Long Tornado Poems
Long Tornado Poems. Below are the most popular long Tornado by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tornado poems by poem length and keyword.
In this here vast expansive desert plateau
At the end of the day when the shimmering
heat from the sun dilapdates
And the only thing that is left is basking
silhouettes lit up by a celestial lunula
afterglow of tripping neon
A mind has the ability then to create
a whirlwind tornado whip and release
the sand from the dune's to which
it's bound
To dance a dance according to your
own tune playing out within your head
Similarly like looking up at the sky
and seeing faces in the clouds that
may or may not be there
Will if the sun dare come up will make
you turn the gun on you
With your own finger still placed firmly
on the trigger
Patiently wanting wondering to know if
you have had all the life squeezed out of
you
And if you haven't eagerly awaiting for
the final pop and gun to go off
A visual silhouette of lightning crystal
sand
Returning dust back unto dune dust
from whence it came
Until only night and day remain
A human tornado,
driven,
by influence,
by affluence,
by effluence.
The flotsam and the jetsam.
Come and get some.
I would not have came here
were it not for you.
You blame the walls,
I bounce off the walls.
The gift horse is here,
we claw at our eyes as he opens his mouth.
I stare into space and stare into space,
nothing, then galaxies pass by at pace.
starlit hands caress my face,
I am a human race.
I tell you of flying saucers and topless barmaids,
but you never believe me.
You tell me a fungus has spawned in my brain,
And as I was lost, I am found,on ground, again.
For a moment there you took me off task,
retreat or surrender, was that the ask?
But my lungs start beating,
and I breathe through my heart.
It is life that I cheat,
It is death where we part.
And in my pink and black neon euphoria,
I roll up my sleeves and I am back in the game.
Form:
Give me a season....give me a reason...to start anew
It's gonna be autumn soon and the leaves are dropping like dew
Give me a season...give me a reason...to change color
I bet I'd be the color blue....Ohoohooooh... But I'm just a blur
Give me a stairway...teach me the baby steps...to start anew
It's gonna be a tornado...pretty soon and the wind is blowing so true
Hold my hand...hold it tight...give me your trust...give me a sign of contentment
I bet you're the color yellow...like the burning sun....ohoohoooooh...we'll set up a tent
We'll be together at last...the ocean won't separate us...ohoohoooooh no!
We'll be partners at task....the mountains won't make us give up...ooh ooh no!
We'll be together all the time!
We'll be together...no matter what time...
What season...what day...what hour
We both got the power
And we won't cower!
We will blossom up like a flower
And we will be as vigilant as a tower!
I'll change the season to spring time
Just for you...just for you...
I'll obliterate the darkness and destruction...I'll wipe off the grime
From your hand...from your hand
Our friendship will never cease
And we'll create peace...
Peace in mind
Peace that you'll find
In the Spring time
There is a time
For peace, love and hope
I'll do what you wish and never say "nope!"
Because we'll be working together
And we will conquer!
And we will be stronger!
And we'll create peace...
in due time...we'll have peace in mind
Peace that we'll find
In the Springtime
Abattoir, thy cover black:
Written in red blood:
Spells within thy fabled stack?
Mud, become a flood.
Now to brew some trouble, sirs!
Grab some land up high!
Mother Entropy murmurs!
Chaos, keeping dry?
Unleash the primal forces!
O rivers, running red?
Looking dark in our sources!
Humanity, bed!
Tympani, tornado.
Quahog clam, pie of quince.
Groundhog, shadow? Even so.
Four leaf clover mints.
Raspberry bush, hollyhock.
Gather well, honeybee.
Belladonna, blighted balk.
Vile the vintage, flea.
Schedule, on the third weekday.
Doom and disarray.
Debts cyclopean, repay.
Help them lose their way.
Dismay, dismantling. Starling:
Mournfully sheep sing.
Monsters love. To altar bring.
Machine, maddening...
Sting of sadness, great is grief.
Strong beyond belief!
Lawyer, judge, thy legal brief?
Coral, build a reef.
For an hour
Cicadas saw at the early August evening
While thunder purrs as kittens
In the yarn of dark clouds balled up out west over Ionia County
Trees prepare their umbrellas
The Tigers on TV swing away in the 3rd inning
A good book in hand
Then out of hand
A den of lions-wind roars outside our patio window
Devours the screens
I jump back
House turns black
And our 100-year old standing friends
Just like that
Break in half no more than the unlucky draw of straws
While others are plucked like Hedgehog mushrooms
All thrown down
At dawn
Sunlight strikes of leftover lightning
Flashes through new holes punched in the canopy
I hadn’t seen the sky in my backyard for decades
But there it is
Claw marks across the laid-down lambs on forest floor
And upon the beast of me who lies beside them.
Aardvark, audience, aim, address.
Double creature feature, sign sore stress.
Poets, penury, paucity, peak.
Prophets of the pack never wet the beak...
Carrion chic? Run raw revile.
Roundabout the dugout, crocodile!
Reptilian art in forgotten caves.
Knolly, unholy, goal, giant graves...
Mercy saves. Greed kills. No pain pills.
Mighty steel walls hemming in the hills.
Lemming, when you fall, do you see doom?
Certain curtain call, boulder seals tomb...
Flickering foxfire, foregone fate.
Heaven and Hell, horror and hate.
Tormented tornado and tired typhoon.
Chemicals dissolving in my spoon...
Queen of Carthage Dido, homebody high!
Stay with me forever in the bye and bye!
Fair as a naga queen in angry mood!
Hit it with wit if it's talking rude!
Buoyant like the hopes of a matador!
Quicken with thy cape, vampire! Be sure.
Yellow priestess, ritual sleek!
Alliance Black Abyss, plant one on my cheek...
Lightning split the dark in stepped leaders, blinding veins,
and the thunder didn't just boom - it hit,
a physical strike against the chest,
louder than anything the sky had ever produced before.
The clouds blew open,
dumping a wall of rain so dense and relentless
that looking out the window,
five feet away was just a blur of white noise.
Hard, heavy hail began to hammer the roof,
and the gales shifted,
gathering into a massive microburst
that slammed straight down from the clouds like a falling weight.
The house shuddered to its foundation.
Picture frames shook loose from the drywall, clattering down,
while in the kitchen, the counters vibrated violently.
Drinking glasses hummed and slid across the smooth granite,
chattering against one another
until one lost its footing,
plunging to the floor and exploding
into a thousand glittering shards across the tile.
And then, without warning, the storm held its breath.
A stillness settled over the room—
a quiet so sudden and heavy it felt like the eye of a hurricane,
tricking the heart into thinking the worst had passed.
But it was only a breath before the tail of the tempest struck,
returning with the raw, unbridled rage of an EF4 tornado,
tearing at the eaves and screaming through the dark.
For hours, I stayed crouched in that darkness, trembling,
fearing the walls might give, fearing for my life.
I prayed—not with rehearsed words,
but with a raw, desperate sincerity,
asking for the sky to spare us,
for the storm to pass without leaving ruin
or taking what mattered most.
Slowly, the violent pulse of the wind began to soften.
The madness that had overtaken the sky drifted away as fast as it had arrived,
leaving behind a vast, unmoving stillness.
The house stopped shaking, my chest unknotted,
and in that total, sacred silence,
I closed eyes and offered up a quiet prayer of thanks.
Why do I always get the news the day after?
Is somebody up above watching out for me?
I can almost hear what sounds a little like laughter
Every time I find out I escaped misery.
It all started when I was just a little boy,
When, one day, I wanted to go to Danny’s place.
The day after, I found out that his house was destroyed.
I was spared from the tornado by an angel of grace.
Then, in high school, after a basketball game,
I rode home with my brother instead of on the bus.
The day after, I found out the bus went up in flames.
My brother and I were lucky; it could have been us.
Then, one September morning, my meeting was cancelled,
So, I left my cell phone and went to the beach instead.
The day after, I found out the Towers had crumbled.
I should be among the three thousand that are dead.
On my side of the hemisphere, Old Man Winter begins in December
and meanders through the earth with cold, ice, and snow. With ice-
laced winds, he lashes against my skin, and no one calls it a sin.
He renders the soil under my feet hard as a rock against whom
my socks have no defense. That's why I like September. She
neither burns not freezes, but with a tender stroke, she pleases me.
Spring is mostly nice as she melts the ice along with her bursting force
with new life, resurrecting things long put to death by Winter's sword.
The sound of 'April' is a charm with the melodic tunes of a song that's
arresting and captivating. She's sometimes a teaser though, setting you
up for a windy ride. She may even swallow you in a flood or blow you
away in a tornado. But by and large, she serves the planet well. All the
same though, I like September who doesn't tease but pleases me well.
And oh, the joys of summer are endless. The wedding bells of June;
the show and tells of vacations to distant places. Some like it hot,
lying on their cots and bathing in the sun. Others like being soothed
by the cool beaches and back yard pools. But be warned of the pain
and rain from hurricanes. And be prepared to endure the smoke filled
skies from the heavy flames of wild fires. There's just no comparison
to Sweet September with her savory treats of tranquilities to remember.
I anticipate the golden trees just before they shed their autumn leaves.
September charms me with musical chimes on mild Autumn nights.
The choice is mine, and it's a happy time when September arrives.
091621PS
This simple tree...
Her branches a
Tree Clef staff for song
birds.
Her canopy a trapeze for these
squiggles, these squirrels.
This simple tree...
Her trunk a temple;
a spire to Heaven.
Her bark a canvas
for Northern moss.
This simple tree...
Her roots a roof
to burrowing beasts.
Her leaves a beetle's
green lunch munched.
This simple tree...
Her shade a cooling
respite for a
thousand forms.
This simple tree...
a welcome respite
for a thousand
flapping forms
from a thousand
Wint'ring grounds.
This simple tree...
whose vaulting arch,
itself a royal crown...
whose lyric swaying,
showing unseen winds...
whose quiet patience,
teaches eons, teaches time...
whose singular sangha
is a lone unalone story,
befriended and borrowed,
by all that live.
This simple tree...
husher of poets.
This simple tree.