Long Typhoons Poems

Long Typhoons Poems. Below are the most popular long Typhoons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Typhoons poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Liar Liar Pants On Fire

You can only get chicken pox once.
Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.
Not funny to me.
I have had chicken pox twice.
I have had a form of chicken pox called slap cheek.
I have had shingles twice.
so liar, liar, pants on fire.

I am exhausted.
This lastest bout has taken all of my energy.
I am a sad rag doll who can barely walk.
My thinking is not sound.
I am sad.
I have to know it cannot happen again.
Five times was more than enough.
It has undone me.

I am not sure I can ever be put back together again.
Cyclones. Bad.
Typhoons. Bad.
Hurricanes. Bad.
Shingles. Worse.
Four Saturdays of pure misery.
Summer vacation ruined.
You only get chicken pox once.
Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.
Not funny to me.
Not in the least.


Premium Member In the Absence of Complication

In the absence of complication,
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind

Why, had the circumstances been not so 
You would have listened to my frail voice
As it strives to step on life's pebbles
Merely to cross the river willed to us by God!

Pray, you would have yourself asked me
To recount to you of the many insights
That the skies bestow upon me,
Merely because your heart feels alive
Only when connected it is to the mysticism
That surrounds our bond!

More, you would have believed in me
Desiring me with the strength of an earthquake
Seeking solely to see my ocean bed flood
Ravaging lands and killing life
Merely to show to the rest of the cosmos
Of how moving me remains your sole duty!

Had there been not so many complications between us
You would have been the gorges
Ready to swallow my flooding waters
Merely to calm the unease that flows in me!

I remain mere woman
And in my gaze,
You remain my God,
Willed to me through the whispers of the skies
In the depths of the night!

Without you, the consciousness inhabiting me
Will turn into dust,
Easily blown off by gales and typhoons
While yours would roam around,
Hurt and angry at yourself
For having failed to believe that life on Earth
Could be imbibed with the sparks of the divine!

The complications are merely due to misunderstandings
And maybe to a bad timing,
Pray, simplify them:
Lower your swords, speak to me, listen to me,
Make of me your main concern,
Love me, forgive me and embrace me!

See the truth in my meaning
Understand that complications are merely ploys
Of the darkness surrounding us,
Seeking solely to foil God's plans!

My eyes seek to see their reflections in yours
When after whispering of my poetry to your soul
You shall lay, spent and worn
Wanting me to indulge in more of my art
Merely to please you!

In the absence of complication,
My hand would be yours to rule
My heart, yours to cherish
And my soul, yours to inspire!

In the absence of complication,
You would accept the position of God 
That I give to you,
Wanting to see me snarl at the rest of the world
But,
Becoming all servile and submissive to you!

Premium Member Rain's Innocent Guilt

Rain's Innocent Guilt
                   by Odin Roark

So simple
Creation's reflective miniscule
Gathering force at will
Sprinkling nourishment
Sharing its cleansing
Wanting only growth

Such is the mission
Of Nature's most immaculate
The raindrop
Carrier of so many purposes

Inculpable its essence
Being not of calamitous desire
Yet collected by forces undesired
Often Tropical disturbance
Or typhoons
Hurricanes

So faultless
Its guilt

While we admonish it presence
Water spotting our car washes
Spoiling our vacation weekends
Plummeting our gardens
We ignore its due respect

Perhaps...

Embracing the small creature-less life
Might enable this E. T. of Nature's family
Dreaming only of making our lives better
A supportive existence among
Its dedicated landscape

Still

We argue its overwhelming presence
Even as its ancestors of Arctic and Antarctic
Plead for genealogical respect

We continue to deny its nemesis
Man's natural self destruction
Trying to hide behind inept rationale
For some
So easy to deny
For all
Impossible to avoid
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Pacific Ocean

"How beautiful you are, so vast and deep; how vital to us all: Magellan’s Mar Pacífico, the 'Peaceful Sea,' so magical to me."  by poet 

         I was named for my peacefulness
though at times I batter shores with angry typhoons.
So large am I that I cover a third of the globe!
            No other ocean compares to me in
     volume or in number of islands and atolls
          whose various beaches I touch upon.
Thirty-thousand islands claim me as their waters,
    and my barrier reefs shield people from storms.

Encompassing vast regions north, south, east and west -
              such as my basin's volcanic “Ring of Fire”
and the Challenge Deep of my Mariana Trench,
        I am home to most of the world’s sea creatures,
             but please keep me clean. Protect me!
Your plastics accumulate in the “Garbage Patch”
   off San Francisco’s coast, extending to Japan.
Precious fish are dying from the mess humans make.

       Generally warm, I welcome you to my shores.
 Surf my waves, ride my currents, and explore my depths. 
      Just remember; without me and my sister seas,
           your vital ecosystems cannot be sustained.

The Opportunity Through the Passages of Time

On the sixth day of April typhoons churning and brewing came my way this year,
Winds of change came to my doorstep spitting and spewing fear.
They rocked me for some days as I walked my life’s calm beaten path,
Only God’s grace guided me patiently and safely through it’s wrath.

New lands ahead,
As ordained and said….
With mutant baggage of pain etched past well past behind me,
Doorways of yesterday shut on the threshold of a new dimension, the past never to see.

Always believed when you close the door behind you,
Will open plenty ahead of you anew…….
Now I reckon the only way is to move ahead,
Burning destiny’s dhows in troubled waters have now fled….


Now that I have a new cause to base my work upon,
Strange and quaint feelings I have no more to bear on…..
I now live my moments with fun and joy,
It is my heart mind and their creative power’s only for me to deploy….


Today spills over and tomorrow it comes and goes,
My mind its craving to innovate it only grows.
Cheer filled emotions now feverously churn within me
The peace and tranquility of my mind glows my face for all to see.

With this opportunity as high as the sky,
I will make the phenomenal change blue and azure high.
Smile and take my setbacks in my strides and walk the miles ahead,
Will rise and shine to sharpen myself in the new role with happiness embed……………

By: SASHI. PRABHU (ZEAUOXIAN)
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Multi-Tasking

Wearing wireless headphones as I listen to the news.
I'm outside watching children playing, taking in the views.
There is screaming in my ears two voices disagree.
A little girl serves her playmates imaginary tea.

They're speaking on the pod, unarmed victims shot by police.
Captives tortured in war. I hear our own. I hear their pleas!
There's screaming in my ear a few voices disagree.
Little girls sitting pretend to speak French saying Oui, Oui!

There are typhoons hitting an island, reminds me of a tsunami.
Also officials gathering parts of a plane shot down by an army.
What  happened to the plane that went missing, no one remembers.
Teenagers on the street play basketball great kids, great neighbors.

The president uses his pen, makes some politicians angry.
There is screaming in my ears so many voices disagree.
The girls skip rope, laughter fills the air and singing too.
 Pundits discuss, argue this and that it's what they do.
 Night and day is closer then these scholars and their degrees.
Theres screaming in my ear, voices, everyone disagrees.

The guys still shooting hoops, living the life, always polite.
Protests on the streets, the  police display their might.
Some back peaceful protests others speak accusingly.
There is screaming in my ears, crowds of voices disagree.

I wave goodbye to the boys, we'll talk, I'll see them again soon.
The children want me to skip rope I play along like a buffoon.
They laugh that I can't skip properly. I leave them to their play.
There's screaming in my ear, voices...might as well talk to clay

My sleep will be hard, in the morning the sun will shine, children will wake.
What kind of world will we leave, you smile and laugh but feel like a fake.
Look how well we have done. When did we stop being one, being mild.
What happened to being cohesive? It takes a village to raise a child.
There is too much screaming in my ears, too many voices disagree.
I can only pray, lend my voice to the calm, hope we can all agree.

11~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Contest Name: I CAN'T BREATHE: A peaceful Protest, An Anthology of Powerful Poems
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fathoms Deep

NOT WRITTEN FOR A CONTEST

I often write about the ocean's secrets,
of its crashing waves that roar in apogee
and the treasures it washes upon the shore.
I've verses founded on tales of sailor's lore.
Stanzas about fragile seashells and abalone
and of gulls noisily squawking in cacophony.

I've penned Sonnet filled with romantic notions
in which mermaids live in depths of oceans.
I wrote I'd found Atlantis beneath the waves,
and chests of gold and silver in a maze of caves.
I am always watching out for predatory sharks,
for in ocean waters, they are considered hierarchs.

I've claimed the sun cries when twilight is nigh.
When his day his done, he yawns his 'goodbye.'
I narrated epics of its tide, controlled by the moon,
and of sirens who lure men with a beguiling tune.
Poems tell of typhoons, caused by Neptune's hand,
and of shipwrecks, men and cargo strewn on sand.

The ocean beckons to me as I stand on the cliffs.
It speaks in the breakers. My thought often drifts
to how beautiful are the waters that God has made.
It covers most of Earth's surface with salty brine.
The magnitude of its power, I would dare not define.
Much is unknown about what lies beneath the deep
but all its secrets, it seems, the ocean intends to keep.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Tempest

The Tempest

Upon enchanted sands of shipbreached shores
Dethroned beggar of a borrowed callow mystery
Heaves a lightning staff into the waves -
Thunderous and raw clandestine secrecy
On luminous swirling ariels sheering the celestial –
Into the curfew of castaway souls as a hoary appeal
Where storm surges loot delirium in foreboding typhoons
As rioting angels brood in their search
For the orphaned heart in tattered rags of upheaval.

Hear the muted tempest of dark depths roar
As wintered tantrums rock the shores
Leasing waves with unseen spells and charms,
Harnessing the tidal astrals in purifying
Tsunamis of holy risk –
Storm watch night, for souls in cataclysmic squalls,
Reshape the shallow shoals infected by deceit
Refresh the tidal pools emptied by betrayal
Now calm the ruffled gales -the shattered glassy sea,
Return from shipwrecked isle to fury abandoned shores.

11/3/2020
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest

Premium Member Summer Memories From the Tree of Life

Summer season was  my childhood’s  greatest fun  time,
We played with toys out of a coconut tree which is a tree of life,
We  built  little houses beautifully and so high as we climbed
Like a flying trapeze  on its leaves,  we swung so high.

We played with toys made of coconut trees, the tree of life,
My playmates joined me in building  little houses using a dull knife,
Out of its leaves and midribs, we made walls, roofs and doors,
Pretended as good cooks with its coconut shells  and fruits.

My playmates joined  me in building little houses using a dull knife
Pretended  to live together as families with husband and wife,
I took the role of an elder sister in our little comfortable house
I combed the hair of a younger sibling with a coco midrib brush.

Pretended to live together as families with a husband and wife
Just like small neighborhood or community along the riverside
We chose one of the eldest playmates to be the group captain,
The leader of  unity and cooperation in building more tents.

Just like small neighborhood or community along the riverside
We helped one another as piles of coco leaves we made as rides,
We made unique toys out of leaves and roots as much as we could
Like trumpets when blown, we covered our ears for its loud sound.

We helped one another as piles of coco leaves we made as a ride
We webbed balls, insects and other toys for a surprise to hide,
When the captain signaled to show who's the most  had a reward
Then ran with our wind vanes to the beach and marched forward.

We webbed  balls, insects and other toys for a surprise to hide
We played with toys out of a coconut tree which is a tree of life,
When the captain signaled us to show  the most  had a reward
A wonderful  summer  memory  from a Tree of Life I've ever had!


Sept. 11,2012

Note: The coconut trees are considered the “Trees of Life”. They can provide almost all the things we need like shelter, clothing, foods and others. So, let us preserve coconut trees! They are very helpful but be careful because they are also  risky during typhoons, LOL.   There are many coconut trees in our backyard especially along the riverside connecting to the beach. These trees had added so much joy on summer time during my  childhood years/graders.
© Len Gasun  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Pantoum

Premium Member Seas of Deception

If tormented truth is 
   the taste of her fire,
injecting her blood 
   with poisoned rain 
   in golden chalices, 
what is the color of 
eclipsed spheres
where there’s a 
desolated darkness 
that dwells through 
devious spirits 
to rise higher? 
Maybe there’s no 
heaven nor hell in 
the onyx fields of 
soulless stars,
where obsidian roses
bloom as signs of 
the devil’s immortality,
crooning doomed 
hymns to the 
honeycomb hues 
of raven's irises,
which reflect every 
bitter dream painted 
in strokes of thunder. 
But when dusk 
bleeds seas of deception,
sins stream through 
sinister shadows, 
slowly pulling innocence 
to a chamber of pitiless 
pins and heinous knives.
So watch her ascend 
as the metaphorical mistress 
of death and beyond,
she is no longer your 
heretic queen 
that serves you light,
that once breathed 
and walked through 
storms of toxic typhoons 
cloaked in 
summer serenades,
taming every hurricane 
with her crystal wings
that never tethered 
to an evil king of serpents.

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