Best Hurricanes Poems
All you do
All you say
All you write
In the jasmine garden
Is a frenzied drum
Bludgeoning me to dumb
Intensely numb
I feel
As I reel
Yes
As you come
Rising on tides
Passion overflowing
Deluge in the veins
In a hurricane
You dominate
You violate
You annihilate
My stability
My balance
My tranquility
My nonchalance
You seek to
Sweep me off my feet
I resist
To be devastatingly kissed
Who does want
A plundered restaurant
I hold breath
But you hit underneath
With your tremendous vigour
A wild rigour
Breaking all norm
Of rhythm and form
You become
The fierce Atlantic storm
From head to toe
Fast or slow
Everything you claim
You monster hurricane
In a primitive joy
You destroy
Spears and arrows you employ
Pull down and enjoy
In a poor coordination
I reach my limitation
And surrender
Before your violence
And horror
Frantically you tear
All the roses there
The tendrils of hair
The hymns of prayer
Whether in Florida
Or in Miami
Riding on reckless liberty
Everywhere the same misery
Either Katrina or Irene
Harvey or Irma
The same surging ocean
The same commotion
You flood me with
I groan beneath
I have to writhe
And wriggle as fiercely you breathe
Well now as you are quieted
Having deconstructed
All my emotions
Are now back to the ocean
Give me your resilience
The ocean’s brilliance
Let me reconstruct and create
My new cup and chocolate
My balance
In the new circumstance
In future if you need to come
Come with tribal drum
Played by striking with sticks
In the nerves crimson kicks
Come in drizzling ice and gentle rains
Not in tornadoes and hurricanes
Please …
You
mirror
my pain in
deep lines of dark
thunder within a jar of hurricanes
mocking the sorrow I sing in silence
watching sadness
vaporise
as I
grieve
and
quiver
to the tunes
of piercing walls
where shadows of regret dance to the moon
The Seasonal family
of Mother Nature
and Father Time
When it comes to
a family reunion,
they are never far behind.
Winter, Spring, Summer
and Fall.
With her daughter
always on the ball.
Mother Nature’s
first born, Weather.
She is not as predictable
as we would like to think.
Weather may be
in the mood for
named hurricanes
or devastating tornadoes.
She'll place water spouts
over the ocean.
She may feel like a little
Wind, Rain, Sleet and Snow.
Weather has been known
to let a blizzard blow.
A drought in the desert
together goes well
with scorching heat,
and on some occasions
she has been known
to give us hail
in the middle of
a thunderstorm.
Just to let you know
Weather is always
on the go.
Hurricanes Up Close And Personal
As of this writing, Florence is intensifying and threatening the shores of the Carolinas. She is dangerous, even in her early stages and may pattern herself after Katrina or Irma. Should she do so, the candles, oil lamps, flashlights, matches, and other essential items will be in great demand. Do your shopping early lest you be caught unawares. Evacuate if directed and do not adopt the attitude that you will be okay if you stay. Drowning men grasp at straws, but drown nevertheless. How long can you stay afloat? Don't be like the man who refused help from others by saying "God will take care of me". He ignored the boat who stopped by, and a helicopter that hovered above him and he perished in the storm. When he reached the Pearly Gate, he queried God as to why He failed to spare him. God's answer was, "you missed the boat", "and the helicopter I sent". So, I ask the question again --- "How long can you stay afloat?"
8 September 2018
For the contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
Picture No. 4
Continued from Part 1
The Beggars ’neath the balustrades,
and broken Children, Chambermaids,
are running wild from wraiths, afraid
of dreams where death redoubles.
They fritter time with tattered threads
(from ragged clothes they’ve left in shreds),
crocheting hoods to hide their heads
and faces, full of rubble.
But many things will not remain
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
when goblets filled with cool champagne
evaporate in bubbles.
The White-Robed Maid adorns the trash
with charnel urns awash in ash,
then fumbles with an untied sash
while pacing in the Palace.
Her hopes congeal in coffee spoons
with memories adrift in dunes;
yet, still she smiles with teeth like prunes
and lips of painted callus.
And long before the midnight drains,
the Saviour wakes, the Loser gains,
the waters of the Hurricanes
will fill her empty chalice.
The storm (behind the clarinets,
the silver flutes, the castanets,
the foghorns belching in quartets,
the bagpipes, puffed and swollen)
is keeping time to tambourines
while Tom Thumb and the Four-Inch Queen,
pick up the shards and smithereens
of moments lost or stolen.
They’re trekking through the Dim Domains
(where fountains weep, the mountain wanes),
yet can’t escape the Hurricanes
with trundling eyes patrollin’.
The Crowds (arrayed in jewels) in jails,
stoop, peering through a fence of nails
while light behind their eyeballs pales
with plastic flame that sputters.
They huddle there because they must
(with eyelids hung like peeling rust,
their tears, palled pellets in the dust),
behind the bolted shutters.
They’ll reawake without their pains
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
without their sores, without their stains,
their agonies will fill the drains
and overflow the gutters.
End
Hurricanes howling from tropical storms.
Under watch and warning, everyone waits.
Radar shows rotating clouds taking form.
Rain bands flood roads as downpours inundate.
Intensity grows; winds accelerate.
Conditions worsen, each moment seems tense
As buildings strain with winds lashing against.
No one feels safe; we think, is this the one?
Eye at last passes, and once danger ends
Survivors emerge to check damage done.
8/31/2016
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
Nature’s wrath supreme
Tearing down humanity
Human grace denied
Storm coming to town
Hurricanes so dangerous
Winds and water
You touch me with tender words
of how much you adore me
my dreams are about you
and all those tender things
I want to do
no other man could make me happier
we are one and that is the truth
together for a lifetime
through hurricanes and rainbows
you make being in love so simple
A single hug and kiss and I always remember
we belong together
even though we are debris
we can be rebuilt into something amazing
not many people get to this point by now
Instead of moving on without the other
we are learning to grow together
while hatching baby chicks
playing with puppies
and traveling around the US signing books
Paw paw, Maw maw loves you!
Jose, Harvey, Irma, Gert,
Cat. Five puts us on alert.
Howsoever they are named,
Mother's fury can't be tamed.
Churning, roiling, liquid wall,
looming four-plus metres tall.
Floods of biblical expanse,
survival just happenstance.
Wind whipped into lethal squall,
hammers those trapped in its thrall.
Sturdy palm trees battered flat,
Man and beast lost habitat.
Follow devastation's trail,
turmoil on a global scale.
Home and business torn apart,
plucking at strings of the heart.
Lacking basic requisites,
in amongst the detritus.
Mourning all that has been lost,
how begin to count the cost?
Thank the selfless volunteers,
who assist their stalwart peers.
Former tropic paradise,
scene of noble sacrifice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
11 September 2017
My thoughts and best wishes go out to all those affected by the catastrophic weather in the Caribbean and the United States.
For the "Hurricanes" contest, sponsored by Julie Rodeheaver.
(5th Place)
Hurricane by any name is a dreaded beast
Monster winds guide every turn and twist
Clouds cluster in enormous darker shapes
Heated moisture dominates form they take
Dressed in cloudy eye-wall winds rotate
High gusting speeds foretell its arrival date
As eye of the storm approaches a landfall
Communities begin making evacuation calls
Stocking food and water families buckle down
Gas lines form as people begin to leave town
Death and destruction mount as storm lands
Streets and homes quickly become wetlands
Emergency shelters crowd beyond capacity
FEMA takes charge with speed and tenacity
Congress passes legislation to grant funding
Affected folks are unsure of their standing
Trash piles up burying childhood memories
Cleanup begins without hope of recoveries
Donations flow to charities like Red Cross
Insurance may recoup some of storm loss
They arrive sequentially in alphabet names
Leaving untold shattered lives in their wake
Placed 1st
September 9, 2017
Hurricanes
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
Winds cause the damage.
They say time will heal all wounds.
Rejoice in the thought!
By: Misty Leccese
© June 19, 2009
Heat conjured the atmosphere, conception began
Upsurge in pressures stirs water, birthing Nature’s Giants
Roaring sound with mixed helicopter-lion, ranting on the ocean
Ready to visit nearby lands, better prepare, don’t run!
Immersion is so strong, horrifying wind at 120 to 200 mphour
Can’t be controlled, God keep us safe if we stick to prayers
Apart not of our life, visitors of our nation several times a year
Nearest to coastal areas are more on danger and at risk.
Embrace reality, brace their atrocity but trust our Father Almighty
Safety is also yours on evacuation, don’t postpone my Dearie!
Sept.12, 2017 6.03am
Third Place
Contest: Hurricanes
Judged:9/12/2017
Sponsor: Poet Julie Rodeheaver
They paused neath a tortured moon
whence delusions met ocean tides,
eliciting a volatile hurricane's vortex
masking intentions in the sand,
whilst escaping horizons surrender
under disillusionment of passion
in posthaste of sunlit warnings
hidden amidst clandestine shadows,
wherein night no longer shaded love
CONTEST 247 any form - Brian Strand