Tornados Poems | Examples

Nothingness

It wasn't bad
it wasn't good
it represented everything
I feared so much before...
that unattainable grace
tornados of stone
a bad written story
with a desolating end.

It wasn't bad
It wasn't good 
it was like a fable
that repeat itself
in different places
in different times
with different faces
like unleashed madness.

It wasn't bad
it wasn't good
it was what it was
either I like it or not
unbearable silence
under wet sheets at night
I don't think many understand
what a space full of nothingness is.

And I could go on and on
repeating myself
like those endless novels
where everyone dies
then comes a new day
with knew pop stars
singing meaningless songs
acting without knowing their lines.

Jessica

Tinge Terrific

Tinge, thy colors terrific.
Weather wave, point where?
Heaven and Hell, this may stick!
Brick upon the bare.

Red the rampant real? Rind? Rhyme.
Tornados in time.
Wind above the city, chime.
Tequila, thy lime.

Yak upon the mountain;
Which way doth trouble lurk?
Rubbish, fill the garbage bin!
If you work, you shirk!

Psyche, soul tormented;
This place sure stinks of doom!
Lyre of love lamented!
O curse on pharaoh's tomb...

Bloom upon the tamarind?
Reality grinned.
Sin, thy light the whole world pinned!
Challengers a-chinned...

Roll that boulder, vagrant king!
Silver is thy sting!
Drenched upon but undying!
Rail about the ring!

Levels sinking in the pool?
Silent lies the spool.
O young people, keep it cool?
Flayed dismayed, fair fool...

Ghoul, thy magic terrible;
Golem, shall we ride?
Room within the brazen bull?
Bailiff, how you tried...

My Twin Passed

In the years, I’ve walked this earth,
Half spent in service, a self-testament to worth.
Through war and peace, I stood my ground,
After combat tours, where courage was found.
Family tragedies left scars so deep,
Murders that haunted my nights without sleep.
Conditioned to march through conflict no matter the haze.
Immune to the impact, I find the warmth of a familiar place.
When Tornados swept through, tearing apart my dreams,
 I always heal from own quiet streams.
Oh Angela, this month has been the hardest to bear,
Smothering, choking, and gasping for air.
I miss you so deeply; it’s a wound that won’t heal.
Like losing my breath in an ocean so wide,
I struggle to breathe with this pain deep inside.
I fight to contain all these feelings I hold,
Yet thoughts of Shane and your babies unfold.
Never once did twins need words to convey,
The bond that we shared in our own special way.
Now there’s a void in my spirit so vast,
A painful chasm unfilled by memories past.

Weather Girl

Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind.

She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.

The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.

Through a plasma screen
the attractive lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb
and transfix.

I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that the weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.

Climate Change Renga

Climate Chang Renga Poem 

climate is changing 
bad weather is everywhere 
California burns 

hurricanes howling 
tornados  and winter storms 

climate deniers
saying it is all a hoax
monster storms abound 

nature does not care at all 
  the climate deniers lie

A Very English Poem

The daffodils are never flattened by tornados,
the little lambs always enjoy a pleasant Spring,
and oft they giddily gambol.
The sun is not too warm nor cool,
the sky steadfastly blue.

Wordsworth took a walk
and wrote yet another pleasing poem
regarding the green grass and
softly rolling emerald hills -
no mention of rainstorms
or hurricanes.

In America, we read
of such pleasant,
pastoral perfections,
but most,
sensibly,
refuse to believe them.

Jym Ganahl He Knows It All

I love the snow and beautiful blue skies,
gentle rain and thunderstorms,
winds that blow the fall leaves,
leaving a gold carpet up to my knees.

I don't like duratio winds,
or tornados that suddenly blow in,
earthquakes that take down walls,
or warm fronts that stall.

When flood warnings are posted,
I always wish I had a boat,
the threats are real,
I really hope I float.

Mud slides are wild,
I'm glad that in Ohio,
they aren't that common,
but I loved making mud pies as a child.

Ice storms leave a beautiful scene,
the icicles hanging like daggers,
salt trucks are loaded just in case,
getting it all organized is a race.

A beautiful blue moon,
that we see above,
all the things we've learned,
everyday at noon.

The weather man that taught us all,  
no matter the conditions,
the one accurate reporter,
his name is Jym Ganahl.

My favorite lore of his,
after the first forsythia blooms,
there will be three more snow falls,
an intelligent man to know all this.

I hope he enjoys his retirement,
for many years to come,
we will often think of him, 
when we can't find the sun.

Inside stirm

Rumbling flows inside my very essence. 
Storms on the inside, mimicking tornados on the outside.
Feelings of despair flooding out the hope that is in my heart.
Pain leaving darkened footsteps behind. 


Contest:Glen Hughes Poetry Contest
Sponser: Robert James Liguori

The Complexus of Nexus

Are butterfly wing movements in Brazil the nexus
That creates our terrible tornados in Texas?
Though we may not understand the how and the why,
We should remember our words can make children cry.
Before broadcasting our gossip far across fences,
Shouldn’t we first consider its consequences?
A man may not know a woman’s complexus
Until casual banter with her bodes sexist.

Weather Girl

Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind

She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.

The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.

Through a plasma screen
the buxom lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
meanwhile elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb 
while they transfix.

I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.

Winter

Winter may give you a gentle white Christmas.
So, enjoy her gifts for as long as they last.

You may for a while be charmed by her silence.
Don't be, because dangers may be lurking in the distance.

She can pounce on you with floods, winds, and snow.
Or, she may freeze your power lines, creating winter wow.

She captures you with her gorgeous sunrises and breathtaking sunsets.
She is both a beauty and a beast, often driving you into your safety net.

Gone are the fires, hurricanes, and roses; leaving rose bushes with thorns.
Western floods; Midwest freezes; Southern tornados; Eastern snow storms.

Some years she will bring us an extra day in February, like a magic giver.
But whether Ground Hogs see shadows is no concern of Old Man Winter.

DIVORCE

Dwelling in twisted tulips of fate, 
I'm etching life's blackened stars beneath
Vehement veil of thunderstruck twilight, for, 
Obsidian tornados have crushed affectionate shorelines. 
Remorseful roses now unfurl like love's last perfume and
Crestfallen silence nestles in eclipsed eden, sighing at the
End of our poetic lifelines - lost within timeless agony.

Seek Shelter

Seek shelter if you want to live,
when a tornado touches down.
Swirling, spinning winds launch debris
that's strewn through the air like shrapnel.

When whirling winds out-roar a train,
seek shelter if you want to live.
Spiraling down from pitch-black clouds
an ebony scythe cuts a track.

Every building is torn apart
and flattened beyond description.
Seek shelter if you want to live;
Mother Nature doesn't know mercy.

Storms are beyond mortal control,
and tornados are proof of that.
Upon that realization,
seek shelter if you want to live.

The Elementals

Personification of the Elements – 9-1-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Elementals

Frigid currents gather stirring
Mists to rain hail in fists of fire and ice
From fractured magma stone eruptions
Crust and fire collide
In melted tornados 
In hollows where minerals hitchhike 
Into purple ruby hazes
Igneous bursts into fevered conundrums
Where four elementals convene
In cryptic crystals, intoxicated by emerald,
Fused laughing enigmas,
Shedding molten aqua teardrops,
Where fire and fury reside
Imprisoned in liquid stone,
Sparkling matrix thunders,
Compressed grit in animations
Of clear-cut brilliance 
The Elementals speak
In captured eternal flames, 
Water, stone and breath.

Joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart

As whirlwinds in the musicscape that blow so wild,
The duo sang, played guitar, and albums compiled;
Both rocked like vigorous rocks in a rough earthquake,
Their unbreakable records they only did break...!

Played and sang at their very tender childhood age,
Like tornados they shook many a music stage;
Joseph Bonamassa, at only twelve, did plan,
Smokin' Joe Bonamassa - his band he began...!

As though birds of a feather flocking together,
J.L Bonamassa and Beth Hart flew higher;
Like poppies blossomed forth "Don't Explain", and "Seesaw",
The works of the duo made one and all feel awe...! 

His works, "Blue Deluxe", "Driving Towards The Day Light",
"Rhymes", and "Fire On The Floor" are like sunlight, bright;
Adorn the altars of Harmonious music,
Cure the physically and psychically sick...!!!


14 May 2023 
Joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori

• Short Tornados Poems
• Famous Tornados Poems
• Best Tornados Poems
• Read Tornados Poems
• Long Tornados Poems
• Tornados Quotes