Long Violent storm Poems
Long Violent storm Poems. Below are the most popular long Violent storm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violent storm poems by poem length and keyword.
Craziest Time in Amphan
Forecast of cyclone Amphan alarmed us.
Doors-windows all closed oblivious.
Yet could not apprehend severity
ending in calamity.
Appeared roaring Amphan in devastating form.
Vigorous rigorous violent storm.
With tremendous thrust tempest outburst.
Cyclone blown touching two hundred kilometres speed per hour.
Simultaneous terrible heavy showers
Crowd of clouds too dense compact without any gap
Not allowing frictions perhaps
under high wind pressure to surrender
but to pour rains in opulence
threatening ambience.
No lightning flash or thunder
Outrageous uproar of cyclone in high pitch
on intermittent sonorous twitch.
Tall trees, huge massive ones encircling my premise
swinging, swaying, spinning, thrashing on one another.
Thick wooden framed glass doors of my house trembling.
Push of strong storm forced rain waters to flood my floor.
Ankle deep water collected surrounding sofa set.
Electricity was off.
We had candlelight dinner on compulsion,
not romantic but traumatic.
At midnight, all quiet on domestic front.
Yet we did not dare to open windows at night
At dawn, no storm, no rain, calm tranquil after disaster.
Most big trees are damaged, either have fallen or lost boughs, branches.
Tallest tree at gate lying slant hitting my balcony at corner, being uprooted.
One can walk on the big trunk to reach balcony at first floor.
Traffic signal Poles and lamp posts all broken.
TV not functioning, Mobile not working,
Telephone wire torn Internet gone.
Social distancing attained highest score.
Complete confinement settled us indoor.
08/16/20
Word Count 238
Third Place
' Craziest Time ' Contest by Caren krutsinger
' After The Hurricane' Contest by craig cornish
Hiding behind a mysterious facade
As they wrongly charge me with
blatant estimations of who I am.
Drowning in scorched tears,
not sure about this voiceless
and veiled existence.
Feeling displaced as they examine my
New York inflection, while the obtrusive
glaring results in false postulations.
Every encounter, never able to combat
their fallacious beliefs as the scorn is
poured over me.
They’ve always been adjudicators during
my trials and tribulations instead of
enacting the simplest act of kindness.
Slightest glimmers of decency quickly
Turn into dismal darkness as I’m
smeared with assumptions.
If I were not an abused child, my
mistakes would’ve been negligible
thereby ceasing the incessant torment.
Still and soundless while I disappear,
Into nothingness concealing and burying
my most heartfelt thoughts.
While my dignity is attacked, there’s no
way out, so I stay masked and muted.
Any aspirations are abolished.
When it was clear I had it together
rushing to and from jobs and schools
their knives of ridicule remained sharp.
Though I have night terrors from the
degradation and disgrace of their actions,
I pushed forward contrary to expectations!
When dressing in costume at Comic Cons,
I feel joy, escapism, and freedom
while disappearing as someone else.
As I speak about my writing, this angers
them but I’ll continue to record these
intrinsic feelings of humility.
That woman said, “Why are you hiding your
warmth and compassion?” I answered,
“When I showed it they destroyed me.”
I consider my silence more powerful
than any words, I could ever say,
but, who will try to understand?
I continue screaming inside, “I’m so
much more than that!” though,
it’s inconceivable to them!
Please accept my decision, to stay hidden
protecting myself, so I don’t suffocate
on the fumes of the lies.
Have mercy on me, O God, as I look to You
For protection, hiding beneath the shadow
of Your wings until this violent storm is over.
As, always, I remain hidden,
Diane Perna
Settled in the sighs, like a still cool
Who remembers, at the end of September’s
Final thoughts…
Raging, wild as the wind, rain in furious drenching,
Pouring over the mountains, the trees bent
The stillness of Appalachia, warring with the violent storm,
One who leaves more devastation across its path
Than any photo, any description, any poet can explain…
Echoes of the roaring, pouring out waters of grief,
While the blessings – for a moment, quieted by the sinking feeling,
Hearts mourning the memories of clear, soft songs,
Praising, amazing, awakening the soul to the gentle of a creek,
The soothing of a river’s hesitant beat, rhythms of hope
Erasing the night’s heavy breath, praying for the serenity, the calm
Beyond the storm, breaking through the downpour…
Hastening to remember, just as we were ending September,
There came a storm, more furious, more powerful, than we had ever known…
This storm, most like a war, shattering dreams, feelings, streams,
Rivers, released from their banks, dark and forbidding,
Glistening with trembling, hostile, the enemy of tranquility,
Friend of the adversary… but then, I remember, even the wind,
Rains, storms that seem more powerful than anything I’ve ever known…
These, even these, aren’t as powerful as the One
Who provides the peace, restores the faith,
Stirs hearts to believe in the amazing grace,
Promises souls to speak to the winds, the seas…
Breath peace, gentle and sweet, through the storms that grieve
Even me, with their unending disquiet, their unrest,
Their dark foreboding, the rumbling of a distant thunder,
The fears, despairing, drenching the wonder…
His voice returns to me, some sense of security,
As I remember, the end of September…
Mark 4:39 And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
The emotion of your call came over me and I can't stay impassible
this silent keyboard which I can get wonderful sound
my fingers are moving, and can not resist petting and be sensible
the first notes escape and fly in dark night aground
The night is conducive to desire and fantasy
each note one by one is delicately balanced
stronger than a caprice, in pleasure I slip easily
Soft music flies to a new space, light and spiced
I feel within me with every movement of my hands
as a violent storm, strong and melodious
this wave through me and takes me far away to the end
in a world of accents lyrical and harmonious
The strength of a desire expressed beyond the mountains and seas
the inevitable need to create and to leave in the joy of playing
I lose myself In a divine and solitary ecstasy which it releases
under the sweet stare of the silvery moon smiling
-----------------------------------
L'émotion de ton appel m'envahit et je ne peux rester insensible
sur ce clavier muet d'où peuvent sortir de belles sonorités
mes doigts glissent, commencent à le caresser, en gestes paisibles
les premières notes s'échappent et s'envolent avec célérité
La nuit est propice aux fantasmes et aux désirs
avec délicatesse chaque note est harmonieuse
plus fort qu'un caprice, je me laisse aller au plaisir
une musique douce vole vers une autre dimension gracieuse
Je sens en moi à chaque mouvement de mes mains
comme une violente bourrasque aux accords mélodieux
cette onde qui me traverse et qui m'emporte très loin
dans un monde aux accents lyriques harmonieux
La force d'un désir exprimé au delà des montagnes et des mers
le besoin inévitable de se livrer à la joie de jouer
libère mon extase divine et solitaire dans laquelle je me perds
sous le regard doux et bienveillant de la lune argentée.
The trees ache with a pain only those who have witnessed true horror
The swinging rope moping for it had been turned to a killer
The threads unravelling trying to escape
A maze with no end
Running, running, running Away
Yet still can't escape its fate
A fallen leaf a tear of the tree
Weeping for a life no more
Haunted by the thought of how many more
Will face a death so brutal
The branches snap screaming in pain
Wishing to not be a ploy in their game
The blood Soaked roots
Will grow into a plant who will wear their name
The sun has hidden things will never be the same
A life lost is a star gained
The world grieves with drops of rain
Trying to control a harrowing pain
The buildings still paying respects
Dressed in a layer of a grief so known
For centuries it stood a witness to a tragedy all alone
The broken windows shattered by the screams it spoke
Choked by the air which had lost all hope
What must become of a body disposed
More blood than man
The red that shows
Maybe good can come evil where flowers may grow
Maybe the sky will gift a rainbow
To bring hope for another tomorrow
What becomes of body now gone
What happens to a family who couldn't mourn
A death that brought about violent storm
The earth has quietened
The streets forlorn
Watching another black families heart be torn
The end of a funeral left to a house rid of warmth
The world haunted by the joy long gone
What becomes of a world without the lights on
What becomes of a world that houses an atmosphere so cold
What becomes of a world where the that barely holds on
Slowly crumbling its foundations
The structure that holds everything up
Has now been torn down
What becomes of a world that let's black people down
It becomes a place where joy becomes a ghost town
There is a need for footprints on the sea.
The sea, prepared for shalom break, not yet.
Sodden, the boat's high walls extend. The lee,
The Life’s on way, two feet, the time is set.
Jesus, the Creator, did water splash,
as deep, you walked, toward the disciples’ tears?
Pelted by raindrop score, the storm cloud’s lash.
You arrived, just in time, to still their fears.
In rocking boat, one other day, You slept.
The calm and peace, the grace of Christ, bestowed.
Inner and outer strength - with crowd You wept,
Between life and resurrection, line towed.
Authority of God - imparts His will.
Christ speaks to waves and storms, and us, “Be Still.”
Immediately he (Jesus) made the disciples get into the boat and go ahead of him to the other side…Meanwhile the boat was already some distance from land, battered by the waves…Jesus came toward them walking on the sea…When they (Jesus and Peter) got into the boat the wind ceased…(They) worshipped him and said, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
—Matthew 14:22, 24, 25, 32
Suddenly a violent storm arose on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves—but Jesus kept sleeping…”Lord, save us! We’re going to die!”…He (Jesus) got up and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm
—Matthew 8:24, 25, 26
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days…Jesus wept…(Jesus spoke to Father God) After he said this he shouted with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out (they unwrapped him)
—John:17, 35, 43
Jesus told him (Thomas), “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will also know my Father. From now on you do know him and have seen him.
—John 14:6-7
In mania, the body unbinds itself.
The skeleton’s dense marrow becomes hollow,
an avian adjustment. It is accelerated evolution.
Fluttering and floating in a slew of thoughts
like nervous wind chime chatter.
My brother blew in through the rattling gate
accompanied by October’s cruelest gale.
Eyes unwillingly wide, levered by a crowbar
his hazel doorways ripped from their hinges.
He ran fervently through the streets of West Chester
with lungs coated with cannabis and amphetamines
until there was blood beneath his toenails, dripping out
just like Jesus’ wine weeping out from his searing limbs.
As he entered into the home of our distant childhood,
his back burned from the warm wrath of penitent leather
the self-flagellation, the begging for the flames of Purgatory
To appease the eyes of a looming Lord
his fate-sealing gaze hidden in twilight’s comforting veil
He says he holds a guilt beyond human comprehension,
that he is an evil person. I tell him we are just flawed people.
After a decade of intentful detachment, my brother cracks open
his ribcage as it blooms like a flower from his sternum.
He says there is a sickness in his soul, and that I will
never truly know him.
My mother and father have had heads made of granite
since he has come home. There are heavy eyes shadowed with
bags made of storm clouds. They have prayed with their
clergy. They have contacted multiple attorneys.
My sibling is a storm that has wrought ruin, but
he can heal. His violent storm might sow a beautiful season
The warmth of his first real smile will bring upon renaissance,
and as the tears and snot seep into the soil of my shoulder
our cheeks may grow a vibrant emerald moss.
There is peace at the end of every war,
Just like warmth following after winter
There is renewal washing up to shore,
And sweet always accompanies bitter
Bitter. What’s more bitter than emotion?
Perhaps when the sun starts to set,
All because our planet is in motion?
And each day we’ll eventually forget,
As age creeps up on us like the ocean
Ocean. How can it wave from so far?
Its waters retreating and then it’s gone,
Falling faster than you can spot a car
And glistening with every crack of dawn,
Or shining bright, reflecting a single star
Stars. Why do we choose to wish on one?
Deceased with every new day it seems,
The moon retired and work has just begun
Yet in the day we don’t shout our dreams,
Though stars are just blinded by the sun
Sun. Why is the sun’s role to start our days?
What makes it different from any other?
Every star watches over March to May
All through the rain and vibrant summer,
Even through the foggy clouds and haze
Haze. How can we see through its forms?
Obscuring views like television static,
Or a written piece of paper that’s torn
You can observe its behaving climatic,
As it’s often followed by a violent storm
Storms. What can withstand its release?
If anyone alone can live through its touch,
It would be time, passing to promise peace
Once the storm fades and loosens its clutch
Like lightning when it chooses to strike seas
Seas. Elegant and flowing without an identity.
Leading us with currents, back to tomorrow
Hope burying longing in our future’s destiny
Masking all hints and traces of elegant sorrow,
Sorrow that follows after peaceful serenity
Written: July 28, 2021
There are choices I've made that no longer speak, but scream within me,
Like winds lost in a violent storm, stirring my silent soul,
I cannot return to them, cannot mend them, but they pass over me,
Like cold shadows slipping across warm skin, leaving sensations of untamed longing.
I regret them in ways for which I have no words, like a sailor who stepped into the sea,
Thinking calm shores mean safe waters, believing he understands the depths,
Until they swallowed him whole, letting him know unknown abysses,
And now I know what it means to drown slowly, not in water, but in silence, in memories that won't let go.
The shore is still there, I can see it, so close it hurts, but I cannot reach it,
Every arm I extend pulls me deeper, every breath I try to steal
Feels borrowed, as if it doesn't belong to me, an ephemeral gift in a secret world,
Now I float somewhere in between, the past beneath me, the shore ahead, but neither close enough
To hold or release the regret that binds me, to dissolve that deep pain,
Like an old song that never stops echoing, a melody of losses and desires,
In this ocean of silence and dreaming, I find myself trapped, between two worlds, without anchor,
Learning to float, to breathe in the space between, to accept that regrets are waves,
And to find in them a silent poetry, a dance of shadows and light,
To let myself be carried, to stop fighting, to become one with the sea of memories,
For perhaps, in this drifting, I will find peace, an answer,
A way to transform the wind's scream into song, and regret into poetry.
I have received an obscene comment
from a sick, slandering mouth on this poetry site,
calling me a filthy monkey with intense anger;
and is this person a human being or beast?
And how would I address this demon: sir or
madam? I use no discretion when dealing with fools,
and let them hear and feel the deep tone
of my thundering voice, bringing on a violent storm...
o idiot, approached by the Devil to manipulate such a worthless soul
You've picked your target, lashing at us with uncontrolled madness,
is your behavior, so bizarre and extremely rude, to embarass,
to harass and harm us? Be warned, it is to no avail...
the fairest reward for your obscenities is Hell!
You are messing with the creative minds of modest folks,
willing and ready to fight back and triumph over your wickedness!
Has Satan and his Fallen Angels ever conquered Heaven?
Will you, with your envy and vengeful words ever defeat us?
We are honorable, unfeigned, dignified and loved for our sharedl kindness,
and that makes us extraordinary beings among the unintelligent criminals,
who mortify, demoralize, threat, abuse, and kill the very essence of morality;
we excel in our unique and remarkable ideas that make many tremble,
and you will tremble at the appearance of the Archaengel of Vengeance!
Our spirit will not be demeaned by your constant and horrible curses,
we are united in this fight, not to let you seal our mouths with silence!
Was Brutus or Hamlet a human being or beast? Do you see a disparity?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci