Typhoons
Cyclones
All storms
Rage forms
Flash floods
So bad
Glaciers
Melt there
Earthquake
Great shake
Wild fire
Entire
Schooling
Shooting
Oil price
Costs rise
Conflicts
So thick
World news
Sad views
So many cloudy days
Moments where the sun beat down hot
Typhoons, hurricanes, tornadoes
Reminding us of what we ain't got
Sitting on a wooden bench
With a gentle breeze writing out hope
Feet in the creek without a care
Nibbling on the sweetest cantaloupe
The phone rings with unexpected news
Shattering the heart into a thousand pieces
Grieving all the losses of blunted connection
Trying to bargain with god through many fleeces
An act of kindness when depression rules
Takes the soul to the end of denying self
Listening ears open and expand
To take identity off the safe little shelf
Finally, LOVE has come and enveloped
The wondering mind into eternal flow
The refreshing water of connection
Has yielded to wherever spirit wants to go
...pulling up roots, and blowing kisses
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-29-2026
On the seashore, stretching endless,
There stands a lighthouse, a beacon of light.
Staying alone, it faces the roaring waves,
Guiding lost sailors and ships aright.
It often watches thundering breakers
It doesn’t command them to be still
Nor chase the brewing storms away
But sheds light poised on a rocky hill.
How many stories a lighthouse has to recount!
Stories of havoc, plunder and shipwreck,
Tales of escape from the fury of typhoons,
Of love and romance enacted on the deck.
Each lighthouse holds a mystical allure.
Broader at its base and narrower on its face,
It has a cylindrical and tapering shape
And stands as a sentinel with a piercing gaze.
In each one, there’s a lighthouse shining within
It guards us from all storms brewing inside
Shedding light along life’s murky tracks,
Leading us to coveted destinations like a guide.
So It Does
Gently tickling the tree tops as the giggling leaves frolic and play in the sultry summer sun.
Caressing and cooling the skin, it's fingers run freely through loose lavish locks like no lover can.
Nary a notice when blasting the blades made to siphon it's strength, spinning, working, it solders on consistent, strong, always unrestrained.
Billowing the buxom sails urging ever onward into the unknown daring adventures to be had.
Whispery kisses to majestic mountains takes tiny fractured flecks in time making jagged crests and regal peaks wither in it's wake
Fine desert sand, it's dunes Slithered slowly like waves across the wilderness, suddenly, voraciously with great velocity enveloping the sky, stripping flesh from bone.
Compelling the atmosphere downward thrashing twisting demanding the earth to surrender whatever it desires.
A soaring galactic vortex spun up from the oceans bowels stalking it's victims, dumping it's deadly deluge with ferocity and force.
Shifting sands and powered mills,
dancing leaves and withered hills,
Typhoons swirl and twisters spin
friend or foe, I give you the wind.
In the distant islands of the sea,
the big crocodiles are very happy;
They swim in the flood of corruption,
as strong typhoons drown the nation.
In the far east where injustice prevails,
one dream of prosperity just fails;
The nature points its finger of ire
to the vultures with evil desire.
Bridges fall having no heavy load,
earthquakes shatter each and every road;
Exposing the unseen ghost project
and shoddy flood control that can’t protect.
Divisiveness creates doubt and fear,
investors want to disappear;
Economy is in the brink of fall,
threatening not to rise at all.
Poor people suffer, they cannot find
transparency and peace of mind;
Genuine justice is nowhere in view,
accountability fades into the blue.
But there’s still hope glimmering ahead,
to calm the heart before going to bed;
Crying in the wilderness is the voice
of truth that makes mankind rejoice!
"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.
Reincarnated in my next life,
a meteorologist I want to be
with scientific paraphernalia at hand
and land the weatherman's job on TV.
Where I can lie without restraint,
never apologise for rain and cloudy skies, or for
what it is when it ain't sunny with a bright sunrise
which is what I promised the night before.
I can be completely wrong more times than not
and still be paid every day,
as whatever it is I said is soon forgot.
And I can (fox)trot out predictions
such as, 'Snow snow thick thick snow
or, there'll be weather wherever you go
and the winds may or, then again, may not blow.'
Tsusamis, tornadoes and typhoons worry me not one bit,
I laugh in the face of hurricanes
as I'm not the one who will be hit.
I don't hide from deluge, downpour, torrent, flood
which could precipitate a landslide,
they're one and the same to me
as I'll be nowhere near when I'm here safe and dry inside.
in soddening tempest
and billowing gale
i stand and plead with God
for drought
feet rooted in scuttling sand
wind-swept grains thrash at my face
i stand and plead with God
for typhoons
one day i wake up
keeled over in shallow puddles
brought to a boil
by a horizon's line of sun
a flower sprouts by my open palms
and i ask God
for seeds
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.
Rancour is a canker
That eats us from within
Bitterness and anger*
Are sure to cause chagrin
Malice is a chalice
From which we should not drink
It will turn us callous
With hearts tuned out of sync
Hanker not for rancour
Let love rule our mind tunes
Forgiveness, the anchor
In life's wildest typhoons
Hope is the strongest rope
Sure and steadfast anchor**
In dark sin, need not grope
Rid our soul of rancour
Jesus Christ sure frees us
From rancour's canker clutch
Tenderly, He sees us
And heals us with blood touch
*Ephesians 4:31-32
[31]Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice:
[32]And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.
**Hebrews 6:19-20
[19]Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil;
[20]Whither the forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus, made an high priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec.
Typhoons, cyclones and hurricanes
Alternate male and female names
Derechos included too
Winds that make us feel blue
Serious and deadly, playing no games.
The rain before the industrial revolution, was part of the cycle, to maintain balance in nature. Now, it’s part of a frantic effort to dilute, and remove pollution, no longer able to find lost plants and trees. It now falls with increased frequency,without purpose on concrete and asphalt, barren rainforest lands, stripped to grow cash crops, to satisfy junkies fixes. One can only hope, psychedelic mushrooms, in vogue by the trend setting actors of La La land, replace poppies, and hemp, taking up less land. The oxygen engine, of the earth, can be restored to full capacity, by replacing trees once lost,without a second thought. Reforestation hopefully becoming an accepted priority, funded in addition to defense budgets, and pork. Then Mother Nature could chill, low and high pressure systems again producing needed rain, not the damage left in the wake of tornadoes, microbursts,hurricanes, and typhoons. The time to heal the earth, can’t be infinite. Like the lifespan of all who walk, it has a beginning and an end, if signs are continued to be ignored, and our greatest resources, lives and dollars, stay focused and remain on winning and justifying war.
Fear leashes unforeseen harpoons
when faith flees to the hold.
Wind gauges possible typhoons,
purser murmurs threefold...
fractures in the bulkhead
sailors stymied by dread
damage and death ahead
Fear leashes anxiety;
Faith can anchor urgency.
October 21, 2021
The middle three lines are a leash, a set of three
Right
where the road ends
rests a house
there is Rosa, sunrosed,
is love, trust, life
A coffee in the morning
right before marching the roadworks
scooting the schoolbus
right like the hands of the clock.
Right
where the road ends
stays a mill
here my dogs, suninked,
flowers, poems, life
A lot of coffee in the morning
right before storms set in
minds settle down
right when the thief of plants and apples arrives.
At two, cotton candy clouds
over a volcano that will always wink
at your grandson, curling up with gran
your grandgirl, herding goats with gramps
Your roots stay in this village
right
where your family eats your bread.
At five, we will meet
where the typhoons twirl the desert sand
there is coffee,
cigarette smoke
Mine in my world
right
where we live.
Life will always be full of mysteries
If you are an inquisitive person
Forever searching for information
Everything referring to life and death
Science, history and biology
Murder, mayhem, magic, music and myth
You, me, them, those and other mysteries
Sun, moon, stars, satellites, sputniks and space
Typhoons, tornados, thunder and lightning
Everything in nature a mystery
Reptiles, roos, dinosaurs, fish, insects
Indigenous *****sapiens all
Evolution, religion and culture
Spectacles (Oh dear, I cannot find mine)
Sub Categories
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