The deluge
The crust of the world breaks open
and water gushes up
from below,
while heavy continual rain
pours down from above.
Lightning bolts roar menacing
flashing white blue
against a clouded black sky
and the sun is blocked off
and it’s like night.
The ark rises on water
which floods universally
causing havoc and catastrophe
and in tremendous winds
Noah steers the ship
to ride gigantic waves.
His massive arms
is rock solid on the wheel
while huge waves break
splashing him soaking wet
and the chill creeps in
right through to his bones,
but the biggest chill
is in his heart of humanity,
while he watches the rest
birds and animals die
and dead bodies drift
as far as his eyes can see.
Solid rain pours down for forty days
without end, winds howl in great intensity
and waves break and rock the ship
uncaring for its destiny
and it’s as if every lightning bolt
finds the ship
as the only thing available to bash down on.
Days and nights he watches
dark green water rising,
rushing, crushing and coiling out
and in the dark the wake at the stern
gleams white.
[Reference: Genesis 6-8.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Heavy Rain
Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain, when Im with you
Seems like a thousand years
Since we both felt free
Weve seen a million faces
All staring at you and me
But just like humphrey bogart said
Before he passed out on his bed
Heres looking at you kid
And the rocky road ahead
Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain when Im with you
You know the thunder comes like a lions roar
But it leaves me now
When you walk out the door
Listen to that northern wind
Its singing a sad old song
A melody so sick and tired
Been blowing much too long
Aint it time to feel the weather change
You know its overdue
Love is gone, we cant go on
Pretending old is new
Rain down
And the daylight comes
As a sweet surprise
Heavy rain
Filling up my eyes
Heavy rain
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Rain
Thunder starts rolling in
As it fell from the skys
Rain
Oh how it knows me so
As I stand underneath it
While I welcomed it with wide open arms
With my head facing the lightning bolts up ahead
The rain drops upon my face
Like welcoming kisses
As the thunder roared louder than the mightiest lion
As the lightning bolts lit up the sky brighter than Vegas itself
I twirled in the rain
Not caring who saw
In that rain
That rain I welcomed ever so
That rain which had the softest touch I had ever felt
poem by Storm Pedersen
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Rain drive
I see a big storm
hanging dark against the sky
and lightning bolts,
that hit smashing to the ground.
There are big drops
that hit whipping down
and the black road
wet and somewhat slippery.
There’s no way
to ride away from the storm
and the traffic
stand still in front of me,
but with a motorbike
you can cut past cars.
It’s as if clouds of steam
rise out of the hot tar road,
but the screen
of the helmet
is covered by the rain
that I have difficulty seeing
to were to go
and which cars are moving or standing.
With Soutpansberg avenue that lies open before me
I open the throttle
and there’s wind, rain
and thunders that fall flashing blue
around me
and resound somewhere behind the motorbike
and the rain on my hands
hits like hail.
.
The leather jacket keeps the top of my body dry and warm,
but the bottom
is soaked and wet
and I feel the coldness
rising from below.
There’s busses coming from the front
that throws water whipping
as far as they go
and somewhere in the left lane,
there’s cars stopping for a pothole
and my motorbike catches speed
past in the right lane.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer thunder storm
The air is full of swallows
cross it up and down
and the late afternoon is humid
and thunderclouds hang heavy.
Lightning bolts falls clapping
out of black clouds
and there’s a cold wind
that blows for a while.
Big drops buzz down
and the road steam
while water fall down in buckets
and the fresh smell
of rain and sand
is everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Sun Is Hidden (Terzanelle)
(after Lewis Turco)
The sun is hidden, huge shadows gather
while the wind rocks branches blow the leaves
and milling dark clouds draw together
this is the moment when thunderbolts cleaves
when rain drizzles, then pours down steadily
while the wind rocks branches blow the leaves
when full of superstition old people speak guardedly
of branches of thunder, sheets of blue-white lightning
when rain drizzles, then pours down steadily
and the bolts of thunder comes down somewhat frightening
when people draw curtains, sit in the semi-darkness, are afraid
of branches of thunder, sheets of blue-white lightning
and without power at candlelight the table is laid
while the acts of nature, its sheer power we cannot ignore,
when people draw curtains, sit in the semi-darkness, are afraid
and we have experienced this kind of weather sometime before.
The sun is hidden, huge shadows gather
while the acts of nature, its sheer power we cannot ignore
and milling dark clouds draw together.
[Reference: 'Terzanelle in Thunderweather' by Lewis Turco.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Upon Writing This Poem
you see, everyone is asleep
and the rain pours heavily on the tin roof of this old house
the white dog lays with its four legs facing the ceiling
feeling so contented
i closed the glass windows
and let the brown curtains fall
on the floor
as i begin to write the words i am not thinking of anybody else
is there someone still who is special to remember
during a heavy rain on a night like this when i am already alone by
myself?
i still have a suspended answer to all these questions
or perhaps they have no answers still
for the past 30 years
now with some white hairs and extended forehead
i am at home with myself
and no rain how heavy and how long
can instill in me the fear
of its monotonous sound
my feet have roots and my hands have tendrils
my head is a big sunflower
and the void out there is such a beautiful greenfield
on a limitless horizon
this world is an open window
this earth is a big boat
and i am now the sailor expectant of islands
and welcoming ports
bustling cities
diamond lights
starry skies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Rain To Remember!
Rain lashed out with lightning and thunder!
For every lightning phone also rang without fail!
It continued till I switched off light and went to bed!
Next day morning some death news due to lightning came!
Storm has dissipated but rain lashed now and then;
It's raining time nothing can stop it from falling!
Today there is complete silence prevailing!
Night is cold and wind has stopped after evening
Yet rain warning is given and is expected for 24 hours!
The summer drought without rain is causing so heavy rain now!
Farming fields without rain crops are waiting for rain
A week's rain at least will make it okay now!
When there is no rain we cry for it and when it is there we don't want
Whether we say this or that rain will do the best it can when it comes!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Colors of a Fallen World
Purple pages of my heart
Bruised to black by ink pen
Frozen in an icy mist
Cauterize my wounded soul
Gray and bleak my future seems
Correct the wrongs
And wrong the rights
Crimson blood pours
From every orifice
Deceit poisons human existence
Pregnant with immorality
The world swells with pride
Given in to satanic influence
The earth bleeds yellow
Stain the white
With your green lies
And hope the blue
Stays opaque
Heal the bruises
Black to skin
Paint a rainbow promise
And fail to keep it white
Love the world in red
My eyes go blind
With fear of black
Tears of blue soak in
It’s not enough my friend
The world is black
And death is abundant
Sin rules purple
And love fails white
Pink flowers wilt and gray
My purple pages stay black
poem by Jennifer Sollmann
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Thunder Touched (Cavatina Sequence)
There is a place with scorched molten earth
near some hillocks
where blue lightning lashes repeatedly
and there it knocks
anything that it can find with its fire,
where some big rocks
draws it somehow on that much higher ground,
that is cleared from anything around.
The sky was ominous grey and brooding,
intensely black
while static or maybe fear made hairs rise,
we did turn back
while some rain, bird egg size hail drilled down;
under attack
of great blue-white thunder that was falling
with a mighty whipping roaring blue sting.
Just in time we reached some safe cover,
we were drenched
while bolts of blue thunder fell threatening,
in fear clenched
were the fingers of both her tiny hands,
as if wrenched
the muscles of her arms moved in pain
while thunder lashed again and again.
Blue-white blazing light fell on closed lids;
her inner eye
remembered decimating scorching
from some times by,
when medical staff unleashed a bolt
let fury fly,
torching some synapses of her own mind,
experimenting they acted unkind.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cloudburst (terzanelle)
The clouds are dark as the night
until the sky opens it sluices
with here and there light
pouring down gathered juices
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
until the sky opens it sluices
with lightning falling with feelers, ready to plunder
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
bashing down, and people flee in fright
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
splattering in fury, causing people to drown
and man and beast is desolate
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
with people struggling past fear, past hope, past hate.
The clouds are dark as the night
and man and beast is desolate
with here and there light.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Storm
Cattle egrets in the dry grass waded
like white clerics at the hooves
of brood cows, heifers, and new calves.
Forked lightning. Calm.
The darkness in the cattle tank welled up
and flooded the reflection of the trees.
Turkey vultures wheeled, and wheeled away.
No swifts, no swallows, children gone indoors.
Rain seethed into the willowtops,
sky flashing, while the black bull
under the water locust glowed
with an inward surge of darkness
poem by Brooks Haxton
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Afternoon rain
Every day this summer
in the late afternoon
the rain just keep pouring down
as if the milling clouds
and the storm has its clock set.
Thunder flashes here and there
white-blue electric bolts
from a sudden grey sky
and big and small drops fall
rushing down to the earth.
Heat rises in steaming white patches
on the hot black tar road
while the first drops make it wet
and water suddenly streams everywhere
in miniature rivers.
People run to reach their cars
and are stuck in huge traffic jams
where cars crawl meters at a time,
while others go to bars
and enjoy a drink or two
and smoke their cigars.
Two teenage girls
that are soaking wet
with T-shirts clinging translucent
dance on the sidewalk
in the falling rain
and their giggles
catches my ear
and suddenly it’s fun to live.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Opened The Door (List)
When I opened the door
I found:
four police cars (with flashing lights)
one police car (of which the siren was screaming)
nine policemen (at the garden gate) ,
ten of the neighbours (that were watching) ,
two dogs (that were roaring protecting)
three lightning bolts (that followed shortly after each other)
some rain pouring down (that was wetting everything)
one policeman (that was shouting)
and the reason for all of this:
you had laid a false charge.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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Chocolate in the Rain
Dark clouds
loom in the sky;
now the sound of thunder -
breaks the stillness of the evening air.
A flash of lightning
lights up the dark sky.
A light drizzle at first -
and then a heavy downpour.
My heart revels…
at the beautiful sight
of the white rain
outside my window.
And my mouth waters as I see...
a large slab of dark chocolate on the table.
Is this not a little unfair
that it should be just sitting there?
So I decide to nibble on it…
and marvel at its bitterness.
As I watch the falling rain, I tell myself
I shall eat as long as it continues to rain.
But it rains for a couple of hours
and the chocolate is no longer there.
I now wonder -
why I ate it all without a care!
01 June 2010
6: 40 pm
poem by Gita Ashok
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Thunder Thursday
The Sun breaks through the overcast.
The rain has ceased to fall at last.
The ground below is soaking wet.
The streams and rivers overflow.
A summer I will not forget.
The violent thunderstorms widespread
With rain falling torrentially.
Forked lightning flashing overhead.
Flooding homes and property.
The rain falling persistently.
The drainage systems cannot cope.
They simply lack capacity.
The rising waters envelope
All in their path remorselessly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Feeling The Season
Fat summer and small season,
Sounds of water make noise;
Close your eyes to the sound
Of innumerable utterances
From the branches of our trees
In a garden that understands
That life is more than just a season.
Fat villages walk along a path of disgust,
Dust is a yawn, dirt is a solution of course.
The sky begins to repel us with its fracture,
The bolts go highly rewarding with noise,
And noise with more violence, the solution.
Lightning is a solution, lightning bolts!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Ballades I - To Theocritus, in Winter
AH! leave the smoke, the wealth, the roar
Of London, leave the bustling street,
For still, by the Sicilian shore,
The murmur of the Muse is sweet.
Still, still, the suns of summer greet
The mountain-grave of Helike,
And shepherds still their songs repeat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.
What though they worship Pan no more
That guarded once the shepherd’s seat,
They chatter of their rustic lore,
They watch the wind among the wheat:
Cicalas chirp, the young lambs bleat,
Where whispers pine to cypress tree;
They count the waves that idly beat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.
Theocritus! thou canst restore
The pleasant years, and over-fleet;
With thee we live as men of yore,
We rest where running waters meet:
And then we turn unwilling feet
And seek the world—so must it be—
We may not linger in the heat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea!
ENVOY
Master,—when rain, and snow, and sleet
And northern winds are wild, to thee
We come, we rest in thy retreat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea!
poem by Andrew Lang
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When it rains
When the rain comes
with lightning pouring down,
I can see flashes coming nearer from far.
The dogs get scared
by the thundering noise
and shiver with every bang
that the lightning bolts strike,
but the ginger cat’s eyes
glow as if alight.
No rain can keep him in
and like a ghost he prowls away,
appearing here and there
and in the pouring whet climbs trees
to pounce on unexpecting birds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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