Hurricane Roars and New York Naps
Some still absent power; all absent subways and buses; others
absent theatrical Broadway; still others absent restaurants of
many…but
Hurricane past, not without experiencing its majesty,
terror, and the sublimity of a great storm.
Dark clouds roamed the sky shadowing it and the sun.
Man ran to greet the storm, after meeting, in terror he runs.
The winds round buildings moaning and howling like a pack of wolves.
Yet my shivering legs and feet tap and beat to the sounds:
The furious winds ripping down signs, clashing lamppost; and splintering
objects and tossing to the street; and pulling cranes from their posts and
throwing to the ground.
Even rain and winds chased folk from their homes; stripped trees to the bare bone.
Young sprightly trees swayed before humbly bowing, yet the shore was fully exposed
to the East river's surge and the Atlantic Ocean's waves reminding me of the climate changes and its beauty and power!
Bye, bye, bye Sandy: New York just awakens from her nap!
By
Almedia Knight-Oliver
October 30,2012
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Powerful Hurricane Sandy
Sandy gathered strength
from rivers and seas
flooding homes, fields,
markets and subways.
Sandy made a pact
with the strongest winds
knocking down trees,
buildings and other
man-made creations.
Sandy declared her power
over technological inventions
sending houses and streets
into days and nights
of darkness and cold.
Powerful Sandy
has just declared
her invincible power
over powerful humans!
_________________
October 30,2012
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Feet
Your feet:
Dirt road walkers
Mud squeezers
Street passers
Bike riders
and Caressers
My feet:
In frailty
accepts time’s cruelty
and age with beauty.
Hardly four feet climb
hills and mountains
Can crawl up legs
Wind calf,
inch round
hard thigh
Feet winds up in bed.
Almedia Knight
(ASK)
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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The Rain Reads Its Book In Dull Low Monotone
the rain reads its book
in dull low monotone
throughout the day
like a devoted school-boy-
it doesn't look like a storm as predicted
except for rough winds without fury -
the arrogance of a rogue storm
is totally absent-
or does it weep over
a denial of its dear demand by nature?
who can read the sorrow of a weeping rain?
is it the murmur of an unwilling task?
the trees also share its grief in sympathy
with strung pearls of tears all over them-
how can i be happy amidst this melancholy
but to weave verses of distress and woe?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Our Absent Friends
We often speak about
the fun we used to have
whenever we retrace our memories,
remembering our absent friends.
We remember our growing years,
the smiles on our faces
and the funny things we did
with our absent friends.
As the years roll on their way
and age creeps up on us
we sometimes like to reflect
on our long gone absent friends.
The flower of youth has withered,
but the flower never died.
It is still locked in our memory
when we remember our absent friends.
1 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Absent From Routine
Absent but not of mind.
Too protective of precious consciousness,
Peace of mind and happiness.
Absent from nonsense.
Professed and not guessed.
And not seeking any to find.
To torment like the rest.
Absent from routine,
And thoughts of wasting time.
Absent from props used for chaos.
And those creating it to market!
As if this is a goldmine.
And the grease of sleaze,
Is there to slop it not stop it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An autumn storm
An autumn storm
~
The sky turned grey, clouds rolled over
A wind picked up howling through trees
Birds took flight, flew into hiding
Rain patted down gathering pace
The horizon drew a charcoal grey
While winds picked up and rain ran down
Windows rattled, trees swayed
Whistling high pitch, almost screaming
The storm it came and raged wild
Then as quickly, as sudden as it came
It broke to clear skies, wisps of cloud
A gentle wind rolling through leaves
Rain soaked water dripping down
Drying in the sun now shining
An autumn storm in its passing
Captured the imagination to write
On an otherwise ordinary day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Wave after Wave
From his water home, miles over miles then
Meeting his dove, cooing and wooing and
Cradling her in his arms, then breaking -up ashore.
The very next day, though different, returning
with silver wave, they
Roll and ripple, rollicking to tomb
But…
Never same one, wave after wave
returns again and again…doesn't hold on,
just gives wind tighter grip on sea;
beauty and motion to the ocean;
kisses the shore
laps the rock
peace to humankind!
By
Almedia Knight-Oliver
October 22,2011
Poetess feeling watery…though life's waves provides
us options: ride the waves as a lovers, or drown in them….
or some things are "in the lap of god"
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Hymn 23 part 1
Absent from the body, and present with the Lord.
2 Cor. 5:8.
Absent from flesh! O blissful thought!
What unknown joys this moment brings!
Freed from the mischiefs sin has brought,
From pains, and fears, and all their springs.
Absent from flesh! illustrious day!
Surprising scene! triumphant stroke
That rends the prison of my clay;
And I can feel my fetters broke.
Absent from flesh! then rise, my soul,
Where feet nor wings could never climb,
Beyond the heav'ns, where planets roll,
Measuring the cares and joys of time.
I go where God and glory shine,
His presence makes eternal day:
My all that's mortal I resign,
For angels wait and point my way.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Raining...
Morn, midday, midnight…
Pouring off rooftops,
down windowpanes,
down my face, pouring
hardship to absorb
Morn, midday, midnight
complete, but I'm disengaged
from my whole
day follows rain and the
advent of sun, and solitude
finds its place in dry rest
Baring loneliness and
longing for my sun and the
injured sky rains blood without
coloring my big star red, these increase
energy in my bedlam! Yet, I'm not too
absent-minded to intuit the omen:
trees deprived of life, and
as dead as winter's debris, yet
outside, life-force continues its path
Seems, I'm losing the power of love
and illness chainsawing and limbing and
leaving stumps and no phantom pain...
just the real thing!
Such impotent optimism is cause to erect
images of varied verse that I boldy penned:
Erotic Flamingo,
A Tale of Two Sisters,
The title of my loving partner,
Marveling the power of love
against the power of death
relishing beautiful morning
thousand points of light
twinkling in sky
Cow jumping over moon, and
dish running away with spoon.
Yet puzzling gloom and doom, still.
Raining…
pouring rain dissolves
not the love that burns in my heart!
O' love is heart's conquest, but you
O' death, I must surrender my body.
Save for spirit among spirits.
By Almedia Knight-Oliver, March 7,
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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3 O'clock In The Morning
the rain stopped
and i have just awakened from a deep sleep
it was earlier than usual
and what i heard are the raindrops leaving the last words of their lives
a tapping of the roof
a heave of a sigh
some monotonous sounds of the waves of the shore
not far from where i am writing
the last whispers of the winds from the trees about to shed their last leaves
the sounds of wild ducks leaving knowing that another storm is coming
i think of you
i think of your search of yourself
i think of myself
how i was once broken and destroyed by the changes of the winds
how i picked up the pieces like some leaves scattered in the forest
beyond repair, i write some memories.
weary, i imagine some moments that i may have been at rest with myself.
i think of you. I think about when the rain shall stop forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hurricane Sandy Nov 5th,2012
HURRICANE SANDY Nov 5th,2012
By
James Bredin
The northeast coast just got hit by hurricane Sandy at night,
And New York City just got one hell of an awful fright,
Houses, subways and taxis flooded and in distress,
Hospitals vacated without power and all on TV and in the press.
Many houses burned to the ground in New Jersey and power gone,
Many relatives drowned and we can't tell what's going on,
An extremely sad affair with the subway closed down,
And gas stations out of gas and can't get up or downtown.
And all this in the middle of a presidential election,
In an area that truly needs lots of protection,
I think we need to build some dykes in case it happens again,
And the subway has to have a proper working drain.
Nov 5th,2012
poem by James Bredin
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Center Of Attention
Doesn't it seem as if,
The one most opinionated...
As to who should do what to get things done,
Is seldom the one to show proof of doing anything...
Others can criticize.
People will lie on others when given the opportunity.
Especially if another is conveniently absent.
With a doing without an equal and shared mutual expertise,
That is exchanged in public in the presence of another accused...
As quickly as those opinions by one are given?
Usually it's just that one verbally attacking behind another's back.
Isn't it?
People will lie on others when given the opportunity.
Especially if another is conveniently absent.
Loving to be the center of attention without being interrupted.
And proving to have an ability to do it!
To boost one's acceptance and appeal.
While keeping one's insecurities from being revealed.
Even though this can not remain concealed without being exposed.
People will lie on others when given the opportunity.
Especially if another is conveniently absent.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sound of Her Memory
Every day I hear the sound of
your memory ringing loudly
In my ears and the mind of my
heart feeling the beat of your beings.
Absent trace of songs and true
stories: all of a mouth no longer speaks.
Soundless, unreasoning, unjustified
hostess [fear], host [you] and
anxiety and phobia were sidebars.
Number of years ago,
a door opened and reluctantly
she entered and took her seat, with
quivering a heart, crossing
her wrist and becoming
captive of the dark.
Its 3 in every morning,
no sleep still,
because
the sound of
locked doors,
bulging eyes,
howling winds and being
surrounded by human fence.
And she lay paralyzed in bed never
to walk again because laden sound of fear
fixed her legs and tied her tongue, as well as,
muzzling voices of family and friends.
Only when the sound of death loosen its tight grip
on fear, did her face speak in glow
and her mouth said 'I'm afraid.'
After hours, her
regurgitating heart and irregular blood flow ceased to be.
The sound of the doctor was clearly heard: 'we tried to save her'
Silent tears flowed as I looked down into her quiet face, eyes shut,
partially opened mouth being fixed with a white piece
of cloth circling chin and head, forever closing the sound of her speech.
At the viewing, her left hand humbly rested on her right one
in respect and honor of the Ripper, and leaving
the sound of her memory…
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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After The Storm
(carly simon)
Heats up, teas brewed
Clothes strewn around the room
Looks like a wind swept through
Made a wild man out of you
And doesnt anger turn you on
And expectation of a calm
After the storm
And your body feels so warm
After the storm
The winds pulling the moon down
Under the eiderdown
Youre taking me to town
And youre tossing me around
You come on like a hurricane
Im settling like youre weathervane
After the storm
And your body feels so warm
After the storm
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet to Ocean
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Whilst roar'd thy waves, like lions when they rove
By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth!
Yet didst thou n'er restore my fainting health?—
Didst thou ne'er murmur gently like the dove?
Nay, dost thou not against my own dear shore
Full break, last link between my land and me?—
My absent friends talk in thy very roar,
In thy waves' beat their kindly pulse I see,
And, if I must not see my England more,
Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Storm Song
From the blue sky, pale but fair,
In the listless humid air,
Swells a distant, slate-gray row,
Angry mountains roll and grow,
Then there comes a low, faint growl,
Breezes grow into a howl,
Shattering, sharp cracks split the air,
A splattering, then a rolling snare,
Roaring, rumbling, crackling sound,
Young trees bending toward the ground,
Bowing to the storm god’s power,
Thirsty roots soak up the shower,
Gradually, the storm winds tire,
Cooler breezes now inspire,
Crisp, clean feelings of rebirth,
As bright clean sunlight bathes the earth
poem by Richard Dates
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River, Tide, Run...
Arched curled body washes ashore.
Lost my head in lover’s bed or seashore.
Take care of that head:
Rub it
Right it
Swell it.
Howling and swimming
the aquatic plane
moving hands
kicking feet, yet
no metamorphosis.
Girl you’re crazy as hell, his
mistress instead of his farewell
and miles and miles of non-
direction and miss-steps.
River, tide, runs, breaking
up on shore.
Strong-arms beat
down door,
pots and pans winged….
all went quiet,
voices muffle
on the floor
breathing
swooning
cradled
In his
arms...
like
wave
on
wave
drowning
in
Milky
Waves.
By
Almedia Knight-Oliver
Oct,17,2011
A warm thanks to my,13 years old, grand daughter Ilana Sabio, poet/writer/artist for permitting me to use the title of one of her poems: “Run, Tide, Run” This poem flowed from a stream of consciousness.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Absent Tune
In everything we do lies a melody
that absent tune we cannot hear.
Some call it the rhythm of life
that follows us step by step
as we walk our life through.
Love has a crazy beat,
which we all dance to,
young and old, no matter who.
Whether it be winter, spring, summer or fall.
Love’s crazy beat captures us all
and makes us dance to its tune.
Like life’s absent melody
we cannot hear it,
only feel its tug on our shoulder
that makes us turn around
and dance to its tune.
We cannot resist no matter what
as it is part of life’s melody
that absent tune we cannot hear.
The one we must always obey
whenever it rings in our ear.
12 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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The night sky is crying
There’s an old story
that the holy word holds true,
which happened in a time like today
when people lived only for themselves
and thought that they had knowledge
of the things around them.
The ancient poetry of Gilgamesh
proclaims that story
which some see as just a myth
and it is part of the traditions
of many nations
across the earth
and it says that once
long ago there was a cataclysmic flood,
like non other:
The night sky is crying
and tears are streaming
down to the earth
in splattering sheets.
The sound of the weeping wind
howls through the trees
sweeping green and yellow leaves
from the branches.
Thunderbolt after thunderbolt
roars down from the clouded sky
as if the elements are in terror.
The rain turn into hail
and from hail
into a blizzard of rivers
falling from the air,
as if the creator
is emptying a unknown ocean
onto the earth.
Hurricane storm winds shatter
and huge waves
brake with great power
and the water keep on rising
and lighting storms bash continuously
until man and beast are dead,
but for the people and animals
in that one solitary ship
that is save while the Creator
protects them
and even the dark spirits
fear the anger of the Almighty God.
When ever I see a rainbow
the story comes to my mind
and the promise,
that water will not destroy
the world again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Absent Friends
As a year closes,
we always stop for a moment
to remember absent and departed friends.
We raise a glass
and tip our hat
in remembering absent and departed friends.
Life’s highway is a short one
and somewhere it comes to an end,
but friends are not forgotten
they live on in our memory.
And once a year we remember
before the New Year starts
our absent and departed friends.
21 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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