Long Lightning Poems
Long Lightning Poems. Below are the most popular long Lightning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lightning poems by poem length and keyword.
I am running to whirl and twirl
My wholeness and goodness
Flat out ready
To be replenished,
Refreshed,
Reborn in God's tears.
The lightning is out there,
crashing with gusto,
and it makes me smile as I arrive
in my birthday suit, ready to be cleansed
by the angels who will not let anything bad happen.
They always have my back,.
I have on clothes too, a light dress,
no panties. Because this is a freedom dance,
an honour tribute to the goodness and wholeness
not only of myself, but of God's love for the little girl
still inside, the one who is thrilled to run flat out into
the rain to whirl and twirl,
To feel the replenishing refreshing drops.
Baptised again and again
Laughing her goodness
Living her wholeness
Loving the rain.
*Dedicated to Poet Demetrios Trifiatis. ( I was led to write this after reading a comment he made on one of my poems)
I had not seen his poem before writing this. Bless him at this time of loss.
There is no reason for such a tragedy to strike
Like a lightning bolt hitting one person in a crowd
The pain, the grief, overcoming one’s inner soul
Acting like a tsunami or then shock of standing still
Numb on an empty shoreline, too much to process
One is hard enough, but why on earth so many?
There’s only one answer that always remains
Turning to the constant everlasting strength in faith
To keep moving forward, believing what is best is ahead
Faith in knowing there will be a spectacular reunion
Living beyond a tragedy, that later will only seem to be
- Like a grain of sand -
Heidi Sands
4/1/21
NOT For contest, wrote this on the beach today and realised I'd wrote over the 20 line max, thought I'd post it anyway.
What follows reads like a tall fishy tale
How I nearly died in a force ten gale
I had hired a boat with my family
For a blissful ten days out on the sea.
All was going well and then came a storm
For this time of year it wasn't the norm
Told the kids to get inside; also my wife
What follows is true, I swear on my life.
A lightning bolt hit the side of the boat
I prayed to God that we would stay afloat
Disaster had struck and the electrics blew
And to get safely home I hadn't a clue .
Now all the family were getting frantic
We were adrift and I tried not to panic
I said "We'll be missed help will come along"
Then I could hear it, a beautiful song.
Looked down into the water and to my surprise
Mermaids swimming I couldn't believe my eyes
Seven beautiful girls all with long hair
I was in shock; all I could do was stare.
One pointed to the side at a coiled rope
Was this even real and was this false hope
Then she motioned again and said to throw
They all grabbed a piece and began to tow.
I must have dozed off and the next I knew
We were being helped by the harbour crew
One said "No power, you came to the docks
And how the hell did you avoid the rocks"?.
My family had slept through it all too
The sea was calm now and the sky was blue
Everyone called me hero of the day
Couldn't find words didn't know what to say .
I held back telling them the true story
It wasn't me that should get the glory
I thought of the rope and how we were towed
On boats side it was coiled and neatly stowed.
How can I forget, I owe them my life
Also my two kids and of course my wife
Mermaids are real I hope you believe me
I saw them that day swimming in the sea.
Written 23rd September 2019.
Until a single star is born,
How many countless eons it must have suffered—
No one truly knows.
And once that star is formed,
Until its starlight finally reaches this earth,
How many countless ages have brushed past you—
No one truly knows.
However,
You, who are reading this very line, are that star.
Long before this universe was even born,
Enveloped in hundreds of millions of years of darkness,
An unknown, silent existence
Spent countless ages alone—
Perhaps shedding endless tears—
In some star amid thunder, lightning, and gloom,
Just to create the 'you' of this present moment.
Even I cannot fathom how long that eternity was.
But that is precisely who you are.
You have overcome all these tribulations,
And your sacred life
Began on December 6th, 2023.
Therefore, your life in this present moment
Is so deeply
Beautiful, holy, and blessed.
Furthermore, by the laws of nature that even God cannot defy,
And by your own supernatural power,
You were brought forth upon this earth.
Thus, as long as you exist, those stars, the moon,
And this beautiful earth exist solely because of you.
And if, after your long journey,
You must leave someone behind in your heart and depart,
And by your own holy free will,
When it is time to go to that beautiful kingdom of heavenly blessings,
When it is time to ascend to that beautiful land of the stairway to heaven—
Perhaps, because of your sacred, beautiful picnic,
All creation and the universe might instantly vanish into nothingness.
Even the very soul of me, who writes this poem,
Might disappear into the wind in a single flash,
All because of a single step you take.
Therefore, your birthday is magnificent.
Though on the day of your birth,
I cannot offer you a tangible gift to hold dear,
At this very moment,
For you, who are reading these words,
I shall become your eternal light of love,
And wish you the happiest of birthdays.
Erect stands the totem poles carved from Western Red Cedar trees
Telling tales of gods and warriors buried by the river as it flows to the seas
Marking the boundaries of these sacred grounds where our native brethren once roamed
For many years and centuries before we drove them from their homes
The graves bear no markings; the Great Spirit knows where each warrior can be found
As he comes to collect each one of them and escort him to a happier hunting ground
One of the warriors laid to rest there was known on earth by the name of Storm Cloud
And he visits the burial grounds often accompanied by lightning and thunder roaring loud
Map makers call this place Campbell River on Vancouver Island in Canada
The natives who lived and then died here just called it the home that they did love
And in the carvings on the large tree trunks that their fellow man did fell
The stories of their life here, the figures and features so vividly tell
by Joe Flach, written and posted on August 11, 2011
Rain was pouring down
The road was slick and wet
Tears rolling down her cheek
Signaled the fight wasn’t over yet
The radio was off
Lightning flashed in the midnight sky
Blinding water splashed on the windshield
From an eighteen wheeler passing by
I dared not say a word
My explanations just made it worse
Sticking foot inside his mouth
Is an awful married man’s curse
I looked at her for a second
Taking my eyes off of the road
I saw the headlights in front of us
Just before the darkness did enfold
I am afraid to open my eyes
Not sure how much time has passed
Memories start to fade
Like a first breath I take a gasp
Lights are bright around me
I cry and wail with all my might
I am laid in the arms of my mother
Beginning a brand new life
Man has mused over life’s origin for ages.
The thoughts and treatises of the sages,
filling tall tomes tallying thousands of pages,
tell of evolution in stages over millions of ages.
Life, some say was sparked by lightning arcs.
Amino acids were formed by the electric sparks.
These amino acids served as life’s building blocks
something like a mysterious genetic black box.
Or, maybe, the first molecules of life met on clay,
forming a pattern that looked like a lei.
Over time, they trapped other molecules like prey
and organized them in a complicated genetic way.
Some surmise that life began at deep-sea vents,
formed where the continental shelf rents,
allowing hot fluids from the earth’s core to escape
creating an environment where life can take shape.
Enough of the silly, spurious, scientific speculation.
Is it incomprehensible that life began with God’s creation?
Of all the speculations, it is the only logical explanation.
Our belief about life’s origin has profound implications.
The Bible in Genesis declares that God created life.
The crowning act of creation was Adam and his wife.
Whether fishes, birds, animals, bees, and trees,
the sacred book tells us God created all of these.
Because God created us in His image, we have intrinsic worth.
Apart from this reality, humans are no more than dirt.
If we were not created by God for a purpose,
then our life here on earth is an existential circus.
Written: November 14, 2023 For Robert James Liguori
_____________________________________
Sitting in my comfy chair with my injured knees
Insouciant spent time alone with my disease.
In which my companion bade me farewell.
To hoard a spot for me in her paradise dwell.
Dreams I had as a child flooded my mind.
Eat, study, and play without anguish or grind.
Being older never induced a query.
Neither did I pursue my parents' theory.
My languor body is ripe and showing its age.
It subsists, yet I witness a lassitude page.
In a mirror, I view a mellifluous, sketchy shape.
Upon the eyes of a child, struggle to escape.
I used to be a ring, all brilliant and smooth.
I slid through the night's lightning and sleuth.
Casting jovial rays in a haphazard course
While vestigial bellows heralded each source.
In this woebegone life, age, and frailty show.
As lichen cypress, we sway, graying, and slow.
We admit amorphous days to be a ripe apple.
Progeria grip pushes youth to grapple.
once robust and blooming stems of youth.
We aquiver to mellow, writhe, and cough.
Our eyes bore witness to the events of life.
The exquisite scene is a symphony of strife.
A sunken summer reveals a winter of fading light.
And the gossamers will be wilting before sight.
And the blithely petals will shortly wither away.
In a broken bucket, once balmy blooms display.
When I was born, I believed myself free,
But Rahu came—
A warden of illusions, a prisoner-wider,
Keeper of debts written in the ink of forgotten lives.
He spoke without mercy,
“You will occupy cell number 8.
Do not ask what crime you committed—
Karma remembers what you pretend to forget.”
My mother wept, begging for reprieve,
But the verdict had been sealed
Long before her tears could touch the earth.
The soul contract was signed,
A covenant in shadows,
And Rahu laughed like a sovereign king
Who feeds on the weakness of men.
“Through pain I will sculpt you.
Through exile I will teach you.
Your chains are your wisdom,
Your darkness—your sight.”
And so I was sentenced.
On the 29th of December, 1991,
The gavel of the cosmos fell.
In this labyrinth of fate I met Mercury,
A sly companion with wings on his feet.
He said, “I am only a messenger,
Bound by Rahu’s decree.
Yet I shall give you words,
Quick as lightning, sharp as daggers.
Through me, you will cut the silence of the world.”
Mercury gave hope,
But hope that burns, not soothes.
He promised not freedom, but speed—
Not peace, but voice.
Thus I became both prisoner and prophet,
Chained in Rahu’s domain,
Yet armed with Mercury’s fire.
And if you hear my poetry,
If my words reach you faster than thought,
Know this—
It is the echo of my chains striking stone,
It is the voice of a prisoner who writes his way out,
Though the cell door never opens.
There are those who will not hear the siren's wail,
But will know the wheat has turned pale.
Winds will sweep up from the south and the west,
His chorus of trees swaying bravely are Blessed.
Shields aside, faces lit in harmony,
Destiny, homogeny, all God's Children once more free.
Lightning, earthquakes, tsunami seas,
Herald His Coming while evil flees.
Shooting Stars, like hail from above,
Will cleanse us from sin on Wings of the Dove.
And balance in nature will sweep o'er the land
With God in His Glory
Grasp all in His Hand
12/12/21