Best Perfect Storm Poems
from the forest, deep, she came
like a jaguar, quietly prowling
drawn there by my late-day flame
typhoon in the distance howling
black hair with a coal-blue sheen
eyes like ink and faultless gold
linen sun dress, white and clean
tawdry tan, with charms, untold
white-cap sea foam licked the sun
then softly tasted sweet, its bright
slo-melting on that briny tongue
and sav'ring still, the fading light
there beside the aqua ocean
palm fronds laid in proper form
with sublime and torrid motion
we let loose our perfect storm
high above, the Perseids streaming
wept the sky, with tears of fire
wishes granted - we, so dreaming
meant for fools to thus inspire
flightless angel birthed in darkness
wrapped me in her pinions, warm
sacred embers, cold and sparkless
burning for that summer storm ...
lost in her - my perfect storm.
In an open field of endless, noiseless distance,
Rolling clouds cast an impending gloom;
A welcomed and promised darkness descends.
My eyes shut as I breathe in the aroma,
In anticipation of
The cleansing that quickly approaches.
I cloak myself in the breeze, as it promises a release..
The cool wind, calming, so gently serene...
Sweeping over my overheated skin.
Finally, the fury is perfectly unleashed down upon me.
The winds, gusting in a frenzied rush
My hair whipping haphazardly around,
Stinging at my face.
I smirk toward the sky, as I silently, but eagerly
Await the onslaught -
This desperate release that I longed for in secret.
It sought me out, and found me.
I hear the angry sounds
The roaring, begging to weep alongside me.
When suddenly, the violent tears begin to fall
With a sudden, breathtaking destructiveness.
The thunder, like me, cries out in pain,
With such sadness, angry liquid bathing the parched earth.
It saturates my face, my body drenched.
As I stand in the midst of the deluge, in awe,
Crashing winds attempt to destroy me,
But cannot find the strength.
Until the tears eventually run dry,
The painful clashes and cries become silent..
The skies yield to light, as the great and
Terrible sun demands to be seen.
I open my tear-stained eyes,
And glimpse a different world before me...
Cleansed and made new.
And I cannot understand, nor
Fathom the reality...
Of the beautifully, perfect
Broken release.
She tried to drown out the noise
of all their mocking laughter.
Booming thunder shook the world
and lightening came quickly after.
She watched the storm above her head
with sadness in her eyes.
The pain had come again like rain
falling from the skies.
Dark gray clouds formed overhead
with no sunlight to come through.
The glowing rays were scattered away
and never got to you.
But no one came to rescue her,
there was nothing left but rain.
Even though the storm subsided;
she drowned in all her pain.
Beyond the bay the sun peeked over waves;
calm belied what destiny would tell.
A statue peers where sailors served and gave,
so far from Gloucester shores where seagulls yell.
So far from sheltered harbor's gentle swells.
Undaunted sailors dared the Flemish Cap -
too far, as nature mixed a hopeless trap.
Like hungry beasts tempt fate to catch their prey
and stray beyond their tribal hunting grounds;
the George's Bank was left to stern that day
to go where surely greater catch abounds.
But while their hold was filled with bounty found,
two angry storms swirled in a deadly dance
and left the Andrea Gail without a chance.
Her captain turned for port but could not know
such wrath of nature blocked their pathway home,
and all the crew on wings of Angels glowed -
the face of God to trust and not to roam.
Though oft in tumult's grasp they will bemoan
and think to sell their souls on devil's waves,
yet safe in Heaven's grasp they will be brave.
RIP October 28, 1991
A storm is brewing...
If you listen closely
Hold your breath
Close your eyes
Cock your head
And…really listen,
You’ll hear it –
You’ll hear
the deafening sound of silence!
There’s a reign of hush
all over the landscape
engulfed in deep shadows,
And your heart starts pounding
You get a feeling of foreboding,
There is no wind
No rustling of the leaves,
You look up
The sky hanging heavy and laden,
Thick rolling clouds
gray and pregnant with moisture
Bursting at the seams—
There’s this state of brooding disquietude.
Then you hear a slight rustle,
Suddenly you look up in time
to see a leaf quiver,
But again, a breath-taking silence…
And then, in the gathering gloom,
A blinding lightning,
Like someone just flashed
a giant camera in your face!
For a split second you see
all the trees standing dark
and hunched over like chained slaves,
Standing in a row
tired, beat and hopeless
of what’s to come next.
The earth beneath your feet
tremble under an ear-splitting,
earth-shattering clap of thunder
rumbling like a distant cannon fire.
And then like a thousand Niagaras
The rain starts bearing down
with jihadi fervor
water-logging the earth,
Like the heavens bursting into tears,
Like the ocean caught up in a spasm;
Then you understand, you feel,
In every pore of your skin,
The awesome fury of Nature.
~03/25/16
~A Storm is Brewing contest by Kelly Deschler
A bluster of transcending obscurity became a moment of weakness.
Saturated in a tempest of mourning, I sought out the perfect storm.
No violence could save my soul, no silence could whisper relief.
Only time could release my fear, only clouds could give me ease.
I ponder and squander, I search for comfort. I am dumbfounded by
each bolt of lightning, I am disturbed by the roar of thunder.
With each sanctified and holy attribute, I know not why I have
fallen into the abyss of the pouring rain. I have searched for years,
and found nothing but a cyclone of commotion.
Love is not yet endured in my heart,
my existence has been tampered with.
Messy and confused she rises from the rising eastern sun with grace.
She is flawed and faultless all in one. She sees me with wholeness,
an absolute being, not the fractured and weak man that I am.
For I was born with deficiencies, she was born a crazed hurricane with
a beautiful essence.
She is naturally untidy with a smile to die for. She is a holy sin, and
I am in love with her kaleidoscope of personalities.
I am nothing but a raging hurricane...
and she is my perfect storm.
A Perfect Storm
October 4, 2017
an imperfect storm
does less harm
than a perfect one
a predilection
for perfection
and I am undone
wave
towers
ship struggles
Andrea Gail
lost
*For Royal's Favorite Movie contest. The Perfect Storm was
based on a true story. The Andrea Gail and its crew were
never found.
Rain bombards the earth
Thunder roars with aggression
Lightening fills the sky
Bored with a tawdry sanguine summer
Languidly
She licks the brilliant summer blue
from the sun addicted sky
Through naughty cloudy lips
Sucks millenniums of genetic grace from
Orchestrated flocks of fright
Fleeing down the age old
path of migratory birds
safe no more
With a westward huff
She
Casts them out randomly
Spews
Squawking streams of wing 'ed broken teeth.
Enraptured with her own manuevers--
Naked now she twirls
Reaps magnificent carnal powers
Roiling In a screaming bath of sacrificial sailors
Flicks her ice tossed coiffure
Lingering in her savage beauty
She bestows heartless wet kisses
on sailors' upturned sightless eyes--
Bloodless slaves forever bound.
Sated
She whips through frigid seas
Disbanding archipelago chains
Paper-like streamers frothy in her wake.
Tempestuous Goddess of Accidental Largesse
To her survivors,
breathless in darkness,
She provides salty tears as recompense
Heading
South
before she sleeps.
-----------------------------------------------
Valdez, Alaska by the shores of Prince William Sound
Nov 2014 night after a hurricane
A perfect storm they had created.
Two lovers destined to be mated.
Living life upon the edge.
Forged in crime, their love was pledged.
Wanted posters with each name.
Loved and feared, the pair became.
Evading law from state to state.
Alas, this was to be their fate.
Romanticized through history.
Sprinkled with some mystery.
Running, hiding till the end.
Celebrities, some may contend.
The two had once been quite mundane.
They hungered to be free of plain.
And even now they are well-known.
From need and want their seeds were sown.
For Nette Onclaud’s ‘Soul Partners’ contest
Bonnie and Clyde
By Samia Ali Arroyo
The perfect storm
rising from the bed
where i pretend i sleep
spotted in a sea
millions of words deep
do i dare to dream?
for years i screamed a warning
through my amplifier pen
my life and love your push and shove
and the places i have been
everything's past tense
there's the way things are
and the way they should be
but the past is a prison
and there isn't a key
rear projection tomorrow
in the past i am a flower
in the future i was a seed
the warmest winter of my life
just before the summers freeze
the compass needle spun
now the waters stand to rise
from hard rains fallen in my blood
pooling into who i am
about to make my dreams a flood
i am the perfect storm
and if the rivers overflow
and come and quench my land of drought
will you admit you're wrong and drown?
or will you called to be pulled out
from a one way street
Fallen deeply roams
Amongst Realms within spaces
Of nuded attire
Enhanced by a matching pair
Received stars on red carpet
Snapped allured affairs
Of cupids dart shot in sight
Igniting Fire
To which inside shines brightly
Of a perfect storm weathered
It roared in the skies, as friends and foes
ran for their dear lives. The skies were red
and ember, like a hot coal. Everything miles away in the air,
seemed to burn and fall like poorly fixed Christmas lights;
someone coldly joked that the gods were hibernating -
his shirt smelled like firewood mixed with burning rubber.
Long before the storms, wind, water, earth and fire
were celebrated as the elements which brought forth life,
only for the same life to contaminate the four elements
in the labs, with intent of annihilating nations.
Yes, we humans are the said lifeforms -
our thoughts evolved, reaching the stars!
Somehow we got deluded, believing that we were gods
on earth, turning our wheel of fate.
The wheel of fate then turned against humanity,
crashing his ideals, histories and identity
with his own ego....
Perfect rhyme scheme soothes my ear,
Its rhythmic sequence subtly sways,
Lyrical images appear,
Excelling in iambic pace.
A perfect poem in and about -
Feather’s glory but above all -
It turns my senses inside out
Suffonsifies my seeking soul.
So where do I derive it from?
From the inside of outer form -
a Perfect Storm!
April 5, 2023