Long Cloudburst Poems
Long Cloudburst Poems. Below are the most popular long Cloudburst by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cloudburst poems by poem length and keyword.
With minds like crystal prisms, they shatter light into every spectrum of possibility, foreseeing storms before the first cloud, hearts bruised by premonitions whispered on the wind. Yet, they dance in the rain, a silent symphony of knowing played on a smile, for theirs is the terrible gift of seeing the tapestry of fate woven a thread at a time, even as it pricks their fingers.? Huzefa Nalkheda wala
Hiking up the mountain, in pairs
You and I, just two more
Who settle the moments with hope,
For the tenderness that comes to life
Inside those who can feel
Feel, like you and I…
Laughter, giggling, ambling
Wandering over stones, dark pebbles,
Gravel roads, meant for those,
Who can see beyond the forest’s singing,
Into the poetry, the faith, the need
For silence that assures and agrees,
Feeling just like you and me…
Words fall between the friends,
Moist in the air – like the slow, soft breeze,
Words in rhythms, tones of light,
Feelings, blessing away the past, suspended,
In the hues so bright,
You and I, feeling so alive!
When the rain begins to melt the sugar sweet
Salty skin, trembling, beginning to believe,
We might make our way to our intention…
Only we feel the showers, melting the hours,
Blessings in liquid, spilling over the naked trees,
Spinning stories of lonely, breathing
Light as the shadows deepen, pouring over the soul,
Embracing the moments, assaulting each of us,
Pouring out a cleansing afternoon cloudburst,
Like music, she soothes and comforts…
And, as the pairs of our friends race toward shelter,
I catch my words in the back of my mind,
Not telling you – yet, somehow you can feel my message
In the heart…
As we move slowly beneath the downpour,
Securing our last place in the refuge of our vehicle,
Where the rain falls in sheets on the glass,
Refusing to listen to our wiper’s urgent swabbing,
Almost as immediately as the hand wipes the tear,
Who appears…
When you and I realize, at last, our dream has passed,
And, we’re merely walking among the shadows of the past,
Where floods of memories, like that downpour on the trail,
Sends us back to that place we always meant to forget.
Inside my chest – is that satisfaction or regret?
Never, in a downpour yet, have there been tears so alive,
As this homesick moment has shuddered and died!
You pop my heart so heavily to the rhythm of
“like a prayer”from Madonna.
You flare the stars at night
gleaming towards darkside.
You flame the solar sphere; before you,
I became ichor.
You wade your way into heaven;
you're a goddess.
Night with your scarlet lips,
is untamed.
A fluid from your cup is juicy
for it sends me
to cloud nine
dreaming of us in a canvass of artwork
made by rosy poetry
in a setting of dramatic show:
I, Suleiman
You, Ada
playing in Atlantics.
I come with a song,
make from it a dulcet medley
reciting how I found mathematics
at the doorstep to your heart;
my discovery of indices
sorting pleasures beneath your apartment
In a dark red light,
flaky as a clinker.
Woman, you must have thought the instruments
to twang at night
into something that crawls to the paw of the gale
knifing my ears.
call it an act of love
because at your feet
music ends and kick off.
My discovery of you is a quicklime
melding sacred love with holy kisses
over burnt and baked lies
without a draft of smoke
forming cloudburst of rue.
Allow me from your city stare
at roses crashing beneath your waist
affection that goest before your thighs
hallowed by thy bosom
into the gates of confession.
Allow me to snog thee gently
feeding on thy hipped blonde
to your gratification
lounging my spearhead along your riverside
to stir, montarily, moaning
like the touch of flowers.
Tonight woman,
I bring you a song.
Like the sun, crawling to buzz the horizon
I reveal to you the lips of a man
wearing the colour of red for the
eyes.
Do not go up
swinging between the stars
for I without you is tradegies of baked pictures.
Excel Chinagorom Michael
i’m cooking these words on the stove,
hoping they won’t burn—
but they burst into flames,
fierce with laser focus,
only to be choked on
when spoon-fed,
and regurgitated
when swallowed.
served like fast food—
empty calories filling the gaps
meant to comfort,
to reorder.
part of the standard American diet.
words on a bun,
piled high with all the fixings,
a digested impact crater,
in the pit of our gut.
politicians try them on
like shoes—
until they fit,
but seldom do.
words written
to fall off the paper’s edge,
into the echo chamber
of insincerity.
instead, they carve them into stone—
only to shatter
when dropped.
formulated words
to soothe,
to numb pain.
thoughts folded into paper prayers,
thrown skyward.
officials toss them high,
a solemn beacon of fortitude.
but the touch of a dead child
shoots them as skeet.
bullets spoken as words,
spat out with ease,
surrender to normalcy—
just another
American day.
---
**2**
an errant boy,
garden hose in hand,
sprays the clouds full
as mourners careen
to pay respects
to his family.
words,
drenched in sorrow,
are washed away
by the cloudburst.
the open umbrellas
amplify the drops
into a steady drum beat,
as they hit, roll,
and vanish.
---
**3**
Ashai cradles
a red plastic ball,
her palms hoping
to find its role.
meant to roll,
to wander,
to tumble,
perhaps even fly
through the air in play—
but it’s too hard to bounce,
too light to throw.
small worries,
circle before settling,
inside her pretend world.
---
**4**
the chevron-blue lake
draws an outline
along the water’s edge,
a loneliness floats
on its water mattress,
bobbing the loons
into calling for solitude
before it reaches us all.
shivering leaves rustle
signalling the night breeze
whispering warnings
of another cloud spill
by the garden hose.
she listened to his whisper
he was so chipper
she listened to his whisper
their desires finally met
she only wanted to dip her feet wet
it was just so right
for that first night
just only her feet
getting royaly treated
he wasn't going anywhere
so he had all the time to spare
... this was love
two graying doves
the next time
it was a different rhyme
this time the water touched her knees
she began to panic and freeze
it was nothing to be alarmed
again he said, no foul no harm
he gave her ample space
free to be on her own terms, and pace
the next time
it was a totally different rhyme
water inched higher past her thighs
she began to scream and capsize
her eyes began to roll
as the water took it's toll
his romantic aroma
sent her off into a coma
it was nothing to be alarmed
again he said, no foul no harm
he let her graze
to her own leisure
he lead his deer
without any fear
as the water inched passed her naval
his horses came out of their stable
wild eyed and looking for oats
nudging it's way to her moat
it was nothing to be alarmed
again he said, no foul no harm
this time she let him graze
to his own leisure
then as his ... horses began to explore
she let out a loud roar
her less traveled pasture
so fully enraptured
feeling his mind boggling heat
her heart skipping a thousand beats
their minds singing a song
as both horse backed along
his reins on her train
her train on his mane
steadily on verse
to both's thundering cloudburst
the tale of dipping her feet
once so sweet
taking small steps
to higher water depths
her feet
lit the street
lit the spark in their day
to more replay
lit their candle
for all that love can handle
for in their engraved hearts
to death do they part
connie pachecho
1/2/17
Where I come from, Spring is so elusive; Snow, fog, drizzle persist for frequent weeks. So, when it comes, it boosts the will to live! Forget the cold temps, mild temps do we seek! Spring often arrives in June; it’s no joke. People who visit here don’t believe it. Here, we keep good humor; we’re sturdy folk: “Is it nice outside? Hell no! It’s not fit!” Whether it’s drizzle or thundershower, cloudburst, deluge, freezing fog or sprinkle, the wetness might persist countless hours; but we keep perspective; eyes still twinkle.
Such priviledge to live here; we’re lucky. The storm outside? Never mind. It’s ducky!
Here I am in this sweltering heat
Trying to shake the dust off my feet
And the evening gets longer and
Night falls rapidly upon my shoulder
I look beyond the horizon to see
If you were standing there
But the mountain stood still
While the blazing heat climb
Slowly up the hill, I saw a shadow
Standing there with a bone arrow and a spear
And the radiant light from the sun
Penetrate it from above and sharpen its tip
You were getting ready for battle
And surveying the land with an old
Rusty weapon and truck filled with gasoline
Nothing was moving except your eyes
Circling the landscape and the birds
Standing quietly on the branches as if
They were expecting a visitor
And the heat continues to wet my body
And drain my kinetic energy
Something was about to happen
but I could not tell from where
I kept looking at you standing on the mountain
And all of a sudden the wind began to blow
and the rain cloudburst and cool down the earth
Where do I go when there is no show
Where do I go when the moon is still
Where do I go when I want to climb on top of the hill
And when the weather is fine
must I stay here and wander in despair?
I travel through the windows of my mind
Searching for one solid line that everyone could sing
But the voice could not blend
because every one had a different rhythm
I had to searched hard and long to get
You off the mountain but you seem
To like it there so destiny will
Build a house for you up there
You will have everything you need
And you will enjoy the fresh air
and the cool breeze
Climb to the top of the mountain
and hear the good tidings
It is where the mountain touch the sky
And where the rainbows lie
They are coming in droves from the other side
So climb to the top of the hill and say the last goodbye
The message is deep and someone is waiting for thee.
Climb to the top of the mountain and rescue me.
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written
flying and crawling, laughing and bawling,
winning and losing, breathing and dying ~
as a river current meandering where I choose to go
moonlight on a cold dark night, casting a soft glow
a flower bud patiently waiting to rise above the snow
wind whispering the names of loved ones where I flow
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written ~
the pursed lips waiting to be kissed and to passion awoken
baleful eyes that cry when insensitive words are spoken
the fragile heart that is valued as more than just a token
a woman abused, but whose spirit has not been broken
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written ~
the rendered smile that radiantly appears, unrehearsed
a hand gently tending someone who needs to be nursed
a warm ray of sunlight beaming, after a sudden cloudburst
the words, "I love you," ardently said without being coerced
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written ~
the foot avoiding a delicate flower in the crack of a sidewalk
a silent prayer when my voice was not strong enough to talk
the desperate fish trying to escape from the talons of a hawk
a door waiting to open when opportunity comes to knock
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written ~
as hope that sometimes flounders about, but is never lost
with faith in God, stronger than the erudite, Goethe's Faust
in love that is freely given, no matter what price the cost
as memories time will never destroy in an attempt to accost
I see myself in lines of poetry I've written ~
blue skies turning gray when billowing storm clouds arrive
a sweet memory nearly forgotten as it's put in an archive
the last withered leaf clinging to its tree, struggling to survive
a deep breath taken, hoping it's not the last to keep me alive
EASTER SUNRISE
Outside, perfect Sunrise
Service. The air’s so fresh.
Pastel dresses, pretty ties.
Resurrection from the creche.
Birth and rebirth celebrated.
Jesus - our Dayspring on High.
As sunrise songs begin, elated,
Oh how blessed with warming-eye.
The Son! The Son! Salvation
Hallelujahs in the blue and red hills -
Up goes the praise of creation.
Though a miniature group, it thrills
With anticipation of eternity nigh -
Gathered with the communion of saints.
Early risers savor the reverberating sigh,
Remembering our Savior - with no restraints.
We smile, we nod at one another
Knowing each person rose to the occasion.
Oh how much love, one for another,
In this small concreted space - a holy invasion.
Can you see the angel armies all about -
In power, quietness, expectation?
The one who rolled the tomb’s stone with a shout
Surely sees glory after glory without cessation.
We remember the snow white lamb of Bethlehem;
The victorious, merciful and just lion;
The great I Am;
The One who awakens Zion.
The air, so fresh, and we’re squeaky clean
Not because of water and soap
But because we accepted and lean
On Jesus Christ our Living Hope.
Dressed in pretty attire, not to be seen,
But to honor and applaud The Great -
The death and resurrection was the scene,
For the return of the King of kings, we cannot wait.
Bruised bones resolved, inhale - the inspire.
The second Adam resurrected on Sunday.
Laud, sing - with Holy Spirit fire.
Join in this spectacular prayer ballet
And the cloudburst of the sunrise choir.
Bursting with pink, tangerine and baby blue -
The horizon and the faithful spire;
The disclosure of God breaks through.
3/22/2023
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
A raging sun raised over the sky so bright, kindled upon
The earth desired for thirst, the first ray hold upon,
By the crops reaped over the farm so baked -
Steamed by the nature so distressed,
The flared breeze glowed over the life withheld.
A muted zephyr pass by the morn, betide upon
The daylight so hoped-for, the first drop gushed upon,
By the wind so aroused over the fight against blaze -
Danced by the mizzle so greeted
The sensation of expressions for the moment winded so delighted.
Moistened by the drops fell upon so pleased, retrieve upon
The sowing over the sloughy farm, the last ray hold upon,
By the dismal days of cloudburst -
Streamed over by the ken so roaring,
The time of the year met with the season of showering.
Abased sun faded by the sky so dark, mislaid upon
The sprinkle dripped for reseeding, the first ray hold upon,
By the awning fitted for shelter over the sidewalk –
Drenched by the approach so merciful,
The mournful reek washed over the shore so disgraceful.
An abstract world by the city so ludic, played upon
The time seemed lively, the first dive swam upon,
By the pleasure of life -
Versed by the pleasance so alive,
The sweet flow of liveliness hoped to survive.
Lasted numb behind the clouds the sun once peeped by the drizzle, showed upon
The rays gently breaking up the sky by the colours differentiated, hold upon
By the welcoming of feathered white clouds –
Eased by the greenery so eying
The time of the year met with the season of fall-flowering.
---------------------------------x---------------------------------
Beside another, recent lain
Dug before the morning rain
Laid in rows midst flowers and grass
Where hand-carved marble speaks of past
Blackbird seeking worm or grain
Eyes the earthen mound again
Whence abundant morsal found
In spoil fresh dug from sacred ground
Brief cessation of the showers
Sunshine gifts it's warming powers
Somber, dressed in wispy shroud
Whispered calls to every cloud
Dampened grass wears tinsel glister
For mother, father, brother, sister
Whose Mourners silent walk the drive
Parting as the cars arrive
Handshakes, kisses, reminisces
Comfort sons and little misses
Gather, solumn ’side the grave
Adults tearful, children brave
Casket edging from its hearse
Nature opts to show its worst
Heavens open, pours torrential
Mourners stoic, reverential
For Gran and Gramps met in the war
Chance encounter Indian shore
Oft to tell despite the warm
Danced till night beneath a storm
Then beneath a leaning palm
Neither heeding risk of harm
She succumbed to young man's wishes
Shared the first of many kisses
Lowered now to Grandpa's side
Grief outshone by family pride
As Grandma grasps the binding tie
Of he in whom she feared no lie
One love, his wife, his children's mother
Never danced with any other
Ever gallant went before
To guide her hand to heaven's door
And like that storm of Asia past
Sun tames cloudburst near as fast
Wispy mists of dampness warmed
Dance ethereal, barely formed
Vapours of the afterlife
Moonlit glimpses, man and wife
Romance colours all our thoughts
Of Gran and Gramp's eternal waltz