Feeling the Rhythm Through Rhyme

A professional drummer/percussionist and educator, Dave has collaborated on many songs that later led to him writing lyrics of his own. Most of his poems during this book were actually initially written as song lyrics, thus the presence of repeating choruses though out. Actually, it had been Dave who first sparked the thought for the Brummet’s to steer this path they tread today – he decided to require a writer’s course to find out what he could be ready to do together with his short stories that he has compiled over the years. Most of these stories have remained unpublished to the present day thanks to other projects taking precedence, but Dave plans to release some within the near future. His poem “UFO Dream” is that the theme of 1 of the soon-to-be novels that he has been performing on.

Join us while we share 2 poems excerpted from the collaborative work together with his wife: Rhythm & Rhyme

Grooveyard – By D Brummet

Author note: My thesis on the magic of the facility of music. How it keeps us young and takes us far away from the blues of lifestyle. I think it’s the element that sets people that play music aside from people who don’t. we’ve got the power to take a seat therein sandbox and play without care within the world for what’s happening around us at the time.

As children we play, within the dirt, we get down

Oblivious to all or any that’s happening all around.

Then we get older and that we seem to lose

That ability to shut off the world’s blues.

We tend to urge tangled in every day’s grief

Without any output to urge some relief.

Making music it seems, is like being a child once more

Nothing else matters it’s just you and your friends.

When we go play we will easily forget

All the stressful things that make us all fret.

Yet if we forget to prevent and to play

We have lost the facility of the child’s way

In the Grooveyard – Sitting within the sandbox

Playing within the playpen – Being together with your friends and

Going to the Grooveyard – you do not need to exert

But to require a neighborhood – you’ve to possess heart while you’re

In the Grooveyard

You may vomit and you would possibly feel down.

Things in your world are turning you around,

But music has charms to soothe that beast

It usually works – you’ve to undertake it a minimum of.

We’ve tried the drinks and pipes to form things abuzz

But nothing has the kick that creating music does.

As musicians, we play, and once we get down

There is no stopping us, we’re painting the town.

We’ll not hand over the facility at any cost

Of that childhood ability that’s so easily lost.

That way of getting through everyday grief

Because we’ve still had the output to urge some relief.

There is no explaining the sensation we get

When it’s everywhere at the top of a group.

Shell-shocked from the venting of emotions

Onto a canvas of musically inspired devotions.

Humor flows and wise crackers attack

As we wait and discuss once we can next revisit.

Wings on a Breeze – by L Brummet

Authors Note: * This powerfully emotional piece was written within moments of a weird dream I had back in March ’11; only wisps of dream memory remained as I wrote this down in an effort to capture the remaining strands on paper. Mom often used the phrase “building your castle within the sky”, aiming to always dream and have hope.

I dream of feathers;

Ruffled and rippling

By the force of the wind,

… seems like laundry on a line,

Swept by a brisk breeze.

I’m Alive…

And I lament a life

Of bitter resentment,

The terrible need for approval –

Now faded together with her death,

Leaves this mind laden

By thoughts of sacrifice

And loss.

A regret that childhood

Dared me the strength to support

While circumstances struck,

And struck and struck again.

Taking bits and pieces of her joy

Her trust… her strength.

And together with her soured look on life

I grew

Into a lady …

  • And her friend.

She does not fight the wind

To stay afloat and fly

To that special castle within the sky

Today she soars without bruised wings,

Nor battered body to hinder her.

While I,

Now in mid-life,

I, who never knew wings,

Have sprouted a pair.

So small, so awkward…

Will they allow me to fly one day?

And try my very own flight with the wind?







By Mk Faizi

I am a blogger.