Drum-related poems

Magenta

Platinum Member
I feel certain that the collective literary prowess of DW can spawn some stunning poetry on our favourite subject.

My own talents are pretty much confined to the clerihew, so here's one to get us going:

Being a drummer
Can be a bit of a bummer
Particularly when the house kit
Is a heap of excrement.

I'm here all week, folks.
 

BacteriumFendYoke

Platinum Member
There was a young drummer from Ayr,
Who somehow forgot his snare,
Said his mate in the street;
'Try hitting some meat!'
And thus the likelihood of him having children was diminished.
 

GruntersDad

Administrator - Mayor
Staff member
There was an old mod named John,
who saw this thread when logged on.
He said to the crew,
caution to what you spew,
Or this thread, like some others, could be gone.
 

Anon La Ply

Renegade
Midnight Oil at the Stagedoor Tavern sometime in the 70s
- dedicated to Rob Hirst :)

A "Save the Whales" charity event
Arrived mid-song after a few j's
As though heaven sent
We walked through the door - and hey!

An archetypal bronzed Adonis behind the kit
Flailing and beating. Impossible passion.
Sweat flying into the kaleidoscope spotlit beams
Streaming down rippling shoulders and biceps.
A man possessed.
A god possessed!

Air rippling in a cyclone of sound
The podium creaks, the cans sway, the air reeks
Flashing sticks, as though explosive.
Each crash a bolt of lightening
Each fill is thunder.
The racing rhythm of a predator giving chase
The song ends with a sonic boom.
Cool gig.
We buy drinks.
 

GetAgrippa

Platinum Member
Least we've been saved Walt Whitman "Drum Taps" and "Beat! beat! drums!"—blow! bugles! blow!Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,. Maybe Last of the Mohicans comes to mind. No my poetic contribution.

To Drum or not to Drum?,
That isn't even the question,
I have no choice my free will gone,
My limbs move to every song,
And that's all I got ta say about that.
 

davidbehrens3.14

Senior Member
There once was a drummer from Maine,
The bass player caused him some pain,
He said, fairly loud,
"Could you please turn it down?"
Alas, his request was in vain.

And before the inevitable question comes, yes I have been to The Drum Shop in Portland (It's the best place in the world ever).
 

JustJames

Platinum Member
OK, so not a drum-related piece of verse, but I've always liked these lines, which relate (sort of) to one of Madge's other enthusiasms...

Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
 

lefty2

Platinum Member
Here I stand before my kit
My eyes upon my instrument
So beautiful to me
And though they're viewed by most a thing
They come to life each time I play
They're such a part of me
 

mjtug

Junior Member
My clerihew:

William F. Ludwig
You and I both dig
A few snares designed he
The Black Beauty a dandy
 

Mad About Drums

Pollyanna's Agent
The Drums

I came across a drummer in an open glade
And sat before him to listen for a while;
The beats he played shimmered in the leaves
Causing my spirit to dance in the breeze,
While he closed his eyes to sing his song
And lifted his head to the clear blue sky.
Somehow I found myself doing the same
And in the space between us, my questions came -
Answered by the rhythms in the wind among the trees.

“Tell me, what do the drums speak of?” I whispered to the wind.

They speak of the mountains, as solid as the earth,
Giving life to clouds and a course for rivers;
They have lasted longer than the oldest buildings,
Yet they must also one day perish -
Without the mountains, there can be no drums.


“And tell me, what does the rhythm speak of?”

It speaks of the river that has always flowed, is flowing still,
bringing water to crops and life to the breeze;
Sometimes a torrent and sometimes a brook,
It, too, must one day dissolve in the ocean -
Without the river, there can be no rhythm.


“And tell me please, what is it that your song speaks of?”

It speaks of the wind that gives flight to birds and breath to trees,
Heralding the transit of tides and relief from the heat;
Destruction and power dispensed in equal measure -
Unseen by all, yet when my song is gone,
Only the wind will remain.


And at that moment the drumming stopped,
Like the sound of falling stones;
We lowered our heads, opened our eyes,
And the drummer flashed a dazzling smile,
As bright as the harvest moon.
We returned our gaze to the clear blue sky,
Bordered by mountains and trees,
And I could still hear the rhythm of the endless river
Flowing in the breeze.

I looked down once more only to find that the drummer had disappeared,
Leaving in his invisible wake the fluttering of soft Autumn leaves;
And I remained alone in that open glade, upon the mountain view,
Following the river in it’s course through the glistening trees -

And all the while the wind within me whispered to my soul:

So it goes



The Masked Pimpernel
 

larryace

"Uncle Larry"
Over yon, through the din, I hear strange rhythmic patterns.

Walking closer, behold I, Sticks4Drums, wailing on his Mapex Saturns.
 

Dr_Watso

Platinum Member
Damn, I made up a good one yesterday and it didn't post!

At least I hope so. If someone deleted this silly limerick when we let everyone else go around saying "shut your whore mouth" and swearing like sailors. Then I don't know what to say. There is no profanity involved in this dumb rhyme.

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who did like to drum on some buckets
He'd forgotten his sticks!
But he whipped it out quick
And now they all call him "The Thumper!"

And again, just in case a mod deleted the old one... "It" could literally be anything. He could have whipped out a puppy to drum with.
 

GruntersDad

Administrator - Mayor
Staff member
I deleted the first one but will let this one slide. I don't want to see a grown man cry. You, and me and anyone else older than 12 knows he didn't "whip" out a puppy.
 

Ajax

Senior Member
Damn, I made up a good one yesterday and it didn't post!

At least I hope so. If someone deleted this silly limerick when we let everyone else go around saying "shut your whore mouth" and swearing like sailors. Then I don't know what to say. There is no profanity involved in this dumb rhyme.

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who did like to drum on some buckets
He'd forgotten his sticks!
But he whipped it out quick
And now they all call him "The Thumper!"

And again, just in case a mod deleted the old one... "It" could literally be anything. He could have whipped out a puppy to drum with.
Mine got deleted as well - it had the name Dick in it. It also had the names Tom and Harry in it too.
 

GruntersDad

Administrator - Mayor
Staff member
Yours was deleted but not because it had the name dick in it. Regardless,
cute is one thing, Jr. High School humor is another. I made a post way back about being careful, and some don't want to play fair.
 

Dr_Watso

Platinum Member
I deleted the first one but will let this one slide. I don't want to see a grown man cry. You, and me and anyone else older than 12 knows he didn't "whip" out a puppy.
Yea, a large kielbasa is more likely. Puppy was kinda silly, so it's probably not that. It's like a mystery and a poem all in one!
 
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