Long Pelting Poems
Long Pelting Poems. Below are the most popular long Pelting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pelting poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
Where once verdant rolling highlands...
Spanned into infinite vista
far as these myopic eyes can see
now yellowing Whitmanesque
leaves of grass encompass field of vision.
Nary a dark dreadnaught cloud in sight,
nor unbeknownst if/when threatening storm
looms on horizon slaking parched land
delivering precipitation quenching thirsty terra firma.
I too experience vicarious dehydration
during bonafide dry spell
constituting theoretical string
hoop fully curtails weather beaten
flora and fauna
conceding blindingly bright
cloudless summer days
across disc (sky)
to amply liquidate shriveling assets.
Unbeknownst when spate of rainlessness,
(i.e. I pray for moderate soaking precipitation)
thwarting immediate indications
meteorologically signalling onset
regarding definition of drought.
Nothing more humbling
than cacophonous thunderstorm
nsync with jagged bolts of lightning
accompanying drenching downpour
analogous to downed wall of water
cascading from upper atmosphere
intermittently pelting landscape
albeit immediately, magically, quixotically...
transforming parched land (Highland Manor)
into profuse lusciousness
harkening Edenic denouement.
Impossible mission (this simple bumpkin)
(one local Schwenksville yokel)
(Civil War union soldier incarnate)
to forecast today/tonight
eventide of June twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty,
when Zeus will doctor
animals and plants courtesy
of requisite life source
also known as H2O,
comprising above mentioned
two hydrogen atoms
and one oxygen atom.
Ironic, how approximately
three quarters (seventy five sense)
engulfs planet Earth,
yet many environments
suffer inadequate deluges,
more so now with climate change
(global warming) increasing temperature
across oblate spheroid
compromising habitable places,
yet methinks coronavirus (COVID-19)
gave mother nature
much needed reprieve
cleansing heavily polluted urban areas
courtesy partial lockdown and restraint,
whereby *****sapiens
deterred, jackknifed, prohibited...
spewing noxious forth fossil fuel byproducts
encouraging, mustering,
plying, telecommuting, zooming
avast array of activities
augmented by virtual reality
technology supplanting mass transit,
thus diminishing deadly toxins
absorbed by all creatures
great and small.
And then I opened that door
Oh how sweet was the sight that came to my eyes
My feet, my lungs, my whole body felt so sore
My house, my room, my couch, why it all seemed to be paradise!
Yes, see you, I have done a big blunder
I came out of it, thankfully
All I ever wanted to do was to be a cool journeyer
One who enjoyed long walks in the country
That day, I woke up at five, left home at six
Walked to the hills with the help of sticks
Watched the sunrise
Being, by such beauty, all mesmerized!
I sat up on the hill
I sat up and let my heart be still
I closed my eyes, and smiled
Why, thought I, life's miseries are sometimes worthwhile!
I chose to sit for a while
The scene unveiled itself to me in great style
How beautiful seemed to be grass wet with dew
Why, now, though still young, I did feel like I have lived through!
I lost track of time, I sat there for I don't know how long
At last, I did choose to get back home
That was when the rain started pelting; I knew I had to keep strong
I knew I had to, if I wanted to get back home, where it's safe and warm!
I climbed down the hill in haste, hoping lightning would not strike my body
I slipped, fell in the mud, got back up on my feet and tried to be steady
I walked on, I was drenched, I could not see my way
I really thought, my soul, on the hill on that day, would stay!
I walked on, with the sound of thunder roaring over my head
I prayed to be kept alive, in such a way, I did not want to be dead
I knew not when I reached some road
Some road with an unknown destination as its lead!
I looked left and right
Knowing not which way would lead me home safe
I was all moved with fright
For the worst did I brace
That was when a weird looking truck came towards me
The driver saw me and stopped, feeling for me, some pity
I'm lost, I said, can you help me reach home
Sure, he said, sure, get in I'll get you home!
All the way, he talked, he laughed, he joked
Still I was in fright
When I saw my neighborhood at last, from my daze I woke
Thanked the man heartily and rushed to my home with, in my heart, a jolt!
And when I opened that door
Oh you know not how it left me, all that was sore
I survived the worst of what I chose to do
Now, I did learn that it is not good at all, to overdo!
18 June 2015
the mountains groaned, repulsed
by the distant grumble of thunder’s rough
voice rising on the edges of the dark
stirring the distant gaze of a still twilight
flooded with shadows, hasty halos
remembering what comes, after the storm
the gentle pelting, pretty droplets
erasing the murmur of leaves, dancing
crisp as the shadows, forever trembling
a certain power beneath the streams
pouring out their feelings, on hills
burning with laughter, seeking the night
where a brilliant lavender sky
sings to the explosion of light…
You are there, in the prayer
melting away the pain, the despair
quieting the music of a storm
who knows my most intimate yearnings
the muse of a promise, coursing
through veins of light, inklings
of a lost moment, when melancholy
sings, so alive on the still skies
where floods of water, stream, breaking
through the forest, woodsy scents
like pine and moss, delicate
overpowering the still muse.
In the center of this storm,
an ache, a presence, so forlorn
you pour out light from your warm,
you restore peace to my heart
you remind my soul, you’re the One
who tells the winds to blow,
who shows the moon its glow
who breaths hope into the flow
of wistful showers, all the hours
a storm who is sent to show
every heart, the music of hope
as a song fades from the soul
who hears the wind
and heeds the stirring
of a prayer beneath the dark
praising You, my heart’s renown
my spirit’s peace,
my great belief…
You are the One
who colors my love
with grace and joy
a gentle knowing – that Your love
will guide me through the storm,
never allowing me to worry,
always freeing me so I know
You are the One who will lead me on,
to a distant home, a heaven who knows
this is love – from God above,
the One who tells the storm to grow
the One who tells the storm to go
the One who tells the storm to restore
gentle peace to the mountain and shore
a still, cool breath from the spirit of grace,
peace that is more than a heart can expect,
the love that assures me You won’t reject.
In the eye of the storm…
You are my relief, my consolation, my security
the answer to my prayer for a still, sweet beautiful
who can prepare my heart to see
beyond the storm, to the eternal singing, its urgent touch.
Strange invader, from the moment I awaken, you are there -
a disgusting leech that has no name.
I describe you to various doctors.
They tell me they don’t know you
and pretend to believe me on how you appeared in my body.
Yet they are clueless and cannot rid me of you.
I know how you appeared; you got inside me
through injections of an unnecessary evil called Prolia.
Stupidly, I guessed the truth too late
that Prolia was allowing you to take control of me.
By the fourth injection of that toxin within two years,
my tongue burned bright red, and I knew then
you were firmly ensconced inside me.
My brain appears to be your headquarters,
from where you perform your unholy operations.
At first you increased my saliva to the extent that
by injection number 2, I was spitting out my food.
Later you added new weird side effects such as inner spinning.
Though I stopped injections, a few years later
you transformed into other seemingly supernatural forces:
changing my mouth into feeling numerous changing textures.
These would come and go until today
my mouth is left at the bottom with a squishy feeling
that barely is relieved by the chewing of gum.
I press my lips together and they are numb.
You are the bane of my life.
Saliva still flows but not as strongly
as your effects surge through me, primarily on my back.
You have hijacked my nervous system.
Unholy parasite, you malevolently induce unnatural feelings.
The inner spinning changed to something worse.
Sometimes I feel as if I am being pushed from behind.
Other times, the pushing changes into a squeezing sensation.
I have no name for what you really are,
but I have names for your different types of aggravation.
When you squeeze my back, I name you Octopus Tentacles.
Other times you are a hard rain pelting my back.
Often you are a surge that coincides
with an excess amount of saliva in my mouth.
My one relief is to press my back against a chair
or the pillow on my bed; ahhhh, to be in my bed!
Seven years after cancer’s visit, I continue to live with YOU.
People tell me not to bring you up, for then you might go away.
But I waken from nice dreams, and there you are, awaiting me.
Strange invader, you have made the inconvenience of cancer
seem entirely minor compared to you.
Here are four survivors of a rocket that had crashed.
For a great distance, they had walked through rain that had splashed
so long, and so hard, that everything was turning white.
The downpour continued steadily through day and night.
“Does it ever stop raining on Venus?” one could ask.
A journey through the planet’s ceaseless rain is a task.
It requires the strongest earthmen to endure the rain;
a challenging test to withstand frustration and pain.
Venusian jungles are thick with vegetation.
Survival is usually of short duration.
The torrential downpour cuts through the trees and the land.
It is steady and so strong. A man can hardly stand.
It’s continual pelting of raindrops on his head.
It does not take long before most men wish they were dead.
On this planet, there is one thing that they would call home.
It is a round, yellow building known as a “sun dome”.
Inside, there’s a man-made plasma giving light and heat;
where it is dry and comfortable, with food to eat.
Thirty days and nights had passed since their space ship was downed.
They blindly tread through the rain until a dome was found.
However, inside, it was dark and cold with no sound.
Gashed holes in the ceiling proved there was no one around
Venusians attacked here and killed everybody.
These creatures were infamous for their savagery.
On the map, another dome was shown to be nearby.
Only a few kilometers away, it would lie.
They would leave in search of the next dome they hoped was near.
Their compass readings were off; their position not clear.
Suddenly, their ship with two dead crewmen would appear.
They had traveled in a circle, causing them great fear.
A dark, ominous, electrical cloud they would see,
spewing thousands of lightning bolts, a monstrosity.
This caused their compasses to show inaccuracy.
The group’s leader yelled “Everybody get down right now”,
but one man stayed up and tried to run away somehow.
He was struck by the lightning, and was burned quite badly.
Remains of this man were charred beyond identity.
The raging storm cost the crew another casualty.
The three remaining men continued on their journey,
blindly hoping a sun dome was in propinquity.
Based on the short story "The Long Rain" by Ray Bradbury
Praise
Falling gently from the mountains,
Singing to the winds, in silence – tenderness
Gentling the hopes that enter the spirit,
The ones who let us know – we’re His,
Promised a home in heaven,
Where we’ll always be together –
Forever and ever…
Raining soft on the fondest thoughts,
Melodies so rich with love – compassion
Filling the spirit with a sense of peace,
Offering the moments His greatest gift –
Salvation, the faith to simply believe…
He is the One who makes a way
Past the doubts, the tears – the enemies
Of grace…
He is the One who reassures the soul
There is more than this, more than a wish –
There is a beautiful beyond our comprehension,
A serenity that soothes away all life’s tension,
There is a miracle that combines joy and peace,
Inspiring a faith that paints the entire heart
In hopefulness…
Pelting the spirit with beautiful prayers,
Inspirations so gentle, so alive,
Feelings flow soft, like the liquid of a tear,
Melting away the darkness, the fear,
With a wisdom that comes alive inside
The heart who knows – He is the light,
He is the ache, the yearning, the knowing –
Without Him, there is no hope
Without Him, there is no light
Without Him, there is no peace
Without Him, there is no faith
Because He is – I can believe that He is…
The answer to my needs, my dreams,
Everything that stirs up the flames of courage in me,
The burning conscious – alive with His reflection,
His grace filling me with assurance, acceptance,
All I’ll ever need for the know, without a doubt…
Without Him, there is no reason to go on…
Without Him, there is no love to lean upon…
Without Him, there is no joy from knowing the One
Who makes a way for the heart and soul,
A way to experience the wonder beyond words,
The wonderful that comes from being a part of this promise…
Because He is – I will live forever…
Beyond this world, in the eternal – forever
Alive like the One who made me, saved me
And gave me the hope for everlasting life in heaven!
Praise goes up and blessings fall down –
Silencing all doubt, reminding me that, through prayer
Through listening to His word, His spirit –
I can be filled with assurance that He is always with me!
If life itself does have no meaning
Pray, tell me, does justice need to come from the divine
From that power which is still mystifying
From that power which is still in the process of being philosophized
Why, see you, I believe that justice should come from ourselves
Following the standards we have set ourselves
Based on a set of moral values
Based on the laws of all societies
Of course, we do have to pray for justice
Of course, we do have to let the heavens do their part
But what of the demoniac nature of man
That which causes him to have always evil prevailing in this land
What to make of such a man, if not to show him justice
Is it not said that humanity is made of two sides
One side shines with light, while the other ones rejoices in being sinful
Pray, what to make of such an evil man, if not to show him instant justice
Some do, in all sorts of evil acts, take pride
Others do see in those acts, something so beautiful
Pity I these people for they are made of blindness
Pretending to be followers of the Great One, they do find joy in sinful activities
So, justice does be for me, whatever does will the moral standards
Indeed, justice does be for me, the victory of truth
Yes, justice does be for me, humanity, living side by side, in peace
Justice, does be for me, constant and stable happiness
Justice does be for me, the vanquishing of those inner demons
Those that make us, to sins, so prone
Justice does be for me, the way life reminds us all that God does be somewhere
Even if He does seem to be always absent and even inexistent
Justice does be for me, the proof of my muse's love for me
My muse, my God, my angel, the one giving me company
Justice does be, the paths He does clear
Justice does be, the tears He does dry
Justice does be the way He keeps me smiling
Even when the rain is pelting or the desert remains all dry
Justice does be the look scary snakes do give me
When they try to bite me but cannot, for my heart beats to the rhythms of the sky!
Justice,
Divine peace
Human intervention
Justice, the only way to find in this world, peace!
Anoucheka Gangabissoon
5 September 2015
For Contest Justice
Sponsored by Tammy Reams
Turtle by the Door
The bears and wolves are few;
one threadbare widow mourning,
two grays as consumptive as smoke.
The large dwindle,
their bodies grow more awkward,
more at odds.
The heavier beast's sway
like drunks in the scant woods.
Under a pelting dark they come.
Beneath a stabbing ice, one by one-
the animals.
I listen to their shuffling,
the scrape of delving claws.
They are scavenging,
pulled closer to me by visceral prods.
Hesitant paws withdraw as they near,
a restlessness keeps them gnawing
a middle ground.
I crane my neck from its ribcage;
they fall back and return,
wanting - always wanting.
The small creatures enter
where cracks fill with moonlight.
They scuttle and hesitate,
a little way,
a little.
I am Turtle,
a makeshift thing,
cloud-splashed and sullied.
I sing back the needy shadows,
cast my lamplight eyes
onto their weltered
hair-streaked hides.
~~~
Turtle Speaks
I did not bundle this day’s flesh,
nor did I carry it to a pathless end.
I merely watched it pass over black mountains,
slip away over thinning trails.
The sky-tent will catch fire again.
I am a roughhewn turtle.
I am starlight in a mud-pool.
A blind faced mole has carried
the moon up from the dirt once more,
though it is only a white bone,
only a hollow tooth.
Turtle am I, an unwrought creator;
one who watches,
who knows not to say
what cannot be said.
~~
Turtle Goes to the Light
Turtle's carcass is nibbled
into threads of brown river water.
His empty shell tumbles lazily
in slow currents.
Turtle stays where the starry mammoths
beat sunlight into skin and bone,
and he waits.
Mole, beaver, and badger
heap the dead upward
until light licks them away.
The world feeds upon itself,
time weaves new moth wings
from long buried evenings.
Then turtle reappears.
He hatches from an egg pushed through
green sludge and marsh fire,
he returns as a burnt shadow.
Turtle's leathery tongue clacks
he calls to all the blood-filled:
“Come again,
come around and around” he calls.
When his song is done
he perches on a scorched log
in the middle of everywhere
as silent as a stone.
Turtle by the Door
The bears and wolves are few,
one threadbare widow mourning,
two grays as consumptive as smoke.
The large dwindle,
their bodies grow more awkward,
more at odds.
The heavier beast's sway
like drunks in the scant woods.
Under a pelting dark they come.
Beneath a stabbing ice, one by one-
the animals.
I listen to their shuffling,
the scrape of delving claws.
They are scavenging,
pulled closer to me by visceral prods.
Hesitant paws withdraw as they near,
a restlessness keeps them gnawing
a middle ground.
I crane my neck from its ribcage,
they fall back and return,
wanting - always wanting.
The small creatures enter
where cracks fill with moonlight.
They scuttle and hesitate,
a little way,
a little.
I am Turtle,
a makeshift thing,
cloud-splashed and sullied.
I sing back the needy shadows,
cast my lamplight eyes
onto their weltered
hair-streaked hides.
~~~
Turtle Speaks
I did not bundle this day’s flesh,
nor did I carry it to a pathless end.
I merely watched it pass over black mountains,
slip away over thinning trails.
The sky-tent will catch fire again.
I am a roughhewn turtle.
I am starlight in a mud-pool.
A blind faced mole has carried
the moon up from the dirt once more,
though it is only a white bone,
only a hollow tooth.
Turtle am I, an unwrought creator,
one who watches,
who knows not to say
what cannot be said.
~~
Turtle Goes to the Light
Turtle's carcass is nibbled
into threads of brown river water.
His empty shell tumbles lazily
in slow currents.
Turtle stays where the starry mammoths
beat sunlight into skin and bone,
and he waits.
Mole, beaver, and badger
heap the dead upward
until light licks them away.
The world feeds upon itself,
Time weaves new moth wings
from long buried evenings.
Then turtle reappears.
He hatches from an egg pushed through
green sludge and marsh fire.
He returns as a burnt shadow.
Turtle's leathery tongue clacks
he calls to all the blood-filled:
“Come again,
come around and around” he calls.
When his song is done
he perches on a scorched log
in the middle of everywhere
as silent as a stone.