Best Tornadic Poems
The warm temperature drops outdoors,
And first drops of fresh rain sprinkle.
The thunder claps right above me,
As lightening is striking afar.
Dust is blowing in the wind,
Trees are bending fiercely,
A train horn blares,
As the core nears me.
Then sudden silence,
A calm reappears.
Electrical fires start,
For a moment one
Thinks it’s over,
Then it starts
Again quickly.
Passing by my
Home taking
My neighbors,
Tin flying by,
The tornado
Fades, look
At all the
Damage.
And I
Am
Uns
c
a
t
h
e
d.
My poem is about Tornadic weather and evokes
Water in, 'first drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Wind in, 'Trees are bending fiercely'
Earth in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Metal in 'Tin flying by'
Fire in, 'Electrical fires start'
Feeling in 'The warm temperature drops outdoors'
Smell in 'First drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Taste in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Sight in, Lightening is striking afar'
Hearing in 'A train horn blares'
_____________________________
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi's
Five Senses / Five Elements contest.
Categories:
tornadic, natural disastersrain, flying, rain,
Form:
Concrete
Your thought-balloons are filled with wild and magical freedom ~
until madness seizes your think tank
trapping your ceaselessly chirping ideas
within the teeth of its snapped steel-jaws
refusing to relinquish you; lest you chew up and spit out your mind-racing brain
ire over this cognitive quagmire is quite understandable ~
like the murmuration of startled starlings
amassing in angst and taking wing
your thoughts, your second thoughts and afterthoughts
gather in pulsating dark masses
swirling into flight and shifting directions
turbulently twisting into tornadic spins
unable or unwilling to unravel and unwind
as they hurl themselves
in a pessimistic panic
through the maze of gray matter minefields
not wanting to explode their legs-to-stand-on should they alight...
...and despite butterfly nets vying to capture them
they are whirling dervishes twirling out of control --
holding your damnation in a state of suspended animation
Susan Ashley
March 24, 2018
Categories:
tornadic, angst, pain, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
About April
Oh, April, thou art fickle;
We know why April Fools
Belongs to you.
Tornadic surprises, and yet
While our feet are getting wet;
Colors burst into natural umbrellas.
Oh, April, thou art fickle;
You stand in front of Winter man,
And dare his sneaky return plan.
We’ll take your interim joy between
‘Til May’s maturity of spring
Weds itself to summer.
Categories:
tornadic, april, seasons,
Form:
I’ve come back to the place where I had grown,
a place no more as it once was known.
Not a roof, not a room, not one wall left,
just an old, weathered chimney standing alone.
An ill-tempered wind swept from the hillside tops
that spun relentlessly through the leafless copse
and across fallow fields long now disused
that once had yielded sustaining crops.
The skies oblique with murmurations
of small black birds that, without hesitation,
alit, then rose in tornadic swirls
of airborne dances without cessation.
A tractor sat solemnly by a clattering gate
now a rusted reminder that time won't wait.
And the path that wound to the moldering shed
overrun with thistles that sealed its fate.
And where once stood the old front door
now just a cracked and crumbled floor.
Then, as I turned and faced the chimney tall,
familiar voices resonated once more.
Though perceived, still filled with laughter
and childlike questions of timeless matter
from a once-close family about the hearth
brought a blissful end to life’s daily chapter.
I stood silently, my senses sublimely allured,
while present time was much obscured;
my melancholic thoughts embraced
those voices from the hearth I heard.
Then, all illusions gone, the chimney tall
seemed out of place without a wall,
without a family ‘round it girthed,
a silent sentinel that should never fall.
I turned and walked, my thoughts unspoken,
and knew well now the chains were broken;
but though the chimney, which stood unscathed,
meant nothing more than memory’s token.
John Henry Gardner
© 2017 – All rights reserved
Categories:
tornadic, allusion, family, house, image,
Form:
Narrative
I opened every window
to see starlight flow--
and it danced through every room
casting shadows on the door.
Moon dust glistened
in a tornadic swirl...
in their pink tutu our
girls would twirl.
This moment in time,
it just feels so right.
Let's keep the windows open
until tomorrow night!
Categories:
tornadic, autumn, dance, daughter, future,
Form:
Rhyme
Terrible tornados toppled trees tearing trenches through the terrain,
“Took my tonsils,” told Timmy Thompson, “like taking a tongue twister train.”
Categories:
tornadic, funny,
Form:
Alliteration
Fierce and destructive
Not as pleasant as one think
The terror of the clouds.
Categories:
tornadic, nature
Form:
Haiku
I watched in awe as he sailed them aloft.
When they crash landed, I never scoffed
nor did I laugh when they hit the ceilings
for that would've hurt the pilot's feelings.
Stacks of paper were a staple at our home.
Not far from my brother's side did I roam.
Just two years older, but I worshipped him
Sometimes a plane's body, he'd let me trim.
How patient he was to teach me things
about throwing planes and adjusting wings.
So many hours I spent watching him fold,
and telling me, "I'll do this when I'm old."
He gave in when I asked if I could color one,
he rolled his eyes but when it was done
he let me do another, and when I chose pink
he made a silly face, then gave me a wink.
Those childhood games in my memory remains
though I was awful at launching paper planes.
Not for very long were they gracefully air born,
but brother never complained, nor did he scorn.
He told me so often, "It's in the flick of your wrist."
Mine did nose dives, spinning with a tornadic twist.
I tried to relaunch the bent ones to save on paper,
but couldn't master the art of folding the right taper.
I'd ask, "Where are you flying your plane today?"
He would always say, "Somewhere very far away."
I wonder if paper airplanes are still being made.
May the joy of making this simple toy never fade.
August 27, 2022
Paper Airplanes Contest
Sponsored by Jim Lawless
Categories:
tornadic, childhood, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
i've always believed that love lost is unpleasant,
painful as little as a lachrymal biopsy,
and as much as an emotional disembowelment
or lobotomy of the heart.
i am told that a love who walks out or finds love,
initiates a season of mourning and pain.
tears.
fears.
loneliness.
isolation.
abandonment.
uncertainty.
depression.
forsaken.
unlovely.
unwanted.
betrayed.
damn.
but, what if, just what if love lost is wisdom gained?
what if abandonment was the necessary path to faith?
or uncertainty the road to confidence?
should i have regrets about the past?
should i doubt that all things are predestined?
and should i lament providence through pain?
all for a purpose,
i have no regrets.
if i must suffer betrayal, loneliness, and love lost
to vividly and fully taste the rich and textured beauty of life,
and if i must endure betrayed affection,
in order to understand having it,
then may i lose love, time and again;
i choose to frolic and freely swim in the tides of depletion,
i submit to its tornadic and hurricanic winds;
and i yield to its tsunamic waves.
letting go of loss.
the winds carry its despair.
the waves swallow its torment.
to wash and rain cupid upon fertile hearts.
love lost is inoculation for my soul,
it bleeds,
it wounds,
it swells.
but averts phlegmatic infections and rigor mortis de la coeur.
so love lost becomes gain,
and gain loves again.
Categories:
tornadic, emotions, faith, feelings, loss,
Form:
Free verse
There is no understanding love,
It comes where least expected,
desire alone does not create it,
only some unknown,
mesmerizing inner feeling
raises the heart
and embraces the soul.
It comes,
like drums of thunder,
blinds of lightning,
waves of tornadic winds
and it grows
upon reciprocation.
Love is quiet
and makes its way
with simplicity and openness
with honesty and sincerity
with dreams and hopes
waiting to be fulfilled.
Love knows no bounds
and grows with tender care and attention,
a garden for and of the heart,
a cascading waterfall of emotion,
a long awaited revealation,
for two to embrace and share.
Categories:
tornadic, love,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Most assuredly, for America,
These are not the best of times,
nor are these the worst of times.
Times have been worst and there is no
promise of better days ahead. History for good
or bad is already set in stone, but what lies ahead
can be much affected and influenced by how we
respond in the present. America's currently stormy
political climate evokes anguish, tears, and pain.
In all of my observing years, I have not witnessed a more
divisive time exemplified in all three government areas.
It appears that the executive, legislative, and judiciary
arenas of government are suffering gravely.
I pray that the present weather turbulence in our country
does not signal a similar tornadic crisis in our political future.
In light of our present status, I pray not for blessings because
we presently are bathing in abundance, but my prayer is that
God will send us a deluge of His bountiful mercies.
060124PS
Categories:
tornadic, prayer,
Form:
Free verse
When I say I Love You look at Me
Use the eyes of our Father stay looking at me
When I listen to you speak to me I hear whispers song
When I pray for you things that are wrong
Makes my heart cohesive makes the softness in me strong
~
O' if I was a butterfly I would light unto your heart
If I was such a bird I would whisper in your ear like a meadowlark
Like a robin so I would flutter in the air light on your shoulder praise the Lord
~
When I say I love you strength through through a wailing storm
Cataclysmic denials heels be upon the norm
I am not afraid of the tornadic dismay
God has brought you through a storm
~
And may I invest in my thought process
May I be allowed to cherish and care for you
May I be allowed to endeavor you
~
For who you are for whose you are you are
For God the heavens and Angels know you are
The spirit within the vessel I adore
My heart softness is strong loves beating filled with butterflies swarm
~
Meadowlark praising God whispering in your ear
Passage of time yet fleeting passage of time yet pleading
I love you through a waving storm
I love you because you've been here before mine heart racing beating
~
Winds and storms you're heaven birth born
I love you because you've been here before
Energy from our Father's mouth He brought you forth (purposed)
I love you because you've been here before
~
Before I knew I knew before then, present future and now
I love you because you've been here before
5/16/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2023
Categories:
tornadic, beautiful, blessing,
Form:
Rhyme
Even in the darkest storm we have the promise of sunshine,
We keep our noses to the stone we need to grind.
We keep pushing on,
Pushing past the urge to run.
There is always the sunshine to give us hope,
Even when we feel the noose get tight this seems to loosen the rope.
We let the darkness invade if even for just a second in time,
And looses our grip on the sublime.
We let the darkness penetrate our beautiful souls,
Letting the devil distract from our Holy goals.
Then the dawn of Faith comes shining through,
A bright lighthouse put there just for you.
The darkness tries to creep in again,
Stirring up a tornadic activity and hurricane strength wind.
We must remember there is always a dawn,
That no matter how dark the storm the sunshine is much brighter after it's gone.
We must cling to this hope and knowledge,
We must remember every tree loses its leaves to gain new foliage.
We must understand that if we ask God to us anew,
That changes will occur to test your Faith is true.
So if you are going through a season of turmoil and storms,
'Tis just a season and nothing more.
The season will change, the dawn will soon appear,
So have no fear.
Have hope in the sunshine,
For you are not permanently blind.
You are His child...
And you are His sunshine.
Categories:
tornadic, encouraging, hope, motivation, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
I will never forget the man I fell in love with,
a man who once felt whole, who now bellows
through broken nights of blood-stained desert,
who sees ashen faces frozen in sand squalls
and calls out for brothers and sisters encaged
behind barb-wire fences. I listen for his silence
to speak, for bombs to detonate, for bullets
ablaze in his burnt memories. How can I keep
vigil every night while he wrestles sleep?
Love is a tender hand to wipe the sweat
from his brow, a voice to quiet ghosts,
but love falls again and again. I wake
entrenched in him, his Irish rye taste,
muscles clenched, surface entangled
in foreign lands and the earthy pines
of home. I fear my own needs, confused
by boulders piled higher, arms reached out,
his bare back turned away – I push
and pull, pinned to him, tormented
by his pain, his hardened shell in
tornadic dreams. When his beautiful
mind slips into terror and disappears
in black, even spring no longer holds
tomorrow’s birth. Even the gardener,
distressed, retreats in snowdrifts of moonless
night. Seasons come and go, the petals wilt,
the leaves dry, and the skies become
unsettled by violent storms.
Puddled in sweat again, his eyes weep without words.
He is noise, a restless drum pounding in my ears.
Blue veins bleed coagulated tears, and I, with heavy
red lids, watch hecklers taunt. Faceless
widows circle around demonic flames, sparks
dance in their cool clearing. I smell their root,
like licorice, moist and dark
when he slips again. Then, comes morning.
He lifts mountains to sky, and I forget the night.
He colors my silent soul in sapphire. With a trace
of one finger, I sigh, new like a hopeful dawn.
Darkness forgotten, I tumble soft through
lavender clouds in bloom and ladles deep
in his warm, starry-eyed wake. I lay
beside every nuance of his camouflaged rhythms –
his march, stomp, glide, his lowered stance
accepted in strength and weakness. Another
bloody night beats on stone, and I try again
to keep vigil as he succumbs to yesterday’s battlefield.
Categories:
tornadic, love, memory, night, war,
Form:
Free verse
I wore these shoes before
And as I walk across floor
The rushing winds shakes the door
As winter colds blows it's snow
Tornadic realms comes and buffers
Throwing star like frozen ice toppings
Covering the entire population
Now the time to come shut the doors and windows
I walk in the mist of the snow storm
No one knows my whereabouts
I am lost they too are blinded by the storm
Tornadic realms comes and buffers
Entrapped by the bitterness we suffer
And as I walk across floor
I wore these shoes before
Walking, stumbling, sliding trekking through the snow
03/6/18
©2018
For Contest: MARCH 18 PREMIERE CONTEST,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UP TO A MAX OF 20 lines
SPONSORED BY: Brian Strand
Categories:
tornadic, allegory, snow, weather,
Form:
Rhyme