Rhythm
Now that we have seen the different types of poems, setting them to music is another matter altogether. I would like to say that it is easy to create rhythm, accompaniment, melody, and harmony. I think those are the four main types of sounds, anyway. An example of just rhythm would be the African drums playing out a steady beat. It is most clearly seen in the song, Little Drummer Boy, with an excerpt shown here.
Come they told me pah rum pa pum pum
A newborn king to see pah rum pa pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring pah rum pa pum pum
That's fit to give our king pah rum pa pum pum rum pum pum pum rum pum pum pum
Shall I play for you pah rum pa pum pum
On my drum.
There are many different types of drums. Which type gets used varies based on the desired quality, type, and length of sounds produced. The simplest version of this can be heard when you take an animal and thump on its' belly. That is the original version of the drum, simply made by stretching animal skin over a hollow empty space inside a wooden frame. Living animals, of course, do not contain the same quality of sound which is why they are not widely used for entertainment. You can try it for yourself. Find an empty bucket, old wooden crate, earthen wall or simply a hollow space and use your hands or sticks to create that gentle classic drumming sound. Now, let's practice.
I'm Praying
Yeah, you just about had fooled
Me into thinking there was nothing I could do.
So, I leapt in the well-oiled machine
Crept on without questioning.
Each day in the hustle and bustling
I'm praying.
Waking up on my own
Without finding solidarity.
By myself, stop staring at me,
Falling down just bumped my shin.
Getting up to try again
I'm praying.
Well, I soon found out that
I could make it by my own
Based off the deeds I had sown.
Closing chapters on men
I found strength to do it again.
I'm praying.
Crowd says it's all in my head,
Take Advil and go back to bed.
At night I'm left with a memory
Of what only could be
But ghosts to me whisper
Keep praying.
With space and a story to tell
About how I made it through hell
And the thing keeps pulling me through.
Bowed my knees and turned out the light.
Nothing left but that one last fight,
I'm praying.
Rumor is I'm delirious
Truth, I don't think we're harmonious.
I'm okay with being pretentious.
Finding peace but still not at home
Myself but never alone
We're praying.
Three-way
Momma calls home
Where the forests roam
Ranting about our
White power
Mutual brother Steve
One merry Christmas Eve.
But it's all about
Me now to turn this
Thing around
From ashes scattered
On the ground.
How angels oft
With footsteps soft
Have seldom trod
Upon the grace of God.
Not about what he did
Or didn't do, kid.
Oh mother dear, resign.
My best friend's
Ringing in to spend
A minute or two's –
I have not yet got through –
Chat about how much
He misses us and such
Warmth and tender love.
How sent from above
To him I must be.
Only to pause and see
My husband on the line.
This coincidence divine
Cause dinner is in the oven
And he with his brethren
Coming in today.
Hold up
It's a three-way
Put that call on replay
Riding on the freeway
Makes me wanna say
Hold up
It's a three-way
Put that call on replay
Riding on the freeway
I almost wanna stay.
A Princess Story
'Twas once a beautiful story
About a princess, daughter of glory
Before the weeds and briars grew.
The red-hot scars now mark
The places she passed through.
A king's daughter in times before
Finds herself a pauper once more;
Years tossed and time travelled
Watching her life become unravelled.
Now she's a slave to youthful love
Far from her Father's house above.
Yet her Father went searching
For his errant little girl
All alone with her only pearl.
The plight he found her in
Grew desperately alone in sin.
Over his shoulders her he cast,
His daughter, found and safe at last.
Though free, she often hears
The howling of those wolves she fears.
Wolves of fear and shame,
All other things without a name,
That crouch hidden until after
Always greedy like their master.
Lying hope, a hidden spear
Aimed to thrust, maim, kill,
Sever from, devouring the will.
To her Father she clung the tighter
Trusting him to make her future brighter.
Though oft at times she fails to see
What a masterpiece he is creating in me.
Sometimes
Sometimes I burn,
A steady flame,
Completely devoted
Unto your name.
Sometimes I dance
For you alone
As I lay my treasure
Before your throne.
Sometimes I lie
Down at night
Tired and haunted
But you are my light.
Sometimes in darkness
That we call this life
There remains an
Abundance of strife
Sometimes you're there
Cause you understand;
You'll carry me through
Upheld by your hand.
Sometimes I fail;
But my part to do
As strong fears assail
Is trusting wholly on you.
One day I'll rise
Up to your throne
Whether I'm someone
Or still yet unknown.
My God and my king
With every breath,
My all and my own,
In life or in death
I'll honor your name.
A Dream
Sitting on the stairs together
As this moment lasts forever –
Grins, raised hand, high five.
It apparently is happy
Just to be alive
Though baby has dirty nappy
From the struggle to survive.
All things considered,
You need not feel embittered.