On The Drum Beat
On listening to the measured sound,
Of the distant drum beat,
With sweeping sounds of the pipes.
On the other end of the village,
On wedding of couple,
I was carried out of myself.
And thrilling blood ran into veins,
With the sense of vitality.
I lost my control on me,
As if my limbs were not mine.
For the spell queer.
Worked on me and my fellows,
Of the same age,
Who being charmed ran,
Attracted by the drum beat.
As pleasing smell attracts,
The bees, flies and moths.
Each taking two rods wooden,
Hastened to the cottage of groom,
Gathering around the beater,
In the airy yard,
Who stood pivoted in the center,
Black and tall, with pink faded turban,
His rhythmic hands beat,
On vibrating ends of the drum,
Hanging with his neck,
With long leather belts.
We danced and danced in circle,
In ecstatic heightened spirit.
Our hands, feet and limbs,
Mechanically moved with the beats,
Among the chorus of wedding songs,
And clapping of the adorned ladies.
Striking of the wooden rods,
Produced sounds harmonious,
All dancing and cheering,
Were carried out of themselves,
To the fairy-lands of strange joys.
Then all of sudden,
The beating hands stopped,
And we came down to the earth,
Falling head-long, as wings of a bird,
Flying into the zones high,
Are clipped short,
So for him ceases everything,
When dashes to the ground
The broken spell of rhythmic beats,
Brought us again,
Into the world of woes and pangs.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beat
Drum, drum, hear the drum
beating its beat
for what's to come.
It beats like your heart
a steady boom.
It slows sometimes
and then will resume.
And when the drum beats
can't be heard
and your heart no longer
can be stirred,
the silence reaches where you are
because the drum beat
is too far.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beat Of Your Drum
Photograph king, watches you go
Now fashions may change, heaven knows, but you
Still leave a stain on me
Only to go colours may fade
The seasons may change, weather blows, but you still leave a mark on me
Wrong-negative fades-never the twain, reckless and tame
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat I beat it
I feel it
Disco brat-follow the pack
Watching you peel, heaven knows, prison cant hold all this greedy intention
Only to go-i picture you now
Music may change-hi-di-ho keen to follow your nose
Wrong-love out of tune
Sweet is the night, bright light destroys me
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
I like to beat on your drum
I like to beat on your drum
I like your face in the crowd
I like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
Cant beat it
I feel it
Ho beat it
I beat it
Oh yeah
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to yell it out loud
Id like to beat on your drum
Cant beat it cant beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like your face in the crowd
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Cant beat it
Cant beat it
I be there
Baet it all out
Beat it all in the crowd
Beat it beat it beat it beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to blow your horne
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Ahhhhhh
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Red Drum
The red drum beats
when every other drum stops beating
every soul dance to the rhythm of life
from the pulsating ethos of the red drum
the red drum not only beats
when you listen, the red drum is talking
every stony heart has a sheath for a knife
from a gush on the tempo of the red drum
the red drum by nature is sexy
when your heart flutter and in frenzy
every stolen glance from your heartthrob
from the blushes irrigated by the red drum
the red drum is jealous and vindictive
when retrospect’s stab is aggressive
every soft spot, love and pardon flee
from dirges the red drum goes on spree
the red drum you should know is the heart
when in our short lives destiny plays its part
every promise given not to stray our drumsticks
from where we are identified as God’s handpicks
poem by Dela Bobobee
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Evil Drum Beats
Rumble, Rumble!
If you are not careful
The drum might beat for you
The evil drum beats to blood
made out of flesh
It only beats out destiny
Innocently, the destiny comes out to dance a tune
but instead of finding joy
it dances in tears
you dare not refuse dancing when it beats for you
but more than once
I say life is for the heart, strong and fierce.
poem by Yewande Adedokun
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magnetic Force
With the Baraat we went amid the pipes,
Peeling forth the sounds casting magic,
And rhythmic beats of the drum beaters,
Did lead us to the fairy world of negation;
Where from a man can behold the truth,
Luminous clear from distance very close.
Hobby horse would no doubt amuse us all,
That led the procession alluringly colourful,
And dancing, jumping kicked each passerby.
In streets of the village on both the sides,
The damsels clad in the new gaudy dresses,
Stood smilingly with overspreading shyness;
Holding the glasses of sugared milk warm,
They giggled, they chattered and chuckled,
The words dropped from their delicate lips,
As the dewdrops from the moisty petals fall.
Then we were received, feasted like guests,
All young and old then sat in the circle large,
To join the couple in sweet companionship,
On the hazardous, serpentine route of life.
Then Palki covered with deep red satin or silk,
Was brought and the bride with heart piercing
Shriek she did enter into the frame wooden,
As the young men lifted upon the shoulders,
The attached long shafts of the bamboo brown,
Some one would throw up a handful of coins,
Silvery, shining, and they came rattling down,
All looked opened mouths, extending hands,
Alert ready to catch them as they came down,
And some in vain groped, some fell prostrate,
All stiff backs bent and all erect heads bowed,
Like the grazing sheep in the pastures green,
I astounded, coins might have magnetic force.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Beat the plowshare
Pound the drum
Of war to come
Rhythm on steel
Red from the forge
Forms the sword
To carry to war
The sledge makes beat
On thinning edge
As it pounds
pounds
pounds
pounds
It sounds the drum
Of war to come
Soon it will be echoed
By marching men
cries of battle
Sounds of war
The sword will lead
Before the flag
Followed by the sound
Of drums
Pounding
Pounding
To war
Today, I beat my plowshare
And I listen to the drum
poem by James Timothy Jarrett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giving Hope A Chance...
we are assured about the sound
of drum beats
from all the continents of the world
so assuring
that hope has given birth to more children
of hopes
the women dance and the men beat the drums
the children watch for a while
and liking the sounds of these drums beating
slowly then wildly and then
contagiously exciting
the children begin to clap their hands
and step their toes
sway their bodies
and sing the songs of hope
again
the world spins
the universe sways and gives birth to another star
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain Music
On the dusty earth-drum
Beats the falling rain;
Now a whispered murmur,
Now a louder strain.
Slender, silvery drumsticks,
On an ancient drum,
Beat the mellow music
Bidding life to come.
Chords of earth awakened,
Notes of greening spring,
Rise and fall triumphant
Over every thing.
Slender, silvery drumsticks
Beat the long tattoo--
God, the Great Musician,
Calling life anew.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing
Dancing
Moving
The body
Shuffling the feet
Shaking the torso
To the drum's lively beat
With hands, in the
The air, while
Manuvering across
The floor
With some people beginning
dancing
Just as entering
The door
Oh, how invigorating
For, I danced a little bit more,
As I look around
I see that
Iam no longer
The only person
On the lighted dance floor
Joy, joy, joy
Everybody is
Dancing
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Our Dave
Here is a tale about my brother,
The one who beats the skins;
From earliest days he thumped and tapped
On table-tops and tins.
When bought a tiny metal drum
His face beamed with delight;
He rapped it with his wooden sticks
From morn' 'til noon 'til night.
No power on earth could slow him down
His destiny was sealed:
His drumming was to be his life,
No other course appealed.
His hyper-active ways, it seemed,
Were suited to his choice
Of instrument... he'd make his mark
With sticks, and not with voice.
And so he has, and still goes on
Improving all the time;
Refining each and every note
Until it sounds sublime.
It's true to say he's older now
And settling down a bit;
But still there is that need of his
To drum, he'll never quit.
He'll drum on to the bitter end,
The beat is in his blood;
He's gone from strength to strength you see
And now he is so good.
This tale about a drummer
Is getting near the end;
This tale about 'our Dave, '
My brother and my friend;
I have to say I miss him,
But I'm happy that I find,
He's overcome the handicap
Of being almost blind.
Written June 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music To My Ears
The merry music of a colourful carousel.
The joyous ringing out of church wedding bells.
A bird singing its heart out, high up in a tree.
The waves crashing down upon the salty sea.
The skin of a snare drum, being played with brushes.
A waterfall - the dramatic way that the water rushes.
The audience's excited chatter prior to a show.
The melodious sound of the bassoon or the oboe.
The call of geese - their loud, trumpeting sound.
A music box, as its pretty ballerina dances around.
I adore some accents: some are really top-notch:
I love listening to the Geordies and to the Scotch.
The jangling bells and cracking sticks of Morris Men.
The loud, hourly chiming of London's iconic Big Ben.
The tinkling of wind-chimes, blowing this way and that.
The rhythmic and resonant purring of a contented cat.
These are among the sounds which I love to hear:
Towards these sounds, my feet are often steered.
These sounds always put a smile upon my face:
Towards these sounds, my two feet will often race.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Prelude
BY sunny market-place and street
Wherever I go my drum I beat,
And wherever I go in my coat of red
The ribbons flutter about my head.
I seek recruits for wars to come -
For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,
And the shilling I give to each new ally
Is hope to live and courage to die.
I know that new recruits shall come
Wherever I beat the sounding drum,
Till the roar of the march by country and town
Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.
For I was objectless as they
And loitering idly day by day;
But whenever I heard the recruiters come,
I left my all to follow the drum.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Wedding
By the country road I was going silent.
It was deserted and long in the view.
The accordeons had started playing suddenly,
And the silence waved her hands, being confused.
And there was wedding, wedding, wedding singing,
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
Under play of the rural orchestra the wind joked
With the bride's white veil trying to twine.
The bridegroom was so serious, the bride was
Inconceivably, amazingly young.
The troikas passed by with the sound ringing,
* troika - three horses, harnessed together
And I felt the breath of spring, fresh and new.
I was going alone and unmarried,
And regretted of me being not a groom.
Somewhere was wedding, wedding, wedding singing
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Stomp Your Hands, Clap Your Feet
Whoa!
Woo-woo yeah
Turn it up until it bangs your head
Tear it down now mother don't play dead
People stand the noise
All the little toys
Put some more coke on the fire
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Mixed up kids lookin' for that night
They're getting higher everything in sight, well alright
The music's pretty loud
Someone in the crowd
Think they're gonna cause us a riot
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat, oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Rock on, rock on, rock on
Yow!
How how how how how
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh ho ho ho
Stomp your hands
Clap those feet, yeah
Stomp your hands
To the beat
C'mon boys
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Whoa-whoa, all night, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stomp your hands
(Oh whoa oh oh)
Clap your feet
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
All night long
Stomp your hands
(Everybody)
Clap your feet
(Everybody stomp your hands to the beat in the heat yeah yeah yeah yeah woo!)
Stomp your hands
(Oh!)
Clap your feet
(Oh whoa whoa whoa whoa, rock all night, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Oh yeah
Stomp your hands
(Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Clap your feet
(My my my, my my my my my my, my, my, m
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Trumpet and Drum
With big tin trumpet and little red drum,
Marching like soldiers, the children come!
It 's this way and that way they circle and file---
My! but that music of theirs is fine!
This way and that way, and after a while
They march straight into this heart of mine!
A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb
To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!
Come on, little people, from cot and from hall---
This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!
It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,
As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;
It will rock you away to the dreamland above---
Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,
And jollier still is it bound to become
When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!
So come; though I see not his dear little face
And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,
I know he were happy to bid me enshrine
His memory deep in my heart with your play---
Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine
Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!
And my heart it is lonely---so, little folk, come,
March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tug Of War
Its a tug of war
What with one thing and another
Its a tug of war
We expected more
But with one thing and another
We were trying to outdo each other
In a tug of war
In another world
In another world we could
Stand on top of the mountain
With our flag unfurled
In a time to come
In a time to come we will be
Dancing to the beat played
On a different drum
Its a tug of war
Though I know I mustnt grumble
It s a tug of war
But I cant let go
If I do youll take a tumble
And the whole thing is going to crumble
Its a tug of war
Pushing pushing, pulling puliing
Pushing and pulling
In years to come they may discover
What the air we breathe and the life we lead
Are all about
But it wont be soon enough
Soon enough for me
No it wont be soon enough
Soon enough for me
In another world we couid
Stand on top of the mountain
With our flag unfurled
In a time to come we willbe
Dancing to the beat played
On a different drum
We will be dancing to the beat
Played on a different drum
We will be dancing to the beat
Played on a different drum
Its a tug of war, a tug of war
A tug of war
What with one thing and another
Its a tug of war
We expected more
But with one thing and another
In a tug of war
Pushing pushing, pulling pulling
Pushing and pulling
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Drummer Boy
Once upon a
time
a very young
girl
started
searching
for her
drummer-boy.
She came
in
contact
with one
thinking
this
is he
not so.
Time passed
quickly
other drum
beats
were heard
but they
were not
the right
beat.
Then one
day
in the far
distance
she heard
a foreign
drum
so very
different.
It was a
new love
song
one
she had
never
heard
before.
The drum
beat
grew
louder
louder
bidding her
come and
explore.
As she
stepped
near
there was
he
standing
in the
forrest
alone.
drumming
their
love song.
At last
she had
found her
drummer-boy
the one
she spent
years
searching
for.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its Over My Head
You couldve had anyone you wanted
That just goes to show how crazy love can be
Look at us now baby who would have thought it
I dont know why you chose me
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
This beats anything I ever saw
Well I dont see what you see in me at all
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
You could be riding in a big mercedes
But here you are with me in a pickup truck
I never had a way with the ladies
So howd I fool ol ladyluck
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
This beats anything I ever saw
Well I dont see what you see in me at all
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
Lovin you comes easy girl my heard is in your hands
Its why you take a chance on me that I cant understand
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
This beats anything I ever saw
Well I dont see what you see in me at all
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
Its over my head and Im six feet tall
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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