Best Disaster Poems
Beautiful Disaster
There she is
Silhouette in the night
Lights glimmer, as fame simmers
She is all of my desires
She is all of my fires
Here I am wet
Flooded with pain
There she is dry
As a desert rain
Her beauty rouge bleeding into my soul
I wash my hands
I wash my meaningless life
Of sins and woes
Alcohol in the sails
As I fade to seas far away
She at my feet
Singing her lovers lullaby
Me in the wind
Of sadness’s despair
The air soon to confess a sin
All my life, no lover in the morning bed
No future for a chance to wed
There she is now so devoted
Yet here we both are so bloated
Throats cut and floating
On a rivers dream
Cause you see no one gets how hard it is to fix back into shape when you’re broken,
Shattered,
I think it’s just mathematically, scientifically impossible to get the pieces back perfect,
Because in the process some pieces may have been lost,
Lost and cannot be found,
Cause I found it was so hard to every get over you,
But it looked so easy to you,
Cause maybe you never feel as deep as you said you did,
I fell deep into your lies and your beautiful eyes and it’s just so hard to move on,
Hard to move on, because you left piece of your soul inside me, the exact moment you decided to get inside me,
Despite our use of protection, it didn’t protect the sexually connection,
No it’s not an internet connection that you can easily disconnect from, but it’s almost permanent,
Yes you permanently hurt me ,
And you watch me with those eyes and that grin cause I, the fool gave you the thing,
The thing that I promise that I wouldn’t give until marriage,
I willingly disobeyed God for you,
Cause you became my God,
I worshipped you,
I loved you with every inch of me,
And now we’re inches from being strangers and I have to get over you,
I’m sure to be careful next time around,
Because I can’t afford to break the pieces of my heart that are left dangling .
The whistles screamed that cold dark night
Winter, 1903
At least fourteen would perish
Way out on the prairie
The westbound Sunset Limited,
Eastbound Crescent City Express,
Met head on in a collision
Lives lost in great distress
Horror met the rescuers
Two twisted trains in flames
Of fourteen known to've perished
Of two, were not found names
A hundred plus years later,
On the date and pre-dawn hour
We'd come to the memorial plaque
With Teddy bears and flowers
Holding our thoughts in silence
We walked along the trail
Remembering the violence;
Their deaths upon that rail
Precisely 2:50 A.M
What was it? We don't know
But in our silent vigil
We heard a whistle blow
Sounding clear across the night
Once long, Three short, Last long
But there was nothing in our sight
Praying - we moved along
Our memorial under silver stars
For those perished on the track
Ended as we got in cars
With one last look-
a century back
We'll never solve the mystery
But do we need to know?
Commemorating history
We heard a whistle blow
We arrived at the airport quite late
My passport was months out of date
My husband was snappy
The baby filled its nappy
I just stood there and got quite irate
The pilot had been on the pop
On the runway he couldn't stop
He just missed a tree
Stopped off for a pee
Now his career is facing the chop
Our hotel was two star not four
Cockroaches crawled on the floor
We got a terrible fright
In the middle of the night
A tornado blew off our door
Written for Vacation Humor Contest Sponsored By Carolyn Devonshire
07~23~14
I saw a prostitute walking at night,
With high heels, ten inches, oh what a fright;
She lost her balance, crashing,
And her goods she was flashing,
Watching her get up was really a sight.
______________________
February 18, 2016
Poetry/Limerick/High Heel Disaster
Copyright Protected, ID 16-759-173-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Limerick Contest II- For Fun
sponsor, Jan Allison
First Place
If you ever visit South Wales do go and see
The location of what was an awful tragedy
Famous for the wrong reasons the town of Aberfan
Suffered an unspeakable horror that was caused by man.
On the twenty first of October at nine fifteen
Was the worst mining disaster that Wales had ever seen
A spoil tip that had been piled high just above the town
Was loosened by rainwater and came crashing down.
Pantglas junior school was just below in its path
Children ready for lessons at their desks' they were sat
The tip hit the school a hundred and forty four died
When the news was released the whole nation cried.
Volunteers came and they dug down quite deep
The teachers and children were already 'asleep'
A farmhouse and cottages with people inside
They too lost their lives in the thundering mudslide.
In the horrific events twenty five did survive
Were found by the rescuers shocked but alive
Painful memories they have of what happened that day
It's a terrible burden they carry that won't go away.
A memorial garden marks the spot where they died
And on a hillside they're buried side by side
Their little white markers are harrowing to see
A stark reminder of that awful tragedy.
(Dedicated to all those who lost their lives at
Aberfan on that fateful morning of 21st October 1966)
Written on 21st November 2017.
Bowing to the mighty ocean
Relentless is her pull,
Into the blue depths
'Til she's good and full
Ice took it's first shot
As steady we ran right in,
Sailing along so freely
As a whale on his fin
Crashing, just scraping by
Then onto a dead stop,
I write this letter now
While I sit safe atop
The iron walls creak
The frigid waters seep,
Tilting the floorboards and
The last tears I weep
A message in a bottle
Dropped into the blue,
Do pardon my absence...
I shall not be joining you.
Rain-Desperate Times
Days and weeks of rain
has come down hard and fast
desperate times prevail
I'm looking for the dejavu
that should be caught to contemplate
the miss, near miss of circumstance
the hand that brushed us by, by chance
I'm looking for the accident
that blew up seconds after us
with cars colliding and the rest
(it's just a brush with introspect)
I'm feeling back for that one time
an undertow, the killing kind
nipped weakly with the tip of tongue
I passed it by, for I was young
And what about the storm of storms
(it swirled to heights above the norm)
and yet our house was still untouched,
I think of it, but not that much
I'm really bent on days of you
when we were one instead of two
As all the wonder came and went
I left you there by accident...
it can be a market crash
a global outbreak
it can be a Mount Saint Helen
for me it was Northridge, California
January 17th, 1994
I saw myself in the eyes of children
hungry, shocked, confused
clinging to mothers
their reality and the earth
both trembling underfoot
I was given no script, no rules to follow
all that was asked of me was empathy
to understand, to be one of God's children
to see nothing more became an eligibility factor
one man came bruised, bludgeoned
his stare a chisel to stone
the truth echoing from his wife
her face, her words
the doors that he crumbled
the force of his mission
to save neighbors
dozens if not more
how he flew under media scrutiny
sitting before me
my heart the only thing between them
and the miracle of sustenance
I became severed
then placed the gift of humanity
squarely at their feet
A GIFT FROM THE GODS
Beginning with a negative isn't always wrong
We have our own version of where we belong
The universe can be a theatre of creation
Bursts of energy ignites the occasion
Colours, explosions with glowing beams
A beautiful and poetic start to scene
However, darkness echoes its demonic wail
Creating a beast only the devil could scale
Awoken and excited it comes alive
Anything in it's way will not survive
A disheveled speck of space dust
Has Armageddon inside its crust
Following a path toward its fate
Entangled within a force so great
A global disaster is about to unfold
The devastation of humanity foretold
Now approaching its final plot
Its hideous face beginning to rot
The falling 'angel' attacks with might
The deafening tone follows its plight
Mountains drowning in waters so deep
A strike so hard it made the earth weep
This is the beginning of their end you see
Passed down generation to our family tree
This is an untold story of our past
So how do we expect mankind to last
We cannot forget what the people had seen
Their struggles, pain, and nothing in-between
Within this catastrophic event they faced
They sacrificed so much to save our race
This is "A GIFT FROM THE GODS" it states
Not just a gift, a test of life awaits
And as I sit and write this today
Validation humanity did not decay
This is acknowledgement for that day
For those who saved us from extinction
A debt we can never repay.
The corona virus has crippled the
Economy and the nation
It seems to be on a death trip
Killing everyone it comes
In contact with
With several businesses having to
Closed their doors temporarily
Creates several problems
Like a recession
Businesses can’t pay the workers
If they’re not at work
How will people pay their bills
And have a roof over their heads
It’ll cause people to be homeless
It’s already taken away our social life
Causing people to feel like
Tuna in a can
It’s becoming worse and wide spread
That the shelves in stores are empty
With the items we need the most
Wipes and hand sanitizer
With a deadly virus upon us
Plus the start of a recession and
Hurricane season coming up
What’s to become of us now
Pray and pray hard
Even though it looks bad
Don't lose your faith
Indigenous your home
Incomprensible
Indestructable ship
Indecisive captain
Interrupted this trip
Impression of safety
Indelible losses
Disaster is imminent
shout the popular press
and the anointed
from lofty pulpits. Wars,
pestilence, earthquakes,
divine wrath are about
to be visited
upon a wayward world.
Meanwhile, a lovely still
has settled on the surface
of the river and has become
a canvas for a pair
of swans on which to trace
their brief passage across
a mirrored morning.
Beauty seems so fragile,
tethered to a moment
when the sublime manifests
itself through a tear in time
and gives pause
to the march of armies,
the self caused calamities
that rush towards
our little, insignificant lives
and illuminates
the sad distances we have
opened up between ourselves
and what burns brightly
at the centre of things -
these lovely mirrored mornings
to which our stiffened backs
are turned.
an aphid on a
leaf. hold on with all your might!
a storm is coming!