Best Natural Disasters Poems
Gullies scar brown earth
Hurricanes bring erosion
Of both soil and lives
In nineteen eighteen there was an outbreak of flu
Caused little concern, only affected a few
But it returned with a vengeance later that year
And the world over it caused widespread fear.
First reported in Spain, and around the world spread
When it was over, fifty million people were dead
Hospitals were stretched and they struggled to cope
For both young and old, there wasn't much hope.
It affected the lungs and caused skin to turn blue
Only comfort was given it was all they could do
In effect it caused people to suffocate
And continued to spread at an alarming rate.
People advised to avoid crowds and to wear masks
They struggled to perform even basic daily tasks
Remote areas in the world were affected too
By this airborne killer virus, the great Spanish flu.
Effort's were made to slow down this disease
But slowly and surely it brought the world to its knees
Shops opening times were staggered all over the lands
People strongly advised not to shake hands.
Undertakers were struggling to cope with demands
Families' buried loved ones with their own hands
Healthy men and women and children too
Were all falling victim to the great Spanish flu.
Because of World War One, doctors were few
And those that were available, many fell sick too
Temporary hospital's set up in schools or church hall
With many brave volunteers answering the call.
They closed many schools, services were hit too
With workers struck down by this merciless flu
Late nineteen nineteen the virus reached its peak
Immunity grew stronger but it still struck the weak.
Sadly mankind had suffered and paid a great cost
To the great Spanish flu with millions of lives lost
The pandemic was now over, survivors started to thrive
But were mournful of the millions who did not survive.
Written 4th April 2018.
( Dedicated to the fifty million people who died
in the Spanish flu pandemic in the years 1918 to 1919. )
Ted enjoys a quick roll in the hay...
He’s sleeping with his buxom P A
She confirmed she’s with child
Ted baulked, then got quite riled
I wonder what his wife’s got to say!
5/26/18
With broken hearts we turn to You
Our tears cannot help those in need
To countless souls we bid adieu
And hope You listen as we plead
Bahamians need Your blessing
While they try to rebuild their homes
Dorian still keeps them guessing
As through the streets the homeless roam
Take pity on this island nation
Where families lost all they had
Starving, hopeless in devastation
Many still missing, and all so sad
If Dorian’s swift, salty surge
Carried many souls out to sea
Please help their families emerge
Stronger in the Isle of Free
For from the states some slaves escaped
To build better lives in Freeport
Blankets of flowers are now draped
On coffins bearing lives cut short
Written September 13, 2019
For Regina Riddle’s “Write a Psalm” Poetry Contest
Italian restaurant; pasta and wine - red, like the eyes of a bat,
Screeching from a cave, dark as the eyes of a snowman,
Coal plucked from a bucket, the mop was deposed -
By the broom, new sovereign of all instruments
Resound with the trumpet on Everest’s peak
High as a clown doused with vodka,
Watery eyes drip deep to the void.
Abyss without meaning that threatens to consume all life -
In an Italian restaurant.
Makeup: lonely face and painted smile
Dark hole: crying into nothing
Hell exists after all. It claws towards me,
Dragging me down and holding me tight.
Then I am lifted, eyes flashing.
It is my turn at the abyss….
Another stares down to me as I reach up with spindly hands.
Seaweed turtle abyss
Smoke, Poodles! Mystic Weed.
Touching on my friends tweed.
Baloomp he goes as his red nose falls off.
Falling to the ground forever like a knife at my throat.
Help me the glassy shine remains, slicing through the endless vacuum of time.
Below may be aliens, enemies, frenemies, or even God? But all I know is the megladown stops me from reaching thee in the black hole below and above- an abyss of loss an abyss of soul an abyss of time has made me its fool. Baloomp he says to me. Awakened I see nothing. Nothing. Nothing and me.
28 February 2020
Written for "Clown at the Abyss" contest, sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Kyoko walks alone in the morning tide,
comforted for a fleeting moment by salty air.
She feels the same sand between her toes
as when she was a barefoot little girl, in a time
she felt safe, when the eyes of her mother protected her
like a suit of armor - before the mighty wall of water,
the “harbor wave”, towered over her village
near Fukushima, washing her happy childhood away.
Her dear mother, her security, her everything
never came home that day.
Many months later, her father, a local fisherman,
has lost his ability to cry, laugh or tell her why.
His silent eyes, cold as frost, are dead
like the poisoned fish he nets every morning.
In many ways, Kyoko lost both of her parents
on that haunting day - forced to grow up long before
the water receded, before the nuclear leak,
before this new, austere existence.
Night deepens the despair. She is loneliest
when darkness invades. She prays for the crickets
return. They no longer sing her to sleep, and the stars
have faded, no longer shining through her open window.
Even the grasshoppers have died…
from restless sleep, night calls her to the mirror
to find her mother’s dark eyes staring back at her –
a curse she hopes will one day become a blessing,
a hope that one day her father will look at her again...
With tomorrow, her greatest burden will return.
She will wake along side the broken-winged butterfly
with her duties in mind. Then, she’ll wear her stoic face
to the marketplace. Father says he will soon lose
his fishing boat. She has heard visitors from the city say
only a fool would eat the fish from nearby waters,
the same fish she fries most every day. No one knows
the global impact, they say. She hears foreign words
like radiation, disease and mutation while she sells
the shiso and wasabi root from their garden stand,
feeling fear she does not fully understand but one day will.
She only knows how to survive today…
For Debbie Guzzi's Global Poetry Contest, 11/19/14
Blind panic
There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance
The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.
Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright
As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.
Vera Duggan 16 August 2014.
tempest stomps her feet
as she shakes her liquid skirt
knee deep in N'awlins
On the eastern shore, she knocked on our door
Then drifted away to the west
She then turned north, and steadily forth
With rage upon her crest
As she gathered force, On a steady course
To a land below the sea
Too Unaware, or unprepared
For such a tragedy
Toppling of homes, the shredding of domes
of a wind that relentlessly blows
All the terrain, was flooded with rain
When the lake did overflow
And then she passed, and none to fast
This city beneath the sea
Leaving this flood, which carries our blood
Through a land of misery.
Hurricane Katrina
St Helens, volatile lady,
Is letting off some steam.
She is seething now with anger.
We know not to what extreme.
I remember the eruption in
The year of ninety-eighty.
That fierce outburst proved her to be
A quite hot-headed lady.
She will not tell what ticked her off.
She gets her satisfaction,
Not from talk or boastfulness.
She articulates with action.
So take your puny instruments
And foolish speculations.
She well may have surprise in store
Beyond all expectations.
Don't tramp on her abundant skirts;
That tends to irritate her.
This lady's incensed enough now,
You're foolish if you bait her.
She's given you fair warning
And if you take her dare
You can't run far enough to get
Her ash out of your hair.
By Joyce
Many times the ocean
has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea,
an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see.
The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide.
The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil
or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones.
Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own
scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform.
With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born
with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested
tested by the hand of He,
tested and found worthy.
The children of the Divine Wind
rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.
In my vantage-point the vast oceans are warming,
The sea levels are rising, while today is melting,
Cracking thick ice-shields crowning Artic, Antarctic
And ferocious intensity is churning Atlantic, Pacific,
As yesteryear in rear view flashes blunt warnings,
And future is admonishing~ morrow is drowning.
Snow-white Alps, soon forgotten dreams of past,
Rockies, Himalayas, barren as dethroned crowns,
Productive farming lands, infertile lacking rainfall,
Breeze of winsome winds, belching carbon dioxide,
Elixir of life poisoned by chemicals in water supply,
Paradise on earth soiled by callous human assault.
Proponents believe it’s true, deniers claim it’s false,
It’s an inexplicable dialogue of a human paradox,
Some assert it’s here now, others are nonchalant;
Tomorrow is troubled~ warns the flipped hourglass.
God! here comes the flood, here comes the storm,
Here come the disasters, hurricanes and cyclones,
Here comes the famine, here comes the drought,
Here on our display~ are shortcomings and faults.
Raise your voice, shout aloud~ dares anxious heart,
Apocalypse now! clamors an ubiquitous time clock,
Time to act is now, commands a flipped hourglass,
Before shore-lands vanish and coastal towns drown,
Before the earth’s scorched, before life is parched;
Before the game’s over, before checkmate is called.
February 8, 2022
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 28 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Flipped Hourglass
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
They hailed her as the empress of the waves
Supreme upon the ocean’s vast domain,
Yet those who watched her launch, and bid ‘Godspeed’,
Could never have foreseen her fleeting reign.
She left Southampton heading for New York;
The sky above was somewhat overcast.
Such hopes and dreams were riding on her bow,
But this first voyage proved to be her last.
The pinnacle of luxury and ease
Awaited wealthy passengers on board,
Whilst crystal chandeliers to music swayed,
A toast to life was raised and champagne poured.
On lower decks the entertainment lacked
Yet children made the most of little space.
Locked heavy gates were purposed to divide
And keep the third-class steerage in their place.
But when disaster struck the glacial path
And frozen waters threatened souls of men,
Proud opulence and rank would count as naught;
Humanity was equal once again.
25/03/19
Titanic - Fare Thee Well Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Tom Woody
'2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 27' : sponsored by Mark Toney
A Noteworthy Ship Poetry Contest : sponsored by Robert James Liguori
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 …