Best Booms Poems


The Thunder Kings

The rains had come and washed away the old world,
the thunder had banged its drum
with a weary warning ---
' I do not come oft, but I return and weep
and growl a lion's roar ' ---
I will for a brief moment be as a child
and fear again...
the cracks and booms rouse my guilt,
Telemachus would say the gods were going mad...

There is something 'neath the earnest 
thunder-drums which bangs
something-wicked-this-way-comes ---
and fades,
gently rolling away like a sonic carpet

Its change I welcome,
and fear,
and wonder if I was afraid at all,
wonder what deathly grip may one day come ---
suddenly,
or love may guide me through its tumult,
and dark valleys,
with flowers blooming 'neath my faithful feet;
and though I was once afraid
like a boyhood fear ---
startled from my very boots,
I shall miss my old friend thunder,
who reminds I'm quite alive,
and survived I have,
his treacherous thunderclaps,
and his sneaky ways,
my great trickster
(Thunder!)

The Sounds of a Storm

Thunder booms - It is my heart beating

The rain falls - It is my tears falling

Lightening flashes - It is the way my eyes glow

Wind blows - It is my heavy breaths...

Flowers grow - Inside my chest

Sunlight shines - Through my ribs and grows

Animals wake - And so beautifully start singing

Ice melts - You must be cheating 

Because my heart has never beat this loud,
My tears have never came so happily out,
My eyes have never taken on this glow,
My breathing has never been so heavy; so fast and slow,
My chest has never felt alive,
That thing behind my ribs never knew it could survive,
My soul has never sang such a beautiful song,
So you must be cheating; how did you make me fall?

For you my soul sings so sweet,
the words and sound have a pleasent ring,

For you, you brought my heart alive,
now I dont fear that it will die,

For you a garden of flowers grow,
within my heart, its somewhere only you can go,

For you, you make me forget how to breath,
one moment its heated, the next im dreaming,

For you make my eyes glow,
they take on a shine, a look that no one else knows,

For you, you are the one who can make me cry,
but my lovely darling, you also make me smile,

For you make my heart beat wild,
so loud it could be thunder heard for a mile,

Some moments it scares me, or makes me confused,
but one thing saves me, I know I love you,

Something tells me, we were meant to be,
only time can tell, so I guess we'll have to see,

But if the angels, are listening to my prayers,
I hope they let us stay together, I hope forever Im yours

A Storm Is Brewing

A storm  is brewing
Everybody is aware
Soup  appears  silent
Something is gonna take it by a storm
A storm  is brewing

The contest is prestigious
Everyone wants to be a winner
All have sharpened the arsenals
The backdoor war has already begun
A storm  is brewing

Linda says I am the number one
One knows how to get the job 'Silent'ly done
Broken has strengthened her Wings
Tim says I participate for a win
Andrea ,Casarah are not a step behind
BL says I am God of Gods, Devnath
Everybody says take it easy
But I can see all of them busy
CayCay ,Pandita say our age, experience is advantage
Little Hansteven is bold enough to perform on a bigger stage
Victor has vowed to emerge victorious
T.J. has got his own flavor
All are set to do their best
No one wants to leave any stone unturned


This storm is going to do a world of good
Some are going to noticed as lightening blaze in the dark skies,
Some are going to heard as crashing thunder booms
Some are going give double delight of echoes at quiet night
This storm is gonna leave it's marks
It is gonna connect lot many hearts
The storm is gonna give people sleepless nights
Good part is after the storm there won't be any fights

Wish this storm to hit soup frequently
It will challenge people's abilities
Now that it's official ,A storm is brewing
I can't stop my self , I am also participating
A storm  is brewing
A storm  is brewing


A Screened-In Porch

The thunder booms; the rain, it pours.
We're half inside and half outdoors.
A screened-in porch brings Nature close
But not enough to overdose.

And so we sit and mix our tiles*
As Nature ratchets up the dials.
We gaze up at the stormy sky 
And dripping trees, while we stay dry.

At last it ebbs as we play on
Until the downpour's up and gone.
How cool to watch such changing scenes
Behind the shelter of the screens.

*mah Jongg playing pieces

Premium Member Summer Storm

Ceraunophilia - 7-13-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer Storm

The day grows dark, ominous with rumbling,
We watch a hood of humid heaviness 
Slowly slide across the face of dusk
With wispy veils of mist, a harbinger’s whisper
Turns green leaves silver in brooding twilight stillness.

In slowly rising chords of chaos
Crickets hide and even air holds it’s breath
To listen for the steps of a far-off symphony.

Our eyes grow ready as sallow clouds swallow dusk
When the rising perfume of summer rain
Fills our nostrils with it’s signature
And raindrops sizzle on sidewalks
Dancing in frenzy, faster - harder.

The sky explodes to our delight
With brilliant shards of light in spirals
Then shakes the night with belly laughs, delighted with itself.

We run to open shutters wide
And lie upon the bed
To watch this full born summer storm
Plunder midnight with crashing waves of booms and fury.

Demonic Noise

tsunami commands 
mother earth to tremble --
demons unburied

blue skies of water 
pour out devastation --
crashing tears thunder

thunderous booms of
explosions in aftermath --   
resilience conquers



By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, March 9, 2012
for Nature the Destroyer contest (PD)
first place


Premium Member Chalet On My Mind

A wooden porch looks old like Grammy’s chair
That rocks us of fables, miming her voice;
While a neighbor spoofs wolf legends, beware! 
Under the moonlight dim, sweet hours rejoice.

 
How evening’s ray now settles on the ground
While urban traffic booms, only to impose
On our chalet shading youth’s prints around;
A moment when life blossomed like a rose.


Enchanted House for Nayda Ivette Negron
and Brian's Select 8

Peter Pan

A crisp, cold morning in Hyde Park, 
and he is waiting for his date. 
As joggers jog and poodles bark, 
the girl's unconscionably late. 

He paces London's crocused heart, 
as traffic booms in Piccadilly: 
he's practicing that English art 
of seeming calm, while feeling silly. 

One final tryst beside the lake, 
in front of the Eternal Boy: 
a parting kiss, for old times' sake ... 
she's stood him up? Or playing coy? 

The hotel clerk purrs sympathy 
when summoned on the mobile phone. 
By now, she'll be in Duty Free. 
Well, there it is. This Bird Has Flown. 

He tries to feign the jaunty airs 
of a striped suit on a sandwich sortie, 
but doing drily debonaire's 
not easy when you're fat and forty. 

He tramps the lonely, flat green mile 
to Green Park Tube's unlovely portal, 
but perks up with a cheeky smile - 
well, for a week he was immortal!

Telemachus One

***At the bequest of a friend 
or two this poem is a 
continuation of Tennyson''s
 'Ulysses'; though I don't
expect much glory for this
write, it was one of my
finer poetic attempts; 
especially Tennyson who
I think was perhaps the
best.Like Ulysses, 
Telemachus, his son now,
speaks to the masses in my
continuation...***


" On the great mount I have stood,
upon the shoulders of my father,
Ulysses ----
and I too tasted of war and conquest
and the breadth of many soul;
'lesser' men have thirsted less
than I, and fell to vice;
What 'fair' dole to fortune that I have
drank a mighty more, 
yet have lived to wake with warm wife,
though their faces haunt the drears
of night....

Hammer ringing Plains of Troy
where Zephyr sleeps her lair,
and whispers upon the world 
peace ----
then war, and legions carrion, 
then better days come round;
When the apple of life is a fairer fruit,
and the tenants of Mother Earth
wiser with their short stay,
teach soft love ----
and make mighty the low,
and not a stomach tis barren ----

But alas! ----
Many moon has passed 
since Odysseus walked The Isle
and pledged a greater good,
and 'tis darker yet lighter 
these strange 'new' days
swift with doom, yet hope ----
resting always in her Helicon Hills;

The happy Isles lie 'neath the heart
which beats a tender song,
spirit of the Brae and vales.....
and the seas with their threshing ----
now they long the Lover''s Field.....
and Artemis to rear thy golden Kin, 
the morning star thy diadem,
Aeonian with ancient youth;

Too long have the people wailed! -----
yet as deep earth must cry they -----
to the gods,
with one voice in the booms of thunder
and cracks betwixt the brooding night;

For justice too often sleeping 
in her shady slumber.....
.....the snoring lion lazed 
and stretched out in the fields of Troy,
The tongue-less Voice would call them
Lords of Peace;

(End of Part One)

Thunder Storm

Rain pierces the sky.
Lightning flashes past my eye
Thunder booms loudly.

Premium Member Some People Choose To Lie

Some people just choose to lie
Betray others, as some way of life
Act nice to others and it’s all a farce
The rain will fall on them one day
In the darkest hour of time

Because, they threw their conscience to the wind
The storm was strong enough to overcome them

So they gave in and found their way 
Amidst the thunder that bellowed
Throwing lightning bolts of lies
What happens when the rain turns on them?
Rather than flying high above others,
With thunderous booms and flashes in the sky
They will be grounded and drenched
By the consequences of their actions
Having to look at themselves
Learning they betrayed their selves, first

Heidi Sands

6/10/18

Premium Member Two Brothers

1969, two boys on the run
But on the run 
To have much fun
 
Monday night, Boys Brigade
Where on this evening
A life will fade
 
The older by two years
Could ran very fast
The youngest in the race
Just couldn't last
 
Corner turned
I'll catch up you'll see
Where you are 
I want to be
 
To reach that corner
I ran and ran
As I lifted my head
My brother hit by a van
 
As I reach the road
I hear screams above the brakes
Screeching tyres
As my world all breaks
 
My brother of nine
Dragged for fifty yards
Under a van 
Body skinned and tarred
 
I stand there trembling
In fear and tears
Slow motion engulfs me
As I shuffle near
 
Panic sets as I turn and run
Past the corner
Where it all began
 
Running back to my father
Shouting Boom Booms dead
Images running through my head
 
My beloved brother
Who could run faster than thee
His life taken in front of me
 
To see what I seen
Just a boy of seven
Watching Angels take his brother to heaven




.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php

Premium Member The Lighthouse

I stand as a sentinel by day and night,
winking my eye to provide sailors light.
Huge waves hit my feet, yet I stay strong,
and I will remain on duty all year long

I love to feel the sea spray on my face,
and try to make the ocean a safer place 
by warning the sailors of jagged rocks,
and guide them safely to local docks.

When fog blocks my view I sound my foghorn,
it booms out so loudly and is there to warn
the sailors of such tempestuous conditions
guiding their ships to much safer positions

The Lighthouse Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
12/16/18

Thundersong

Soft sprinkling shower
Paper rustling in the sky
  A gift is unwrapped

  Quiet is the grass
Awaiting relief that comes
  One drop at a time

  The sky grinds his teeth
He unleashes a wild roar
  His clouds churn with wrath

  Ice rocks hit tin roofs
Ammunition from the sky
  Rings through the air

  The storm sings to me
A love song of cracks and booms
  My favorite kind

Tribute To a Lunatic

A songbird dances on a power line;?
a man in white at a market square
sings, swings, ears to a distant drum—?
a tuneful hum from a frenetic world.

Peace beams out of a warm face—
?beauty of a world not mine—
sees?pink roses, lush hyacinths; rainbow
?hangs low from the blue, defying

the whirl of stormy wind. He soaks
dew-drops and dumb patter-patter.

Yet, before me: a kinky weather,?
wavering stocks, grating headlines?
of bombs and booms and doom;
flying shrapnels whiz overhead.

Screams and screwed up faces
of a distraught race in chains,
in culture that labels the man
a crank, unhinged from reality.

No, in white he is sane and free
as the little bird on the power line;
?as a preening bird about to roost;
as a rooster roaring the dawn.

He sings from deep  recesses
of a true life wired to a source,
?detached from the market square.

© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

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