Funny Storm Poems | Examples
These Funny Storm poems are examples of Storm poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Storm Funny poems written by international poets.
When winds are rough,
And tear at hopes and dreams
When days are dark, and nights are tough,
And over-long, it seems
When bitter clouds collect above,
And ache and break and pour
We'll batten down the hatches,
Just like we did before.
You see, to me - we're made to last;
To wait, contented, warm;
To stand and know the past has passed.
For now, it's just a storm.
If you should fray, or fall apart,
In any where or when
We’ll always try, with all our heart,
To make you whole again.
But if you do fall behind,
And break and shake to bits
The day will come where you will find,
The pieces still all fit.
That's quite enough of strain and strife,
And painful days, astray.
This isn't at all funny, life.
Enough for now, okay?
Dancing in the rain in the UK
The water is pouring and pounding down
And I'm dancing no doubt looking insane,
But I can feel the rain's rhythm as it beats down,
As it rebounds off the ground again and again,
Each raindrop creates a ripple as it rebounds
Each raindrop has its own sound rain is not plain
It's nature's beat to invite you to move your feet
Let dancing to nature's beat wash away all your troubles
You might get wet wet wet having a blast skipping through puddles
Go dance in the rain if you live in the UK do it definitely,
We might as well try to enjoy the cards we've been delt unfortunately,
Because the rain rain doesn't go away in the UK
It's still here come mothers washing day
Thank god for tumble dryers for the 360 days where its raining it's pouring
The old man is snoring he went to bed and bumped his head and couldn't go to work in the morning because the rain was still bloody pouring.
A storm blew over, brightening
the town with fast, white, lightening.
Their weatherman was wrong
the “clear skies” were gone.
All in all, it was quite frightening.
It's funny the simple pleasures recounted in life
all manner of wonders reminisced I'll miss most..
though list grows shorter with each passing day
thoughts align in proper time as desires sway
storm bent trees, sunsets, a child's laughter,
and chicken salad on toast.
To be true others may find want of finer things.
fancying first class flight or latest in 'lectric cars,
refined tastes in Nanterre brioche or imported caviars
yet never replace good company a heart brings.
As winter closes, and spring finds its way home,
eternally grateful for all new pleasures won
give thanks warm day's return in rising and setting sun
yet alone, to bygone days my thoughts may roam.
Yeah, there'll always be chicken salad and sunsets..
perhaps a slice of keylime pie or two.
When I look back to a wonderful past,
what I'll miss most
is you.
BROKEN WINGS
I spread my wings
And feather
But I couldn't fly.
I open my ears
And heart
Yet I couldn't hear.
I open my mouth
And lips
But I couldn't talk.
I close my eyes
Alongside thine sunglasses
Yet I see.
I see my past
And fears
I take to the wood.
My obstacles,
Experiences I espy
I take my leave and the halt.
I'm eager to fly
Yet, my wings are broken.
More interesting the way you wrestle
never meaning hurt..
flirting.., with a skillfull mind
and matching tongue.
Twice as agile your swift feet, gleeful toes,
play like little lady fingers, jabbing,
bobbing and weaving in the morning sun.
What a change I witness when the gloves come off
colors raised in stormy impassioned eyes.
So many dimensions,
when you go hard..
even more uncovered..
when you go soft.
Light coral shaded lips,
paler still long neck, brimming in fire.
how the veins sing to me..
though quietly now,
grow insistent.
Getting close, like a creature
not used to light.
A waterfall effect lost
in finest peach hair fields, many
curves and valleys explored
in mosquito nets of night.
Endlessly curious to know,
what a fighter wants..
what a fighter needs,
in love.
Return now from the ropes to knock me off.
My eyes anxiously await a detente
when yours turn soft.
The sun illuminates where former smile,
a crimson sunset into the crypsis
fades. Optical illusion - boat upside-
down, sails sullied, the upheaval of grit.
My sight ebbs and flows, a buoy beholds
the odd. I grasp the folds of skittered skirt,
hang on tight, my fishing shock strength reeling.
My black and blue breath, a sturgeon gasping.
Funny how the ocean tides seem so calm…
The wicked wretch is two-faced, a liar.
I’d bask in her embryonic fluid —
she can roll you like a reptile, scar you
for life. Still like a siren, she calls me,
my hair drying from her sin, her music
beckons, shimmering waves prod, “C’mon in.”
I dare to turn my back on my island.
But a child’s palm nestles into my world,
my heart sinks in vertigo — I let go.
I begin to turn over hapless beach,
finding cockleshells with wet hands and feet.
I have been angry at the world these days
I think I have just been flustered at my own sins,
so much I have been storming on the earth.
I have been cursing at race for existing
been complaining at critics,
been cursing homophobia
been crying over body judging people.
I am full of anger, some of it is funny
I am angry at slow network,
at authors who killed my favorite character
at trees that don't have shades,
at the air fill bags of chips in my house,
at celebrities for not giving me a shout out,
at people who never liked me back.
just been angry,
that's the only feeling I can ignite and subside,
I can use diversity to calm down,
use positive criticism to relax,
use open minded people to sleep well
or just a comedy to laugh.
but I still choose to be angry,
to be storm and thunder, '
because if I stop being angry,
I'll just be rain
and I have no control over that.
"the fighting act is the final act"
Buzz Lightyear under the elephant.
the bear on an air mattress.
Gould locked in a rectangular box.
the young man behind the old man.
what they try to kill.
those addicted to the crowd will
die in the crowd.
those addicted to the dollar will
accuse many of stealing.
keep typing.
time will pass and those
that hide behind their addiction
to attention, will fade into a box
full of Robin drops.
rising to the top is a choice.
love the question and it’s life
giving purpose.
I’ll never be in Wrigley field
but I can live dying in L.A.
By: Chicano Eddie
7.29.18
Benjamin Franklin, to prove lightning held electricity,
Flew a kite in a storm; attached to the kite cord was a key.
Though some thought this dangerous experiment was a bit odd,
Franklin sparked more inquiries and invented the lightning rod!
1/25/19
Funny when the marionette turns the table on the puppeteer
Pull the kite down or release the string so the turbulent wind takes it?
When one line is not enough Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Date written and posted: 06/02/2018
sit and listen to the quiet
it's outside the christmas norm
because now, when all is silent
it's the calm before the storm
the kids are upstairs sleeping
you're resting, sitting with a drink
in a few hours ...storms a brewing
it'll push you to the brink
the kids are up and yelling
paper wrapping all around
until the house is empty
no more rest today is found
the kids are outside playing
hockey games out on the drive
you just look around and wonder
if the day you will survive
next, arrive the in-laws
re-gifting what you gave last year
and good old uncle charlie
bee-lining for the beer
bad jokes and boring stories
arguements about the past
snide comments and back handers
how long will this all last
you sneak outside for a quick drink
grab a smoke on the back porch
if it wasn't your house they were in
the whole damn thing you'd torch
phony smiles and airy kisses
and the folks are on their way
the storm is almost over
for another Christmas Day
the kids are in and up in bed
there is silence once again
the calm once more before the storm
tomorrow, your folks come at ten!!!!
Would you make my phone ring?
Would desire retake the wild that perspires as the legend is written yet the time goes unnaffected?
Babe the world gets no smaller,
I am the right caller,
no-one could say a thing
like the lights growing in stalling words,
we will gather for our area's that we expedite,
and will mighty-kite none-for-less when our strife scars at the right heights, tights, and whites, even fights!
We will always resign because more and more is what's needed,
every time!
OLD MAN WINTER
DONE DID IT AGAIN
WHEN I GET HOME
I'LL NEED A TONIC AND GIN
RAIN, HARD RAIN
KEEPS COMING DOWN
GIGANTIC PUDDLES
COVER THE GROUND
MY FEET ARE COLD
THEIR SOAK TO THE BONE
I STILL HAVE 2 MILES
BEFORE I REACH HOME
MY UMBRELLA GOT TWISTED
THEN BLEW AWAY
NOW I HAVE NONE
THE REST OF THE WAY
THE FASTER I RUN
THE WETTER I GET
PLEASE DON'T LOOK NOW
MY HAIRDO'S A WRECK
MY COAT IS 10 POUNDS
MY POCKETS HAVE POOLS
EVERYONE'S RUNNING
AND WE ALL LOOK LIKE FOOLS
NOW WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT
THE HAIL STARTED DOWN
I WAS SLIPPING AND SLIDING
THEN HIT THE GROUND
I KNOW I CAN MAKE IT
I'M SO CLOSE TO HOME
TOTALLY SOAKED
AND CHILLED TO THE BONE
OLD MAN WINTER
LOVES TO PLAY GAMES
AND IF YOU LET HIM
HE'LL DRIVE YOU INSANE
I FINALLY MADE IT
HOME AT LAST
HERE I SHALL STAY
TILL THIS WINTER STORM'S PASSED
Dark clouds,
The bang of thunder.
Man, I wonder,
What monster rises from the horizon
With a wild and windy winter chill.
Must be a storm,
Zeus coming in for the kill.
Throwing bolts of lightning
like serial killers throw knifes,
It’s intention to end lives.
It’s bolts boiling brains
With the heat of summer.
Making me go insane
“I want it’s power”.
The evil in it’s eyes,
The smile on it’s face,
Guilt there wasn’t a trace.
Villagers, piss pants and run
From a thing more ruthless than Attila the Hun.
It must have been funny,
It was hunting season
And we were the bunnies.