Rythmn poems on Hello Poetry

Gary Kline Dec 2013

On the corner of 8th and Fleet
A man plays a drum with a funky beat
He uses two thigh bones as sticks in his hands
And aspires to play in the coolest bands.

He beats on a drum made of flesh and bone
And boy, let me tell you, I swear it moans
It cries out to other goblins and ghouls
And pleases the zombies leaving their schools.

This man is a mummy, no pun intended
Through all of his bindings he smiles so splendid
And plays until morning without any sleep
And he never seems to miss a beat.

Rad-a-tat-tat-rada-tat-rada-tat
The coolings of music and things such as that
Then out of the blue walked a single vampire
“You, my good pharaoh, are up for hire.”

He picked up his drum and his sticks and his hope
And followed the man to a bar called The Rope
And walked into chaos and fire and soul
Except for the dull and dumb-witted trolls

“Get on that stage and give us a beat
On top of all this, I'll give you a treat.
Instead of this run down and ***** old drum
Sit down to MY drum set and have some fun!”

The mummy was shocked and slightly unrest
But he promised and hoped that he'd do his best
He got on the stage and the lights came down
And he thought, with his talent, he'd go to town.

Rab-a-dab-y-splat-da-boom
All he could see was his certain doom
The crowd was mad, a troll threw a bottle
The mummy high-tailed it out at full-throttle

What was he thinking, he abandoned his heart
And lost his drum made with his own body parts
And alone he was, no hope and no drive
He had to find something more fun to survive.

He tried to become a family physician
But he knew this wasn't the right position
He refused and argued he'd never give up...
His bandages for anyone's nasty cuts.

He joined the circus for almost a day
But again, he knew, this wasn't the way
They unbound his bindings but he never spoke
Until they used him as the tight-rope.

So alone he walked, bitter and sour
Back to his home in the Haunted Tower
The town turned gray from the lack of spice
With nothing to do this would have to suffice.

“Poor drumming mummy, he offered such joy
When he banged and played on his favorite toy.”
“If only I knew where this mummy would be
I'd give him my bones and my flesh for free!”

Surprisingly this conversation transpired
Outside the place that the mummy retired
He heard everything that was said by the man
And he carefully formulated a plan.

He distracted the other and grabbed a big knife
He decided he'd end this wise man's life
He crept up behind him and whispered a, “Thank you
I hope you don't mind 'cause I'm going to shank you.”

The knife plunged deep with a raging fire
And to his surprise he just killed that vampire!
He laughed with a howl that scared the beast
That was running away down the street.

“Irony tastes like the finest wine.”
The mummy had very little time
He carved up the vamp and took what he needed
And to the heavens he calmly pleaded.

“My torment has turned me completely numb
But I promise I'll make a better drum!”
It only took minutes and was finally done
When, behind the horizon, fell the sun.

He set-up his station at his usual spot
Right next to an empty parking lot
He closed his eyes and picked up his sticks
And pleased the masses with his tricks.

The sound was as cold as the soulless vampire
But raged with a hot and terrible fire
Everyone cheered and screamed and howled
The mummy has bared a magnificent child

“Your drum, however, seems not the same
Does this new drum even have a name?”
“You better believe it,” said the pharaoh
“I think I'll call it the Ugly Sparrow.”

And with that he played for days and days
And played the music the people crazed
And forever and more he sat with his thought
And never again left this spot.

He turned down all offers and turned away work
And people called him a mindless ****
“That's just the thing, to have all the fun
You can't have a brain while playing the drums.”

— The End —