Long Thundercloud Poems
Long Thundercloud Poems. Below are the most popular long Thundercloud by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thundercloud poems by poem length and keyword.
I would fly up high on whispering wings
unseen, unheard, so way above the cloud
and look upon the beggars and the kings
some poor, and others with great wealth endowed
I would fly up high on whispering wings
to see a multi-billionaire, so proud
while yet another for their supper sings
melancholy, slow; head down; beaten, cowed.
I would fly up high on whispering wings
look down upon the Earth, its growing crowd
and wonder what or who ordains these things
some in ragged clothes, some in golden shroud
I would fly up high on whispering wings
then I would take them all; I once avowed;
those with far, far too many shiny blings,
and smite them all from darkest thundercloud!
In the lines of your quarried face
are granite truths and pastel mysteries
part-time jester - full-time thief of hearts
doubting the existence of great gifts,
tears in the fabric of self-worth.
In the violet crag of your word,
the echoes of a billion wizened steps.
Sunflower soul - harboring underground seeds.
Lightning bolt anger marbled with hummingbird heartbeats.
A moth-dusted soul seeking something ocean blue deep.
Something more than shallow phrases and rat-nibbled deeds.
You're a parched rose praying for thundercloud attention.
Yearning for a different flavor of strength.
A heart minted with the firmament of God.
To know for certain that angels tend to your day.
From your ruby colored throat, there are gentle night songs
and the hooves of tragedies approaching.
Flung The monsoon midnight thunderings
When I thought of the thunder snow
Deep into the darkness chattering
Taking the summer sandstorm from out of my heart cold
Suddenly I heard some waiting
Only this and a thundercloud I crave
This the silent stormless star burstings
Alas that poacherous lightning I discovered waves
Those of the whirlwinds
I can't see, nor can I move go
I am deaf and blinded by thunder snow
Instead I uncovered the mess of spears skins
I craved the splendid sorrowful snow blizzard
Rising Sun dimly shining
The dust falls from the sky
Sounds of thunder went to's cry I crave
The splendid storm full qual
I felt compelled to sniff the air
To warn me about the chromosphere
The trees I could not awaken here
My ears popped my knees are shaking
I can't see nor can I move go
I am deaf and blinded by thunder snowing
That moment my soul grew stormless through the cries blow
And wonders has clouds collide
Making rumbles midnight thundering thunder
My eyes sighting clouds floating like a pillow ride
As the sun shines wondering crack boom kaboom-pow
I can't see nor can I move go
I am deaf and blinded by thunder snow/em>
2/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
No one’s exactly sure how this buffalo in the 1960s
Found its way to live in the heart of the city
How it separated from a sky stampede
How the great beast dropped its guard and refused to riot
With the rest left to genocide
Like a plummeting thundercloud the buffalo grazes its saliva rain
Across an offshoot of a sweet grass park
Two miles from the high rises of downtown
The park and the buffalo someone’s good imagination
About prairie dogs antelope turtles and yes a buffalo
Thought the animals could be tricked to think
Smokestacked Lansing as a flat windy home
Ignore the fences
The gunpowder white faces
Staring
The shaggy hippie never moves
Every time my mom and dad drive me by
Lost
On the way to the University Club
But to catch a glimpse of such a rarity
From a dirty kid in the backseat
Was the real highlight of Sunday brunch with exclamations
“There it is! I saw it!”
The buffalo’s noble anger never looks
Over
His mound of molting shoulder
Cornered in himself
Like drinking fog
Imperceptibly taking the Earth’s wet tall grass to his mouth
I wonder if such a creature can feel its loneliness?
If any of us
Can know of our own isolation?
I think so
For even as a modern bandit
I could instinctly understand that
As I grow much older and stand as still
To that now disappeared wonder
I think
And remember
More than ever.
`
Rejoice, unknown of waking fall
Apart this longish bramble path
For lest we stand ‘bove lowered feel
And lone of echo’s loudest call
Of whisperings we shan’t conceal
Despised this threatened aftermath
Now formed of cost and promised wrath
If only but to heed the charge
These observations kept at large
Neath thundercloud and pouring rain
A prequel to the coming pain
Unkempt in true ballistic rage
Through iron bars and bolted cage
Lost memories we soon engage
In jest, we conquer phantom dreams
As rivers drown in roaring streams
With night a fantasy to spill
And mouths of babes we come to fill
For here we die in darkened form
When crying tears we’d soon forget
Submerged within the caustic storm
Alone with every found regret
12/30/19
Written for the: Strict rhyme and meter challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Son Of Spock
Rhyme scheme: ABCACBBDDEEFFFGGHHIJIJ
Everybody knows
It's been a long road
Everybody knows
It's been a long road
I been tryin' hard
Not to leave my soul behind
I been tryin' hard
Not to forget who I was
And every thundercloud
That threatened my nice day
Well it made me even stronger
This is a victory song
Everybody knows
It's been a long road
Everybody knows
It's been a long road
I slowly picked up the pieces
And made myself whole again
I been tryin' real hard
Not to forget who I am now
The truth is...
Nobody knew
It's been a long road
Nobody knew
It's been a long road
...A really long road
Selectively forgetful,
That's what my mother says -
When I'm called to do some work,
I escape in funny ways.
I'm running short of time now
But I'll tell you all I can
Of all my weird excuses,
Perhaps the worst made by man.
''Can't hear you!'' I'll just say,
''Cause the fan is way too loud''.
And then I'll hear the footfall
Like a crashing thundercloud.
Another thing I say is
''Just wait, I'm coming along,''
Then my dad comes up and says
''What you are doing's wrong''.
Those two are the most common -
See, I'm capable of much much more,
But my storybook's now being snatched out
And thrown through the bedroom door!
`
For in the end
we are all broken,
falling to moments like this
Scattered the pieces of
love never spoken,
lost in the whispers amiss
Thundercloud feelings
now forming,
save me in spite of my tears
Clouds of the past darken,
constantly storming,
drenched far beneath dampened fears
Caught in a flood
of emotions,
silent the sky bids adieu
Running from tides
now awakening oceans,
ripples remind me of you
Seeing the moon
brightly glowing,
pointing its beams down in shame
Checking a list between
wanting and knowing,
it is my own fault to blame
Why can’t I make
this decision,
here as my world comes a part
Feeling the blade of
your sharpened incision,
slicing a piece of my heart
Oh how I wish I
were blinded,
truly unable to see
Then of these dreams I now
find I’m reminded,
would have no bearing on me
Still there’s a part
that is shaken,
rooted in memories grown
Tossed on the roadside of
shadows forsaken,
hopelessly left all alone
Cast to the depths
that are calling,
no need to look for the dawn
Shattered and broken and
steadily falling,
all since the day you were gone
9/23/19
Written for the: Pick a line, any line Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
‘For in the end we are all broken’ – A line from Richard’s poem “Broken People”
‘Save me in spite of my tears’ – A line from my poem, “So Soft is the Sonnet of Willows”
A fine man of his time, has proper explanation
for our predicament. No good man would look him down even
if they disagreed on face masks. He stayed on the deeply alien Trump land
where fantasy reigned with vehement surge in parallel to the disease.
You may commend him, or reprehend him, nothing affects his mission to
guide us to safety. If praise is needed, he elbows it to the side. To feats of platitude he's a total stranger, speaking with reason next to a phantom of opera and his zeal for wilderness of delirium. Acute is the pandemic and his place in history reserved in the circle of giants, the greatest of our era. In confidence, he's tracking down a virus in its black thundercloud, a light that sheds a modest ray with magnanimous lament. We are bound to him as a teacher and philosopher who learns from immemorial sages and their warm and tranquil nests with bursts of energy on his calm, sweet face that speaks truth to the power of disease, what he foremost relishes is a good vaccine news.
In the summertime there were lots of cars and trucks moving up and down Cherry alley where I lived. Like the local bakery truck, many would stop to peddle their wares or deliver their goods. Their engines were not machined as perfect as today and so, when idling, they would inevitably leak some oil onto the asphalt.
In the late afternoon on those warm summer days, an occasional thundercloud would appear. Those dark heavy clouds would then split open like chickpeas, spilling their contents on us. For a short while, those brief, intense downpours would beat everything into submission, then pass as quickly as they had come. Afterward, the sun would appear from behind the clouds in full glory; puffed up to full intensity as though to say: “if you thought that was something, feel this!” Then she would cast her fierce fire upon the asphalt until thin rivulets of steam would rise from the street. It seemed an upward-bound wagon train of raindrops fleeing the sun's heat; attempting to return to the safety of their cloud.
Behind them they left oil slicks in ever widening circles of rainbow colors.
It seemed a reflection of joy as the oil embraced the warmth of the sun. The circles spread outward like the blossoming of a flower. It was like the thankfulness of a prayer I shared with them for the precious gift of sunlight.
I will always remember the beauty of the rainbows on the street where I lived.
Today, I see people who choose only to visit the dark side of their lives.
The oil slick on their road. For them, everything appears ugly or wrong.
But given that we have a choice, wouldn’t each life be so much brighter
if we looked at things through the beauty of the rainbows.