Disaster Birthday Poems | Examples
These Disaster Birthday poems are examples of Birthday poems about Disaster. These are the best examples of Birthday Disaster poems written by international poets.
B-oat is set by the Almighty,
O-ut there in the blue ocean;
N-o reason to be afraid,
G-od gives His guiding hand.
D-eluge is set by the Almighty,
E-ven drought neath the skyway;
L-et God's arms protect you,
O-n January sixth
S-aturday.
R-ain is set by the Almighty,
E-ven earthquake so destructive;
Y-ou must totally trust in God,
E-ach disaster isn't
S-elective.
E-verything is for the good,
D-ivine truth will set you free;
O-pen your life to long travel,
R-ace is set by the
A-lmighty.
J-ust ride not for a fall,
E-arly August second;
A-void ending in a disaster,
N-ature's wrath you must reckon.
E-vade riding for a fall,
T-aking no great risk;
H-uman is weak and frail, so let your move be brisk.
R-ide not for a fall,
A-im not to walk the harm's way;
P-erilous events in life
A-re making someone gray.
D-on't go to danger zone, where there's quarrel or brawl;
A-lways be on guard, ride not for a fall.
R-ays of the sun will shine,
A-fter the night passes by;
Q-uit not when the rain falls
U-nderneath the dark sky.
E-leventh November morn breaks after the twilight;
L-et the rays of the sun shine to set everything aright.
A-ll you have to do is hope,
C-ry not during disaster;
A-llow your heart to glow,
B-raving the vilest weather.
A-s you sail the rugged sea,
D-on't let your boat sink;
O-vercome the big waves, later lane above is pink.
B-e brave in the darkness
O-r during the sad sunset;
L-et your life be strong,
I-nstead of fearing the fret.
M-idnight is about over, day will be dawning fine;
A-s you rise from slumber, rays of the sun will shine
M-ay you know no fear,
I-n braving the strongest storm;
A-llow not your mind to doubt God's embrace so warm.
N-ow you know no fear,
A-s you trust in the Almighty;
V-ictory is in sight,
A-fter disaster and tragedy.
R-efrain from backing down,
R-ugged weather will disappear;
O-n Saturday February tenth, you truly know no fear.
J-ust pick up the pieces,
H-ave to gather together;
O-n the seventh of January, after the life's vile weather.
P-ick up the pieces,
A-fter the emotional damage;
J-ust get back on your feet,
A-s you receive God's message.
R-estore a situation to normality, after a collapse or crisis;
A-fter a disaster or shock, just pick up the pieces.
R-emember that the Lord God
H-as cursed the wicked world;
E-arly Saturday September ninth,
A-round the ocean, the water whirled.
U-nfurled waves of the sea
M-ove with the violent wind;
A-n earthquake strikes once more,
Y-our questions never end.
A-fter the great disaster, another tragedy happens;
M-isfortune causes man a quite complicated sense.
J-ust think of the changing world,
A-s the sun shines in the sky,
I-t's not a simple situation, there's
M-ore to it than meets the
E-ye.
J-ust go for the prize,
O-n the thirteenth of December;
Y-our greatest goal lies ahead, failure is a disaster.
G-o for the prize,
R-each the heaven's gate;
A-ttain the promised salvation,
N-ever waver in your faith.
A-chieve the priceless reward,
D-on't ever close your eyes;
A-im at the glorious abode, go for the prize.
G-od is there to guide,
L-et Him show you the way;
E-arly seventh of June,
N-ew dawn will never be gray.
D-ivine God is there to rescue, in times of disaster;
A-mid storm and earthquake, no one can help but the Father.
Z-ones of danger and war
A-re turned into a peaceful place;
M-an's only greatest guide
O-ffers no time to waste.
R-eturn to Him right now, you can run but you can't hide;
A-ll things are for the good, God is there to guide.
This 90th birthday poem is for my Aunt Jean Bates – she was in fits of laughter when I recited it on the phone for her today. My Aunt and her brother (who is 99) both used to write poetry and many naughty limericks so I guess it is in my genes
A schoolboy whose surname is Bates
Got terribly teased by his mates
He is MISTER not Master –
(That would be a disaster)
His surname he now really hates!
True Story …
When I was on the phone my aunt told me of a coach trip she took with her husband and son – the tour leader was reading out the names of the passengers … Mr and Mrs Smith and Master Smith, Mr and Mrs Jones and Master Jones …. My aunt was mortified when they got to their surname and it was Mr and Mrs Bates and Master Bates – why couldn’t they call him Mister!
08-06-17
Round to the house they all went to play
Today it was special it was Jacques Birthday
The boys played in their room – where we couldn’t see
The adults sat down to drink some tea
All went well for quite a while
But Jacques rushed downstairs not wearing his smile
DISASTER!
We dashed upstairs to discover the issues
Sad eyes greeted us we needed some tissues
The football birthday cake had been taken to the room
To be brought downstairs later for us to consume
Now it lay on the floor – oh what a mess
Voices were hushed no one would confess
Then we all heard the most terrible roar
Ray had arrived – he saw the cake on the floor
His voice wasn’t hushed oh boy he could shout
BOYS GO TO THE GARDEN – JUST PLEASE GET OUT
The boys dashed off outside and continued to play
It didn’t ruin Jacques birthday
The cake was retrieved and patched with green icing
The party continued it was very exciting
Just a fond memory of their childhood days
Precious memories of one of Jacques Birthdays
Written on 4th January 2015
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jactor-Project/378173279030533?fref=nf
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It's your birthday, December twenty first
make a wish
let the candelabras burn an inch
something precious
in the morning, evening kiss
you've always longed for.
Pray beneath the mistletoe, adorned
grab your popcorn
the couch besides the window looks so grand
take a peek
with a smack of lips on buttery fingers, *prang!*
there goes the earthly orb.
Park your derriere mid-chew
enjoy
the riots, panicked, raving loons
peering out
with that last piece of popcorn in your mouth
hear those shouts
that the world is ending
breathe the fumes
the flames are sending
see the crowds of mental patients cry
the morning after
the
disaster sends the paranoia hangover *High!*
of a cityscape in shreds
sirens resonating with your bed
a good book to send yourself to dream,
it was your birthday today
and you got to listen to the lunatics scream.
The 9th of June is a "special" day.
You're probably wondering why?
It's Birthday number Fifty,
for a "special" PS guy!
His poetic talent is beyond reproach.
He a genius of rhythm and rhyme.
Whenever I read any poem that he writes,
I'm impressed and amazed, every time!
He exhibits a vast range of emotions.
So many, that I am in awe!
The ones that are really a riot,
involve his mother-in-law!
He can make you feel gloom and disaster.
He can make you feel happy and proud.
He can make you feel hope and compassion,
or cause you to just laugh out loud!
I wanted to write this memento
to show just how I felt
and wish a big Happy Birthday,
to my poetic friend, Larry Belt.
Now, this is what's gonna happen.
It'll be on the 9th day of June!
All you Soupers listen real hard,
at, or real close to noon!
I'm gonna shout, real loud, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
My friend, I sure hope you will hear it!
Since, I can't physically be there with you,
by God, I'll be there in spirit!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOOD BUDDY
Many happy returns
Our sire from heaven spoke and spat into oblivion.
His seeds cultivated eggs speedily mating in beds.
Abundant wives would sometimes spell disaster.
The lost children would forever search,
their sires beginnings that can never be reached!
Mother earth remains and seldom complains.
Till the diggers shoved lanes into her very veins.
Precious parts squandered in terrible plunders,
the young had developed their mothers sick habits!
Coughing and erupting in sores and destruction.
The more they took,the whores of kings and crooks!
Every infection had reactions for good or ill attractions!