ve grown older so too am thinner.

  What difference makes it slow or fast but when they pounced did run in tandem? In last second my actions random, I lose my hatchet in one’s side and dive while stabbing until he’s died. Face is ******, arm got chewed, and they tricked me with a method skewed, for what seemed wounded never was true, my back turned towards her, neck in view, she took aim and rent sinew.

  A ****** mess became a horror, I swung my blade and thought I caught her; she tore my hand off and mauled my face then left me dying in a grassy place. The warmth of day is leaving body, a hunt now do I thus embody, the rumbling ground again is moving and cool of night is somewhat soothing, my killer stalks the area-round but soon she’ll eat me where I’m found.

  The rain it cooled me seeing Sister Moon, Brother Sun was dipping with Great Father Sky as Mother Night came to watch me die, my life fulfilled so now I die, Great Wolf’s passion can’t deny; to all that knew me I say goodbye.

  He who fights wolves says,  -goodbye.
Rhyming narrative about a Neolithic Native American.
ryn Jul 2014
Heavy and laboured the air permeates within
Coursing through the maze of tunnels.
Undeterred of where stone ends and rock would begin
Survival that drives to fill its channels.

Slow rumble that ignites the need to beat
Awaken functions both lacklustre and listless
The engine behind these dread ridden feet
Drag its load through mundane tasks emotionless.

At the core there resides the truest of stones
A jewel of sheer rarity that inspires wonder
Breathes life selflessly into dead broken bones
It throbs and ebbs with silent subtle power.

Claimed it and perched it deep on a pedestal
Protected it like it's the one and only source
It's what that keeps us sane and tolerable
It's what that pulls us through our course.

Whenever I think of if this gem would last
This monolith of a heart that I prop up *****
Stands steadfast hopeful of the light it'd cast
We have learnt so much of it to know that it is perfect.

*You are perfect...
torpedoing gravity
shredding the air
increasing rumble roars
through pits of me

defying gauzy grey
cold wet blankets
shivering dim
and then

the sun

cosmic pyre
radial aglow

we harpoon myst
as clouded ceiling morphs
into billowy cotton net
beaconing warmth

apprehension subsides
into eyes wide wonder

all frosted baby blue
and expansive roads
from here

can't succumb
to turbulent thrums
breathe on through

'cause I wanna
be the view

mile-high throb
direct to home
Flame May 2018
Each beat feels like a muffled rumble,
Like it's too hurt to beat all the way.
Between each beat is a pause,
That makes me think that my heart is going to stop,
But without fail,
The rumble starts again.

Quiet and slow,
Without any rhythm or flow,
It spreads like an echo,
All across my chest.
Bryce Feb 2018
Darling you know i love it when you play the black chords
Let them echo through the house for a long minutes time
and show me the god in your fingertips

a lover's hand you have with that percussive beat
rumble those strings with a heavy heart
give the dead ivory a taste of your lip

the ecstasy, the thrill
the trill and timbre
the infantile touch of a player's soul
strumming through that sweet sound

It is my youth, my zenith, my dying wish
my every happiness

to hear your musical singing string,
'till the very end.
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