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Storm In A Teacup

The sky is bright blue, but there's a big patch of grey;
I can hear thunder: there's a storm heading this way.
At present, my world is glowing with glorious sun,
But I'm not looking forward to what is to come.

The rolls of thunder are resonating quite far apart,
But hearing them, quickens the beat of my heart.
The day, so far, has been a mix of sun and of rain,
But, thankfully, the sun has prevailed, in the main.

The dark clouds overhead, are as grey as iron;
The thunder roars loudly, like a mighty lion.
I'm really hoping that there will be no lightning;
As an adult, I still find storms quite frightening.

I had been planning to take a steady stroll into town,
But, chances are, that rain will soon be falling down.
The sun continues to shine, and there's little thunder;
Should I take a gamble with the weather, I wonder?

But, I bet as soon as I put a foot out of the door,
The Heavens will open, and the rain will pour.
A short time passes; the sun slowly disappears.
Suddenly, from Heaven, there rains infinite tears.

Luckily, we are spared from a full-blown storm,
And soon the sun reappears, so nice and warm.
The thunder doesn't last long: it soon passes by,
And, I'm feeling glad I stayed at home in the dry.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The thunder storm came suddenly

The thunder storm came suddenly; the air was drawing close,
with grey and black clouds covering the heaven
and suddenly there was no more blue
with the whole day being only grey
while leaves were falling in yellow and brown everywhere,

with the wind cutting icily, trying to grab onto jackets,
untimely the rain came without respect
for the rules of nature,
the thunder storm came suddenly.

Suddenly the weather was in each conversation
of the doctor, lawyer and architect,
as if it contained something incomprehensible and evil
nobody trusted the sudden bad weather;
early in the afternoon people left for home,
the thunder storm came suddenly.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sky-Minded

Blue sky,
blue sky.

Looking at you, wishing the day by.

Blue sky,
purple sky.

Storm coming in, here it is, there's the eye.

Blue sky,
grey sky.

The earth is wailing, the thunder yells, and the clouds cry.

Blue sky,
grey sky,
black sky.

Tore away at the moon, swallowed stars, listened to the sun die.

Black sky
Green sky
Orange sky
Red sky
Pink and yellow and mean sky.

Come on and roll in; it's only in my mind.

poem by Delilah Miller
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Bright Lights

The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
As the world is round, the road is long
Ive trouble on my mind
Ill just keep on moving
Until the day comes round
The wind a blowing on my back
And my feet a flying
Flying down the road
Where the bright lights shine
Mondays in a pigtown
Tuesdays in a truck
Wednesdays a field of mud
And thursdays out of luck
Fridays rain clouds
Saturday flies by
Sunday comes shining
From a blue blue sky
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some towns are golden
Some towns are stained
Some towns are shadows
Fading in the rain
Some towns are rust
And some towns they gleam
Some towns are mad dogs
Some towns are a dream
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some dreams are hollow
Some dreams are cold
Some dreams are crazy
And some dreams are bold
Some dreams are bought
And other dreams are sold
Some dreams lie waiting
At the end of the road
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Age

All the screens are filled with heroes and losers
but the sky's still filled with stars
this junky palace might be on fire
til the winners lose desire
let it go let it go.
So tell me what you see
tell me what you hear
if it's the same as me it's the golden age.
Big brother tries to stitch and bend
but channel surfers find new friends
see freedom's silhouette increase
its time to claim that sweet release
let it go let it go.
I can see a purple patch of jacaranda
framed in eucalypt from this wooden floored verandah
heading past the watermark
heading for the hills
heading for the edge of time
heading for the thrills of the golden age.
Now tell me what you see
and tell me what you hear
if it's the same as me it's the golden age.
Now everybody's talking about the golden age.

song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patches

Mother focused with a frown
The part of me where I sit down.
Said she: "Your pants are wearing through;
Let me sew on a patch for you."
And so she did,--of azure blue.
My britches were of sober grey,
And when I went to school next day,
The fellows said: "Excuse our smile:
We saw your patch 'way off a mile."
Said I: "Sure, it's the latest style."

So each boy asked his Ma to match
With bluer blue my super-patch,
And when to school they came en masse,
It was the emblem of our class,
Admired by every bonnie lass.

Now when I'm old and in my dotage,
I hope I'll have a humble cottage,
And sit me by a hive of bees,
A patchwork quilt accross my knees,
Warming my worn hands in the sun,
All ropey with the work they've done.

The work they've done to give me this
Brief bit of comfort, ease and bliss;
My pathway edged with cockle shells,
And bright with Canterbury bells,
That leads to where my humble thatch is,
It, too, adorned with straw-bright patches.

poem by Robert William Service
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Drinking In Sunshine

The day is glowing,
the leaves in the trees
glow with an inner light,
the grass bright, the sky
an intense blue canopy
framing the scene

I partake of the glorious day
slumbering in the sun, glowing
in its might, dreaming a little bit
while my legs are growing red
and the shade keeps running
away, I keep moving my chair

Drinking in sunshine and life

poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Daybreak is A Glowing Bright Ball

Daybreak is a glowing bright ball
from which the fiery rays shine,
sometimes drops falling along with thunder,
with freshness embracing me when I go outside.

Early morning is a bright sun hanging in the heaven
when the colour of the bright blue
catches you with something full of mystery,
with the wind sometimes clinging to you with fingers.

Spring is flower upon flower
that is spread over fruit trees,
the beauty that astonishes you
when the garden of God stretch into the fields.

Summer is fruit that waits ripe and luring
when everything becomes adult,
sunny day upon sunny day
where the prettiest flowers are still flowering.

Autumn is coloured leaves that are everywhere,
the summer still lingering for the last time
and everything has a secret knowledge
that winter is coming, even every sunray

and nowhere I can find the words of a child,
while I am blinded by the glorious world from being young.

poem by Gert Strydom
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I see a storm brewing up

I see a storm brewing up
at a time
that I am days and nights away
from any shelter

and there are thunderbolts
hitting around me
and the bright blue
suddenly becomes black and grey.

If I have to fall,
then I will
I have tried every thing
and are long past endurance

and on my own
I still go on
until there are no more
clouds, rain and hail
and the bright blue
opens above me again.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainbow

I live at one of those Grey Clouds
Not really know that I am lifeless

I heard people talking about rainbow,
They’d met each other, always in a happy occasion
I wish I met the rainbow myself
Then perhaps I would know,
What the people say is not true
That there is no thing such rainbow,
That could make people’s eyes glittering
In Blue color of the sky
In Green color of the valley
In Red color of the blood
In Yellow color of the sun

I am belongs to the Grey Clouds
I Love Grey, as it is all the color I have in life

Then one day, at the ticking time of my ordinary Grey-day
I see something really bright,
With the scent of a precious flower I’d lost in the mist
For a moment I’m overwhelmed
Then I took a step further…
Away from something so beautiful, that wasn’t Grey
But the figure reveal and I stranded there
I Never learn that there are many color one’s could posses

Day goes by,
The Grey Cloud is the latest place I’d like to be
It was the rainbow…
Holding me and warm me
With a lot of bunch of dream in my empty mind
Dream I never knew
Dream I never dare to explore
The forbidden dream for my Grey outfit
I’m content with joys,
The first time I ever feel grand to face my life
My heart reflecting the color of rainbow
Blue for the peace soul
Green for the new beginning
Red for the faith
Yellow for a bright hope

Not very long
The thunder strikes,
The lightning burned my rainbow
All was Grey again
The rainbow gone away
Prefer to have a quite-smooth journey with all its color

While the thunder sent me here
Back to the Grey Clouds

poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
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Forward

'Forward! forward!'
Rang our fathers' battle-cry.
'Forward! forward!'
Norsemen, be our watchword high!
All that fires the spirit and makes the heart's faith bright,
For that we forward go with might
And faithful fight.

'Forward! forward!'
Whoso loves a home that's free.
'Forward! forward!'
Freedom's course must ever be.
Though it shall be tested by doubt and by defeat,
Who will the losses' count repeat
When vict'ries greet?

'Forward! forward!'
Whoso trusts in Norway's day.
'Forward! forward!'
Whoso goes our fathers' way.
Hid in Northern mountains are spirit-treasures true
They shall, when dawns the morning's blue,
Come forth anew.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Patch Of Blue

Clouds and fog in my sight,
Waiting for the sun.
Hope to see a patch of blue
Making the scene all right.
The troublesome thing that bothers me
is knowing the sun is there.
It’s behind the clouds and fog I see
And a glimpse beyond compare
is a tiny patch of blue
suspended in mid air.

Let that patch of blue become
larger in its size.
Allow it to soothe my eyes.
I need its color to intensify
on every brand new day.
I need it to burn the grayness
and send it on its way.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Great Escape

Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the winter trip
Heading for the slide
Heading for the dignified walk away
Heading for the open road
Goodbye to all that
Heading for the automatic overload
Standing in the open boat
Standing in the swing
Waiting for the ringing and the bright light
Waiting to be recognised
Quiet applause will do
They shower you with flowers when they bury you
You're holding on, you're holding on ...
I. The Last of You
Just when I thought I'd seen the last of you
You come here scratchin' at my door
Your pain and anger's in the howling dark
Of every corridor I walk
So tell me more about the love that you rejected
Tell me more about the trust you disrespected
I still don't know, why did you hurt the very one
Why did you hurt the very one
That you should have protected?
Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the high cloud-nine
Heaven number seven
Heading for the long goodbye
Uncurl the fingers that hold
Summon the strength to let go
Out of the tired world
Out of the upset
Into the sunset

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Storm

That sound... it falls all around us with such grace... yet you still hear it's cries upon the sand and stone... and when u think tht nothing could b more amazing... the skies light up with different shades of blue and grey.. thunder rumbles in the distance.... that sound... it's precious melody flowing through my heart and for that I feel as though I am at peace... as my minds at ease and my body is still... I lay there listening to the pitter patter of the rain... for it is The Perfect Storm

poem by Adela Myers
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It Looks Like Rain

I stand at the window
Looking out, looking out at the grey
After getting up and reading the paper today
Sometimes I just want to crawl back in bed
Pull the covers over my eyes
This world is so full of trouble
All the war planes in the sky
Chorus:
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
And it looks like rain
Dont it make you wonder
Killers make the front page
Good deeds go unnoticed
Seems like, like theres no change
No matter what the vote is
It used to be we were
All looking out for everybody else
But now it seems the only law is
Every man for himself
(chorus)
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
And it looks like rain
Falling down my eyes
It looks like rain
Dont you wonder why
I hear, hear it pounding
In the courtrooms and halls
I hear, hear it sounding
Through these paper-thin walls
I can hear people lying under oath
Lovers breaking their vows
I dont want to give up hope
Is it too late now
Chorus:
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
And it looks like rain
Falling down my eyes
It looks like rain
Dont you wonder why
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
It looks like rain
(repeat chorus and fade)

song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A spring evening

Outside the irises flower yellow and purple
and I haven’t seen a red one yet
and there are some pink and white blossoms
on the fruit trees
and the streetlights burn continually
glowing orange-yellow
all day and all night
as if the municipality
does not know how to do things right
and in the fading evening light
the moon is full and white
and the evening star is already shining bright
and a hot breeze sweeps in
through the open windows
and I wonder when the first spring rain
is going to fall
and in the distance I see thunder
crashing down
in blue-white flashes, but the storm
is blown away and again the sky is clear
and the black speckled by stars.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Grey Blue Eyes

I feel for the light
Your glory was lost that night
And no mind can't get me right
And now I'm praying that you'll find me out
Stone, stone has pulled me down
But my faith has got me bound to your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Don't forget my broken heart
You remember it from the start
You made it and it's all a part
Of your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You're gone and I know I'm dead
I've lost my way
Can't find me in your grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heading South

Orbison/dees
I want to talk to folks back home again, to walk along a lonely country lane
To spend some time with that woman of mine, heading south, heading south
Things look bright and I feel alright yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light,to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom
Under the cumberland moon heading south, heading south
Give me room to travel on my way to a place where dreams all fade away
Where the river flows and tobacco grows heading south heading south
Cause the sun is hot and people love a lot yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light, to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom under the cumberland moon
Heading south, heading south

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A strange glimpse of remembered moments

Dozing this morning – was I awake,
or was I asleep? for many minutes,
I entered a bright and shining world,
but of my own remembered moments;

yet more than visual memories:
that state of mind, that happiness
which knows no other..

all was brightest colour:
the first Mickey Mouse Weekly
to come out in full, rich colour; (I'll swear
it smelled different, too..)

the new craft room at school,
the intoxicating smell of open tins
of bright coloured enamel paint,
the smell of fresh-cut wood…

sunlight on ancient grey-gold stone;
oh, a whole repertoire of memories
on which there was no need to dwell,
for they declared their shared totality…

but one brief, vivid glimpse I’ll share
for your amusement and what else:
slightly curled, from being rolled in the post,
a copy of ‘American Home’ from the late forties:
against a blue blue sky, white clapboard and
white picket fence; inside, a gingham apron,
a sweet-smelling pipe, proudly ruffled hair..
a gingham table-cloth, hand-stencilled furniture,
blue and white plates against a butter-yellow wall..

all radiated promise, satisfaction, happiness;
as if winter sings of Spring;
all things were possible, and live on now;
but, above all, in myself,
a glorious sense – of ordinariness…

as if I was in place; had always been;
would always be; no other place to be,
no other self to seek, no world seen alien;

our holiest, most precious,
self-sacred moments, when experienced,
have this glorious matter-of-factness;
saying, how could this be other?
The glorious, here, is ordinary…
and back in your familiar world,
the ordinary must be glorious; deserved;
and to be savoured as its truth…

I opened my eyes, eventually;
saw no reason to deny that world;
to cover it with yes but, or, maybe;

later thought, only a poem,
to share this, give this back.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flying Dutchman

The blue water stretches
as far as visibility allows to see
and there’s fog
rising white before the storm
out of the water.

The dusk becomes grey
and the sea from blue to dark black
while the night
darker than ink, as only companion
folds over the old ancient ship.

It’s Van der Decken standing as tiller man
behind the big wheel
and forever he steers the ship
on the journey that she goes.

Always cursing
his loud voice thunders
like lightning falling around him
for sailors to tend the sails right
and sails are hoisted crunching, groaning and trembling
with strong ropes
and the ship jumps
over the smashing waves.

Like a phantom
the Flying Dutchman appears
with white sails like a wraith
over the horizon
where it sails before a storm with speed.

The ship becomes lager
as the storm wind
brings her closer
and you hear her creak
against the power of the wind.

There’s thunder bolts blinding suddenly
and sea birds flies screeching
out in front of her,
while Van der Decken’s skeleton
drills his men powerless
to set the sails right
that is vibrating against the wind.

“How long still Lord, ”
echoes against the sea and sky,
without a answer
ever coming
and suddenly the ship is gone
as if it disappeared in the naught.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bubble Of Grey

Living in a glass bubble of grey,
you can’t see clearly,
even in the day.
For everything is distorted
with a dark blue hue,
dingy grey, dingy blue.
Now if you strip away all
the grey,
shine it up to the
bright colors of May,
who knows what fun
you will have today?
So what do you say?
Written by Christina Sunrise on March 18,2011

poem by Christina Sunrise
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