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Listening to the drums (primal poetry)

he heart begins slightly to race
and she is not happy. The steady
thum, thum, thum, is not her taste.

a little boy is being physically bullied,
forced to be subservient to the will
of a more powerful other.

mind then drifts to abstractions
where it picks up the eternals
to bridge the tempora sphere.

Then the beat calls me back, the heart
has accustomed, and I can understand;
after all, we all come out of Africa.

Today it is not just sticks beating against
animal skin. Today the sound is different
as if it had a voice that would speak to me.

but what emotion is there in monotony,
what ice, what fire can a monotone create.
Still I do not drift, still I do not fall in.

Editing stage: 
Workshop: 

Comments

that you are still having difficulty in gaining that space where you are in the throes of a vision. Keep trying, you will learn to ignore those around you and maybe try to eliminate those that distract you. ~ Geezer.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

if you try it a few more times, perhaps different drumbeats might help, I've given links to several on the workshop page, you will go on a journey, I promise.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

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