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Ohio
Tin soldiers and nixon coming,
Were finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in ohio.
Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are gunning us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?
Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are gunning us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?
Tin soldiers and nixon coming,
Were finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in ohio.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Openings For New Occupancies
To dwell in sorrow,
Has to be a noisy experience.
Where there is little peace,
That exists.
Especially living in a place,
Where there is rarely a vacancy.
And leaving those to await patiently,
For a date announcing...
Openings for new occupancies.
It has to be noisy,
Living and sharing mindsets like these!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We worked on solving the problem of voice communications in a noisy military environment. We established military codes that are highly audible and invented selection tests for personnel who had a superior ability to recognize sound in a noisy background.
quote by M.H. Abrams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Animal Rights (A Bad Cat)
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it sheds,
the hairs on my hat.
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it spreads
the food scraps
on my mat.
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it doesn't protect
my cheese and bread,
stolen away by a mouse,
which ransacks my house.
A cat is a bad cat,
no matter thin or fat,
so long as it sleeps all day on my bed,
so long as it makes noisy fight,
during the silent nights,
so angry and mad,
with a pack of stray cats,
for a beautiful female cat,
for mating business.
Every morning it comes back,
with wounds on the head,
scratches on the back,
and the fresh blood still wet.
These wounds I have to clean and dress,
while it enjoys the pleasure of sex.
Increase in pay
I hear him humming
A song of increase in pay
The same tune he keeps on drumming
Day after day after day
'Increase in pay, ’ he says
'Increase in play, ' he says
Today his hair is whiter than grey
Thirteen increments of pay
But he still keeps on humming
The same tune he keeps on drumming
'Increase in pay, ’ he says
'Fewer hours, more power, ' he says
No more do they listen
Once they did when he glistened
Now they wait gently endlessly
Now they debate quietly mercilessly
'Delay the pay, ' they say
'Decrease the play, ' they say
Can't you see his hair has turned all grey?
Soon! Soon he shall only wither away!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Sorry, no, I'm never satisfied with my drumming.
quote by Pat Mastelotto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My drumming is always an experiment.
quote by Pat Mastelotto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The impatient hours
The impatient hours
~
The drumming of fingers
The ticking of the clock
Loudly fill the impatient hours
Wasteful in their emptiness
Surely there must be something better
But the wait continues anyway
Waiting on a promise to come good
Hoping its not like past promises
Which all became just lies
Paranoia stalks the mind
Reminding of the past disappointments
Why should this one be any different
Why wait in stale confines
When you could leave, walk away
Forget the promise in an instant
The drumming of fingers
The ticking of the clock
Grow ever louder
Counting each possible outcome
The promise bares fruit
Or becomes another lie
Still waiting on the realisation
In the impatient hours
Wasting the day into nothing
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Seemed to me that drumming was the best way to get close to God.
quote by Lionel Hampton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've always seen my drumming as lyrical anyway.
quote by Jimmy Chamberlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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050311E it's place not fish
there's man made lake close
with three giant sprinklers, nice
banks planted with pine trees
very tall now, i have clear view
besides protruding flower plots
they also stock with fish, bass
i haven't seen anybody fish there
maybe because it's surrounded
by parking lots, highway, buildings
noisy traffic, noisy shoppers, busy
i wouldn't mine do catch and release
for a fisherman, it's fishing on a tub
poem by Manonton Dalan
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If you cannot dance, you will say the drumming is poor.
Drumming was the only thing I was ever good at.
quote by John Bonham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Twelfth Day of Christmas
(January 6)
Among drummers drumming,
One little boy.
poem by Monty Gilmer
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Had I joined a straight rock band, I'm sure my drumming would be a little bit different right now.
quote by Jimmy Chamberlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Long In Coming
When shall I hear the thrushes sing,
And see their graceful, round throats swelling?
When shall I watch the bluebirds bring
The straws and twiglets for their dwelling?
When shall I hear among the trees
The little martial partridge drumming?
Oh! Hasten! Sights and sounds that please –
The summer is so long in coming.
The winds are talking with the sun;
I hope they will combine together
And melt the snow-drifts, one by one,
And bring again the golden weather.
Oh, haste, make haste, dear sun and wind,
I long to hear the brown bee humming;
I seek for blooms I cannot find,
The summer is so long in coming.
The winter has been cold, so cold;
Its winds are harsh, and bleak, and dreary,
And all its sports are stale and old;
We wait for something now more cheery.
Come up, O summer, from the south,
And bring the harps your hands are thrumming.
We pine for kisses from your mouth!
Oh! Do not be so long in coming.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Rain(1)
I thought the Rain had stopped awhile;
I walk’d the balcony floor in style!
Quivered, the Rain fell on my back;
Noisy Birds on trees, did I track.
I walk’d a bit despite the Rain;
Enraptured by the songs in train;
They seemed to ask one another;
Why wet our plumes and our feather?
The Rain stopp’d as though their prayer,
Was heard by Heaven in answer;
The noisy chirp died to a lull;
As if the Birds thanked God in full;
Maker, He cares for creatures all;
Pays heed to the least of their call.
poem by John Celes
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Swan Swan H
Swan, swan, hummingbird
Hurrah, we are all free now
What noisy cats are we
Girl and dog he bore his cross
A long, low time ago, people talk to me
Johnny reb whats the price of fans
Forty a piece or three for one dollar?
Hey captain dont you want to buy
Some bone chains and toothpicks?
Night wings, her hair chains,
Heres your wooden greenback, sing
Wooden beams and dovetail sweep
I struck that picture ninety times,
I walked that path a hundred ninety,
Long, low time ago, people talk to me
A pistol hot cup of rhyme
The whiskey is water, the water is wine
Marching feet, johnny reb, whats the price of heroes?
Six and one half dozen the other,
Tell that to the captains mother,
Hey captain dont you want to buy,
Some bone chains and toothpicks?
Night wings, her hair chains
Swan, swan, hummingbird
Hurrah, we are all free now
What noisy cats are we
Long, low time ago, people talk to me
A pistol hot cup of rhyme,
The whiskey is water, the water is wine
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd like to spend long hours at home
I'd like to spend long hours at home
With a small child to bother me.
I'd take her out to see the shops
And fuss about my husband's tea.
Instead of this I spend my days
In noisy schoolrooms, harsh and bare.
Unloved am I, since people give
Too many children to my care.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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