Long Monsoon Poems
Long Monsoon Poems. Below are the most popular long Monsoon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Monsoon poems by poem length and keyword.
I arrived a moment too soon
The music had not began
drenched from a mild monsoon
Prepared to lend a hand
I chose red instead of blue
And red goes better with purple
So I traded my gray tennis shoes
Another link to connect my circle
Prior to my entrance
My heel entertained a crack
Though I felt like a princess
I changed my shoes to black
The relevance of my debacle
At first seemed non existent
As with the burning of my waffle
And the minor speeding ticket
So, soaking wet, I had made it
Just in time to run an errand
I should have stayed put
But at the time, I didn't care
I never made it back that day
These events play on repeat
If I had done something any other way
I might still be on my feet
Now I watch my body, lifeless
Dressed, head to toe, in blue
Though, not quite, my favorite
They chose my gray shoes
Azure blue skies weep in rent glacial torrents,
iridescent earth sun trap poised to garner sympathy,
dark red cloud’s indignant float might yet rumble,
toxic deluge drenches mudbank plot as toilers whine,
thunderstruck I gaze at wild indigo sea mist on brine-fleck shore
Edge of seat terra firma species orange alert mere bluster,
grim altitude apocalypse for amber moon orb,
rampant shower pockmark with visual scar as trenchant plague,
vapour trail from lachrymose horizon now a shrunken haze,
alarm bell’s doleful peal across an impact cratered expanse once sumptuous mint green
Stream of gurgling silken brook upon reciprocal bright cadence,
otherworldly pine from volatile nebulae’s damp swathe,
vapid biome acreage a gaunt reflection though surreal,
despite magenta stardust twinkle whose infant phase corralled
by wayward drizzle
Hemisphere by half redolent of sombre devastation,
yet exotic visual haunt is that vaunted shadow zone,
sweet maple leaf ether bound refuge from monsoon rife,
pot of gold opal strewn paradise escape hatch,
from lesion blight topsoil or open sore empyrean
Purple leaf and bell pepper cascade swirling o'er panic stricken globe,
perfume clad hillock under hawk-eye squint,
denizens idyllic foster atmospheric canny urban vault,
they hobble gingerly on salmon pink stone bridge en route to harried terrain rescue
To my dearest Lunah
When I fall into pits of darkest nights
You alone are my purest of lights
When everything rains down on me like a monsoon
I live for the warm embrace of my little moon
Brighter than every star in the sky
I long to sit and stare into your eyes
Follow you to the ends of the unknown
With you I'll never be alone
We'll run through fields of fluorescent flowers
Stay there and dine for hours and hours
Following the hem of your light pink dress
With you by my side I never feel stress
We'll warm each other up during long winter nights
As our love spins together and takes wonderful flight
While crystals of snow fall onto our tongues
Your emotions of envy will fill up my lungs
And in your worst struggles I'll be by your side
Giving you all that my soul can provide
A crutch when you're crippled, a brace when you fall
I'll be there for you the moment you call
So let me share with you all of your best moments
As time multiplies our feelings like exponents
Colors exploding from every laughter
Forever together for here and thereafter
You pull me towards you just like the tides
With you I can my secrets confide
A kiss upon lips and my breath is gone
As my heart beats to your lucid song
Sudden, as a bolt from the blue,
Came down a humming bird, tantalizing
Skimming down and darting up
As an ever revolving top
It reeled round and round
Before it alighted on a drooping flower;
That hung from a bending branch
In a corner of my front yard garden
It precariously clung on to it
Like a small pendent on a chain
A sight so cool, now so rare
That lighted up my dull spirits!
Once they showed themselves up
On almost every sunny day
Promptly after the monsoon rains
When the plants en mass in resplendent bloom
Oh! How I love this tiny bird
Not larger than a bumble bee
Dressed in a cloak of green and black
Flitting round on fluttering wings
It literally dances and pirouettes in the air
Before descending down closer to its target
Swirling, gliding n’ moving back and forth
As if unsure of what it should do
Finally with a terrific jerk and swiveling move
It hovers close to hanging blooms
Balancing itself sans any support
And draws out nectar with its long needle bill
When the zephyrs carry a sweet scent
It flits from flower to flower
And having enjoyed the ambrosial treat
It flies back, well satiated like a darting arrow
My eyes fail to capture its lightning move
As it goes whizzing through the lambent air
Quickly disappearing like a mote of soot
Losing itself in the vast expanse of the blue
Being less than an ounce of fat
So light, sleek and well streamlined
It travels faster than the speed of light.
In a fleeting dash, moving out of sight
Can any other bird rival it in agility?
Or vie with it in its simple grace?
How cute, this spirit of ‘disembodied joy’
This winged diminutive denizen of the sky!
,
Eradicated, exquisite, hypocritical, and divine
Given your own heart --- but not given your own mind
Slaving through this lifetime to just rush to the next
Disqualified, degraded, and generation-hexed
Unintelligent, psycho, and deranged
When you open your eyes --- your life has already changed
The flashes of your past speed by under the midnight sky
Stagnant, secluded, and your life on a constant "standby"
Running from the thoughts that erupt out of your brain
Until before you know it, you're dead and your body lies crumbled in vain
The life you were meant to lead has definitely gotten away from you
Rushing through your life --- set off without a clue
Shocked and sinister your body's in pieces
Your spirit dwindles off --- and your life simply ceases
Born with a name, a face, and a voice
Just someone else's solution --- isn't another's method of choice
Always fighting, always frontin', always running from your life
Tearing and shredding through your DNA --- life's composite knife
We all just co-exist under the heightens of this moon
Raging and bubbling and on the verge of starting a monsoon
The emotions you display, will manifest itself as a storm
After the destruction of the storms --- your life it's about to transform
Gathering a team --- preparing for the worse
Losing everything together --- nobody gets to reimburse
Learning the stuff in school, they want your kids to learn
To silence and quiet all of the bottled-up unconcern
The greed of the people of this country within
Forcing you to remember and relive the first, original sin
I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me what you need
For the negativity inside your veins has done nothing to you but mislead
The mission you surround yourself --- the "so-called" box from within
Like everything from the beginning was fake possessions --- fake heart & fake skin
You're a barbie in a world, transformed by boxes of rocks
Millions of stopped galaxies --- millions of broken clocks
Written: March 09, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's utterly aquiver and ambivalent
With is a glimmer of modesty
His fame stems from promoting peace
But who holds the power to bedraggle?
Let's embrace bel esprit, compassion, and mercy.
There is a path betwixt utterance and ubiquity
where knowledge flows freely
In quiet sternness, it evolves...
It wraps with a meandering debate.
Behold those who wept covertly,
Who wastes these precious tears?
When some dreams come to a halt,
Life endures and perseveres.
Who moistens their life, oh you?
Who bathes, but why won't submerge?
When water drifts away and out...
The monsoon remains never fades away.
A sacrifice can lead to martyrdom,
They have a way of shaping history
And confronts the dishonesty.
Fostering defiance and optimism,
aim for an idyllic future,
Leave a legacy.
And participate in upheaval.
What purpose does the blood serve?
Is it futile to draw that to a boil?
What's beneficial is the blood?
Is there a way to safeguard the soil?
Everyone raised a voice in reply,
Ahead of us is a fierce opponent
For the sake of the homeland,
We will shed our blood.
Massive monsoon is a mockery,
and done by my own volition;
The destruction making a fool of me;
These flooded eyes anyone could see
a change in the juxtaposition,
massive monsoon is a mockery;
Broken vision of calamity
colored more like a resolution,
the destruction making a fool of me;
Havoc lays waste to a palm tree
blind and deaf to what is fiction;
Massive monsoon is a mockery;
My heart and mind can never just be,
misled and controlled by my intuition;
The destruction making a fool of me
Something you could never bury
carnage plagued with resurrection;
Massive monsoon is a mockery
the destruction making a fool of me.
Through out the world the skies turned to black
Our oceans and seas were in turmoil from slack
The clouds grew stormy as the rains lashed down
Worldwide monsoon, many areas in drown
On CNN, many reporters are live
This phenomena of nature fills our skies
When suddenly a news flash appears on our screen
Lights through the clouds are in worldwide seen
Massive spaceships fill the clearing skies
As the world looks on in despair and surprise
They slowly descend as an opening appears
Shuttles so many, is this the start of our fears
Above us they hover as still as can be
These crafts from out there as we await and see
A column of light beams down to earth
In radius so large in sunlight girth
As i look down on the streets people are holding their ears
They all look like their screaming, eyes in tears
Then suddenly they stand like soldiers to attention
As i witness this scene i am too dumb to mention
I look down and wonder at the views that i see
As it suddenly dawns why its not happening to me
I am deaf and dumb, and have been from birth
An affliction till now, it now seems so worth
The shuttles that hovered, now all appear to land
Their doors are now opening is this what they planned
Down on the streets they all look as if tranced
As they turn to the shuttles in shuffling advance
By the hundreds they disappear into their dark
Taking of when full, beside the light they embark
I watch this unfold many many times again
Is this the end of us, humans earth reign
This tragic event goes on for days
As our population streams i look on in dismay
What can i do where do i turn
Do they take what they can, and to where and return
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-12.php
I heard the hollowness that this heart hithers ~
but to tame my tears, must I trust the twilight
that ripped me in tremors and toxic tales,
the titanium lightning that traded me thirsty,
like the thunder that cuts across the ribbed sky?
these tantalizing trembles of Thor have left me,
wilting in memories, where moon rests in malice
and the monsoon maiden murmurs in wrath,
unspoken within roars of wallflower leopards ~
who ink me, laced with tiger-lilies and lethal lies.
I ache for you, stretched across sun sighs,
a bereaved goddess of thunderstorms,
vows to sear within silver streaks of solace
stripped of silk and sacrifice,in rust-skin revolt,
seething a smile across slaughtered stars,
and be the Bronté light in brooding blindness,
that cunning cyans cease to code and conceal,
I am the feminine glitch of golden gloom ~
perfumed with mercuric petals that echo rain,
in the restless release of reverent renaissance...
I was born into the weeping skies of July in this part of the world
where the monsoon speaks in a language only the soul understands.
Rain, like liquid glass,
trickles down the banyan and banana leaves,
the air hums with the rhythm of life reborn,
and as a lullaby induces me to sleep.
The sowing takes place in paddy fields
where the showers provide them nourishment.
The month is for raindrops, longing, and renewal.
It carries the scent of earth awakening—
petrichor rising, an invisible hymn
that turns every street into a memory.
The thunder roars in its bold voice
while lightning sketches fleeting maps in the clouds.
History walks here too,
in the folds of the humid evenings,
where poets once sat with damp paper and wandering thoughts,
letting the rains wash away all but the essential truths.
I wonder if they felt what I feel—
a smallness, and yet,
a sense of being part of something vast and endless.
Rabindranath Tagore, the Nobel Laurette, a proud Bengali like me
inked innumerable verses and songs immersed in emotions and romance
of the rainy season.
There is joy in July,
the kind that blooms in puddles
and dances in barefoot steps—
a carefree spirit that the rains bring,
drenching you not in water,
but in stories.
Yet shadows linger,
in the quiet that follows the downpour.
The streets flood, and dreams stagnate.
The skies brood, heavy with secrets.
But even in this, there is beauty—
a promise that storms pass,
that clear skies are born from the chaos.
This is the month of resilience,
when life bends but does not break.
A time for prayers carried by the rain,
for whispered hopes left floating in the swollen Hooghly.
It is a song sung in minor chords,
melancholy, but deeply, deeply alive.
I carry July in my heart—
a woman of its storms and softness.
Its spirit breathes in me:
the courage to love the rain,
the patience to wait for the rainbow,
and the faith that every deluge ends
with the world washed clean.