Long Thunder Poems
Long Thunder Poems. Below are the most popular long Thunder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thunder poems by poem length and keyword.
White lightning flashes through my heart’s bliss
Tumultuous light rose sky holds her own
Pink heart shaped aura shows the truth of the night
Sky clouded by purple blood clotting thunder clouds
White lightning flashes through my heart’s bliss
Reflecting on the waters of my feelings
Causing me to reexamine my nature self
Wanting the joyousness I sense under the surface
Tumultuous light rose sky holds her own
Bringing my state of being into rapid submission
As I feel the God-mind smiling His truth into my
Subconscious mind where my feelings lie
Pink heart shaped aura shows the truth of the night
Lulling me into a blissful state, clearing the way for
Pretty pinks and majestic purples to light me up.
Accented by the purity of my natural ignited energy.
Sky clouded by purple clotting thunder clouds
Brings me back to my true nature, reminding me
Attitude is totally my choice, and I can feel my bliss
Only after fully understanding what my soul wants.
sipping cider, and pumpkin spice
nurturing joy, autumn’s sweet price
blessing my heart, leaves keep falling
raining grace on my life’s calling
warm thoughts caress my soul’s intent
these blessings are why I was sent
autumn’s rhythms are gently stalling
raining grace on my life’s calling
jumping in the leaves, such wonder
my heart is beating like thunder
autumn’s gasping winds keep squalling
raining grace on my life’s calling
roaring fires and the crunch of leaves
reminds me that my heart believes
autumn’s ink, soundlessly scrawling
raining grace on my life’s calling
aching verses shed silent fears
singing God’s peace through gentling tears
merry skies steal hearts, recalling
raining grace on my life’s calling
Copper bones clanking with the sound of screams far off.
Surrender is the only option I have.
Taking it all to Jesus I kneel and know he has me covered.
Washed in the blood of God himself I am forever joined by Yeshua.
Trusting in perfect peace I am guided by grace.
Planes continue to fly over head.
Thunder crackles through the silence.
The rain hitting the window cools down the summer heat.
I am aware of my own sense of self.
Shackled to my reality I belong as the center of my own experiences.
Echoes of consciousness felt from a first person perspective.
Aware of my limited gnosis I can only rest in my faith in Jesus.
On the third level, the revelry had ceased,
there was a great peace,
here, in the communal gardens,
a calm, joyousness descending,
a few people already resting,
on the grass, they lay,
the Tigress,
here to meet the Dark Man.
such quiet solitude touched her,
the gardens, good for the soul,
all the songs of glory,
they reached this place of respite,
many started to leave the gardens,
walking down to level two,
most singing came from that vicinity,
the joy went on.
On the fourth level, almost silence,
very few voices could be heard,
the dwellers here, now at work,
they worked within the golden palace,
A few children were singing,
they did sing the old tales with gusto,
High pitched voices, almost lost upon the breeze that blew.
A few children were on the street,
dancing to the song being sung,
their laughter, a balm to the heart,
it was a joy to hear,
Alahsar, alive with gaiety, joy and love,
hearts were truly singing,
would that every heart would ever sing.
The golden palace,
atop the mountain,
awash with light,
The softer songs of Alahsar,
they come from deep within,
within each room,
rge sumptuous splendour of priceless jewels,
All but a few are happy within,
they all await the guest of honour.
Outside, the storm reaches its zenith,
the mother of darkness sings,
soon, from the heart of the storm,
the Dark Man and Turvehr come,
Many watch the sky,
alive with thunderous terror,
soon he would come,
The storm alive now,
the thunder booms,
the lightning flashes.
Once more, the mists of time fall over Alahsar,
once more I must have my horn charged,
the mead shall soothe the dry throat,
in bardic, melodic voice, the song shall sing again.
Soon we shall return to golden Alahsar,
the city of dream,
the words of elder songs,
they shall sing out in power and glory,
kike running waters the words shall flow,
painting their visions of wonder,
the glory of Alahsar shall live again,
your Bard giving life to antiquity's song.
To Be Continued..........
Some pondered ways
to pep-up the pulpit and pew,
but disinterest and ennui won the day.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.
Eventually, thunder and sleet
cracked stone, spire, and gable;
neglect, and the cold winds of time
nibbled at arch and buttress.
Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot.
Where once the hems of cassocks swept
now mice and spiders rest or nest,
and baby bats roost in the rectory.
There In a dusty belfry
owls hoot and solemnly perch.
Walls crumbling to niche and cranny.
Amid all this spacy ruin
jackdaws lay their speckled eggs,
while in the misty moonlight
homeless angels dance
upon feather-light, slinky legs.
Are you waiting for a word that burns your heart like so much flame?
Are you waiting for a voice of thunder calling out your name?
Are you waiting for the world to shake as God reveals His plan?
Are you angry at the silence that you just don’t understand?
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
The world can be so loud, it can drown out the Lord’s voice
So that though you ache for silence you are drowning in the noise.
It’s easy to ignore the quiet song you hear inside.
And it’s easy to return to the noise in which you hide.
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
Take some time to listen in your hectic, busy day.
Toss away distractions, you may hear what God will say.
If you find that your heart longs to hear and know God’s holy word,
Open up your heart where His quiet voice is heard.
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
It was just so wet and cruel
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
O’ver lands and cradle lines
Valleys low at shore
That morning, Raine was shocked by the twist
She had to calm herself with a ridicule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist (swisssh)
Later, Raine was spooked by the bliss
She tried to focus on a drool
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Heated tried to distract her with a fist
Said it was time to start thinking about the pools
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
Raine took action like a grist
The mist was like a toxic school
But she could never forget the gist
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Raine nosedived like a white midst
Her mind turned into a vestibule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
But she could never forget the gist
12/22/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
A Villanelle verse
We are the weavers of our words
We weave the blanket that covers us
Gives warmth to our bodies
And peace to our souls
We weave the picture of us,
The hawk, the fish, the deer,
The stream, the snow, the winds that blow
The sun that rises and the stars that lead us
They are the spirits of earth and the heavens
We weave from the spirit in the wool
With words from the legends of our ghosts
Our hands are the storytellers
Teaching the hearts of our children
For we weave to tell them the story
So they will not forget the words
Our words are like the breath of who we are
We breathe in to take in the life we need
We breathe out to give back to our world
All that we are and have created
We speak our words of joy and peace,
Of the drum of war and the thunder of our gods
Listen to the crying of our people chanting
Of the life that was before they divided us
The threads we weave are bound with the blood
That flows from the rivers of our circle
Known as UNALAYEE
The gathering place in our heart
The sacred seed of our people
So gather now in friendship, love and peace
And warm your spirit with all the stories
Set upon the weave of our blanket
And know how your life is given
March 3, 2023
Strand Pemiere No 1194 Poetry Contest
All day long earth flirted with the sullen atmosphere,
twirling her floral skirts, tossing her hair like Guinevere.
Her eyelids all aflutter, winking -- she is a dangerous coquette --
the air is close and heavy, all creation pants and sweats . . .
darkness falls. Tired of her teasing, earth turns her head to sleep,
but the atmosphere feels slighted, a storm of anger in him leaps,
his fascination kindled by the earth's seductive wiles.
In the blackness lightning flashes in a vivid, crooked smile.
He will never be mistreated by a flirtatious, foolish girl;
his thwarted passion heightens, a revolting, vicious swirl.
There is violence on the planet, the sky bows her head and weeps
as the thunder roars like cannons and thick winds, twistedly, sweep.
Daylight finds earth ravished, her floral skirts scattered, in shreds,
but the atmosphere has lightened; the guilty storm has fled.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, June 27, 2014
One dreams, one dreamt, together in the rain,
Beneath an awning, river in the lane,
In boredom, and bold confidence of youth,
The lad set forth to dwell upon the truth.
“It’s all a pointless fury, is it not?
Our little lives, in vast confusion caught.
And like the dirt that’s flowing by our feet,
There’s nothing left, when all the sum’s complete.”
The old man looked upon him, speaking slow,
And he said, “Son, that ain’t the way to go.”
The thunder spoke in quiet ‘tween the two,
But as it died, the young man spoke anew.
“I don’t say all’s the same, no Stoic I,
I want my pile of gold before I die.
Though life's a wretched mess, no wretch I'll be,
What good there is, I'll bring it home to me.”
The old man looked upon him, speaking slow,
And he said, “Son, that ain’t the way to go.”
The anger of the storm soon passed away,
And little patience had the lad to stay.
But as he turned to leave, as in a trance,
The old man said, beneath his thoughtful glance,
“When the music plays, don’t forget to dance.”