Related quotes: When water floods your own...

Open The Flood Gates

When water floods your own gates, what do you do?
We are no better, and even less prepared.
Caught in our own snare.
Yet we try to help.
Like we really know what were talking about.
An arrogant master of disasters
Ha ha, don't make me laugh.
We are mere pawns in the mountains of things we don't have the know how for.
A second nuclear disaster, is like opening Pandora's door.
You are all free
Demons reek havoc on this foolish society.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

When I was a kid, the disaster we worried about most was a nuclear war. That’s why we had a barrel … down in our basement, filled with cans of food and water. When the nuclear attack came, we were supposed to go downstairs, hunker down, and eat out of that barrel. Today, the greatest risk of global catastrophe doesn’t look like this. … If anything kills over 10 million people in the next few decades, it’s most likely to be a highly infectious virus rather than a war. Not missiles, but microbes.

quote by Bill Gates
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

poem by Elizabeth Bishop (1976)
Submitted by anonym
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Floods And Disasters

floods...floods...floods
nature made disasters
and man made disasters
circle the mankind
alll over the world
and warlords accept
the NOBEL PRIZE without shame
signing the war budget with fame
hurricaines...hurricaines...hurricainesalll over the world
what is this
on the sacrifice feast eve
are we sin ful
in turkey and in Phlipinnes
forgive us the ALMIGHTY
forgive all the manhood and the muslims
graves...graves..graves
all over the countries
what is this
candles...candles...candles
flowers... flowers...flowers
on the graves
and the children
innocent children playing on them
and talking with the dead
death and life
side by side
peace and war
side by side
after disasters
man made or nature made
some live in heaven
some live on earth
after disasters
life goes on
turning on and on
no change
some take the nobel prize without shame
disasters swept away
all my feelings
are we living or dying
not knowing
not knowing

poem by Metin Sahin
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Pandora’s Box of Memories

Sometimes when we open,
Pandora’s Box of memories,
we find a sad reflection
of ourselves buried within.
A reflection of how we’ve hurt,
someone at sometime,
but most of the time,
it is the mistakes we’ve made,
or debts that are left unpaid,
that come back to haunt us
in their special way.
However, sometimes on opening,
Pandora’s Box of memories,
the good things come pouring out.
The ones that make us smile
and yell hip, hip hooray,
didn’t we have a lovely day.

(9 August 2007)

poem by David Harris
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Just To Delight In The Excitement Of It

Demons wish to inflict conflict.
With a chaos and havoc,
Just to delight in the excitement of it.

With a quest to deceive,
And disturb with ease...
Where there are signs of peace freed.

Misdeeds are activities,
Demons purposely release...
With beliefs of receiving satisfaction.

Demons wish to inflict conflict.
With a chaos and havoc,
Just to delight in the excitement of it.

But to the demons' surprise...
These wicked strides begun,
Eventually do come to an end!
With no sympathy to those demonic given.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Buddhist Lesson # 2

enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,

like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child

opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....

opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every

secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....

opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....

opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....

opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb

of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world

as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hyperbole

Like a melodramatic tsunami-
You self destruct our: 'To Be'-
Your harbor-wave of monumental catastrophe-
Washes away, the only remnant of me.

I was the shore of your discontent-
My alibaster sands were never to become a pearl-
You were the rage inside the eye of the storm-
An Earthquake of The World...

Disasters take our breath away-
Floods of grand intensity-
Come whirling and roaring over and over-
Stripping the very essence of me.

Bays and inlets of our cacophony remain-
Dissonance reverberates over our disaster-
While you continue to wear your diadem-
Unmoved, you remain, a diva-male dischord master...

poem by Theodora Onken
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Wisdom First!

We worry over things that turn out well;
We tend to break our head by habit much;
Things take a natural time to take their shape;
Could buds become seeds without blossoming?

If landscapes can’t be bettered, let them be;
Each building crumbles however strong-built;
Just take efforts to improve society;
If it will not improve, just don’t worry.

Time will decide and heal all wounds by scar;
Nature will teach lessons through disasters;
Man cannot think that he can rule all things;
The Maker’s more destructive than all man’s!

But man must learn to become quickly wise;
Our earthly stay is too ephemeral;
The aim of life must not be forgotten;
Within the time-frame, let’s do concrete things.

Our spiritual journey must be right on course;
We tend to veer by sins: but keep the road;
The soul must be prepared for Heaven’s gates;
Can God defile His own Holy Abode?

poem by John Celes
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Nuclear Infected

I'm nuclear infected
I really don't mind
I just go out when the sun goes down
And have a real good time.
I can clear out any ballgame
In a minute and a half
Just show up - glow up
And have a real good laugh
When I'm happy I glow yellow
When I'm sad I glow blue
And I glow red hot when I'm in bed with you
I'm nuclear infected
Really ain't that bad
In fact it's about the best time
I guess I ever had
I'm nuclear infected
Looking for a mate
So slip on something lead, babe
And go out on a date
When I'm happy I glow yellow
When I'm sad I glow blue, yeah
And I glow red hot when I'm in bed with you
Nuclear infected....... don't make me angry
Nuclear infected....... don't make shake
Nuclear infected....... don't get me to sneeze
Nuclear infected....... that's a big mistake
I want to live on Three Mile Island
Where things are clean and neat
'Cause we don't have no health freaks
Clutterin' up our streets
I'm nuclear infected, I need something to eat
A China Syndrome Salad with plutonium and cheese.
When I'm happy I glow yellow
When I'm sad I glow blue
And I glow red hot when I'm in bed with you

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Games Of Chance, A Game Of Chess

whether you like it or not

(are you a man who wants everything to be too secure
without any risk at all?
say no.We cannot proceed further)

our lives are games of chances
every moment is a choice
every hour is a risk
every minute is a bait

sometimes we are the pawns and they are the kings
and bishops and queens

i am talking now of the game of chess

sometime we kick back and we become horses
and we invoke the power of the church
we take the robes of divine power: Jesus is King!
the King in us gets authoritative and checks the
queen of her fidelity
we impose taxing obligations
we make love and take the necessary romance

in a further note however, i like the feelings of being the spy.
roving eyes, ten to twenty disguises, and when caught in flagrante

i always say, 'Hey, i am just an ordinary poet!
what can poets do? Can they do harm to you?
Can they put the bombs and kill thousands of innocent people?
Do they ever know what 9/11 is? Or ' What do poets know about middle east issues, ? The Palestine Thing? The human rights problem?
What do poets say about international humanitarian law concerns? '

Perfect! Too perfect! The agree on one thing: Poets are fools!
They laugh and cry! Those mean and serious thinkers of our society!

They bound me
And in pity
They all set me free!

Like a turtle, I was thrown to the coolest river...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Stand Before You And Talk About Being Just And Good

when you let me talk
i fear that i may not stop talking

after all
the topic is about an eternal quest
for what is good
and just

i get inside
an opening and then i start the
walk inside a labyrinth
and i feel like i am
a lost child
looking for an opening
again
sensing that perhaps there is
another light
beyond us

i sailed
and chanced upon an island
of uncertainty
and then i disembark from
there
only to find
that there is nobody there
except myself
talking

it is so strange
i see mountains and the world
is so silent

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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So You Believe

So you even believe
that Jesus died
on the Cross for you?

Even Satan Demons
believe Christ died
on the Cross for you

Satan Demons
evil manifest
were witnesses

to the crucifixion
could not believe
Jesus loved mortal

sinful prideful you
was mere flesh prepared
to suffer all our sins

as our sacrificial lamb
so that you may be
washed clean of all sins.

This life sufferings
is but a heart beat
but a moment in time

God gave his only begotten son
because God loved you so much
God prepared eternity salvation.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Send Down The Rain

The world is ending gradually on us,
But who can stop it from all the disasters around us?
There is fire here and there is war over there,
There is flood over here and there is Tsunami over there!
And people are being killed in many ways;
But who can stop the actions of nature?

This is like the secret code in 'Louis' Theory 6-5-6';
And we need to correct out history to move on in life!
But who will send down the rain to stop this fire?

Look at Japan and the situatons to the nuclear reactors! !
With fire-fighters pumping out enough water to cool down the overheated reactors;
But we need the heavy down pour from the heavens to help solve this matter,
For the land of Fukushima now looks like the end of the world.

Send down the rain!
For we need the rain to help stop these reactors from a major nuclear disaster! !
But the Tsunami came and the earth quaked,
With fire, snow and the burning of the forest and the oil refineries!
And of the many missing dead bodies not accounted for,
But who can stop the actions of nature?

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Close the eyes

We may face onslaught and not survive
If no timely action is taken or efforts revived
Nature may not spare us for committed sin
We may have complete loss and situation no win

Glaciers are melting with sudden spate in rivers
Havoc, destruction loss of precious lives all over
Progress may be around but not to rejoice
No one can claim prosperity with single voice

Do we want compete disaster and annihilation
No fresh air but only poison for inhalation
Nature striking at will with deadly weapons
We watch helplessly ………………

We are polluting air with deadly gases
Ground water depleting with heavy access
No one seems to be worried and tense
We have gone berserk with loss of sense

We never heard of tsunami or typhoons before
So many natural calamities and disasters come to fore
Earth quakes and floods have become scene of the day
Nature may not spare us, making hell everyday

Do we need prosperity at cost of eco balance?
Can’t we see disasters without using lance?
Have we to wait for till last day to come?
Is it acceptable to mankind and always welcome?

We may have to close the eyes and prepare for worst
Who may bear brunt or disappear first?
Future generation may not forgive and forget
Let us build new concept before it is too late

Sea is loosing charm and creatures disappear
Land also not spared and heavily bears
Sky is already with full of aimless objects
Nothing will be left on earth but only rejects

Sea may rise with tidal waves and strike
Cities may be wiped out …………..
Earth may bear deserted look with no sign or trace
Future historians may write with loss of face

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Am I a master

I am the master, master of art
have painted true pictures,
of rising sun, mountain, sea
through jungles flowing rivers,
shining stars, birds, cloudy sky,
can paint anything and everything.
insects, lions, bear and deer.
just like the living things.

I am the master, master of art,
can make my own paint and brush
Alas! but cannot create raw material
of any of paint, brush or canvas.
Oh! can not paint these seven
which are made only in heaven:
smell, touch, look, hear and taste,
emotions, thought and breathe.

No, I am not the master, master of art
can paint uncountable things yet not.
Not possible to paint love and laugh
I have to go again and again to learn
to the supreme master, who painted
the universe, stars, moon and sun

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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On Paper. Not In Reality.

Don't be foolish.
Of course you are entitled to your opinion.
Aren't we living in a society,
That welcomes free speech?

'Yes...
But it seems to me that...'

Next! ?

'I thought you said we live in a society,
That welcomes free speech? '

On paper.
Not in reality.
I've 'earned' my free speech.
Haven't you noticed how I select my words?
Only 'then' are you free to do so as well.

Next?
I will take two more opinions,
And that will be it!
No...
Not yours.
The good looking one,
From the state of Connecticut!
May I have your opinion, please?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The end of this planet

People expect the end
of this planet
to occur at Armageddon

but slowly but surely
man is destroying
this planet by himself.

The ozone layer is disappearing
by contamination in the air,
the clean water resources are disappearing
by sewerage draining into streams

and with floods, vehement storms,
waves from the sea destroying and streaming over buildings,
drought, great heat and deserts appearing
man is solely responsible.

At Chernobyl in Russia,
at Three Mile Island in America
(maybe even in Japan?)
nuclear radiation
is escaping into the atmosphere.

Oil is washing out on the beaches
and the destruction
comes from the hand of man
who at the cost of others
are leading an existence
until havoc is everywhere
and nobody is able to live here.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Battle of my Demons

As I battle my demons
Inside of me
I have to comprehend each part of me
I must explore my fears
And hear
When they talk to me

As I battle my demons
I must remember to close the gates
To prevent anymore from entering
When I get a grip of why I am weak
I can strategise of how to conquer them all

I am taking a trip down reminisce lane
To jiggle my recollection of when I met
Each one of them
What was the attraction?
How was the friendship formed?
How could I not recognise
Their common quality of vice

Now I wish I had a tool to measure
before giving up my golden treasures
Who betrayed me?
I need answers
And I need them fast
I have to conquers my demons
I ought to do that fast
What ocean are they buried in
How far do I have to dive?
Oh! you wicked demons

I am ready and steady
I have got the strength
to go to any length
I am tired of your presences
Be prepared for a battle
From me
Of my worthy self

www.sylviachidi.com

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Horses of Achilles

When they saw Patroklos dead
—so brave and strong, so young—
the horses of Achilles began to weep;
their immortal nature was upset deeply
by this work of death they had to look at.
They reared their heads, tossed their long manes,
beat the ground with their hooves, and mourned
Patroklos, seeing him lifeless, destroyed,
now mere flesh only, his spirit gone,
defenseless, without breath,
turned back from life to the great Nothingness.

Zeus saw the tears of those immortal horses and felt sorry.
"At the wedding of Peleus," he said,
"I should not have acted so thoughtlessly.
Better if we hadn't given you as a gift,
my unhappy horses. What business did you have down there,
among pathetic human beings, the toys of fate.
You are free of death, you will not get old,
yet ephemeral disasters torment you.
Men have caught you up in their misery."
But it was for the eternal disaster of death
that those two gallant horses shed their tears.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Question Human Survival

poetics beautifully written
are our wells of disappear
disasters of global impact

with huge implications
impacting upon environment
hidden in articles trivia

like industrial holocaust
Nagasaki back to Hiroshima
cattle human candles lit

global warming impact
nuclear environmental disasters
pushed under red carpet

quality perpetuation life
question human survival
hidden lost in small print

less important
than share market
prices Viagra,

is an acute indictment
upon grid lock values
in society apocalypse

Inspired by the poem ‘Just Around The Curve’ by Eric Cockrell.