Gutters
It is one of those gray days
That you kneel for the downpour
To remind you of the cold pangs,
To probe for dark rooms where
Numbness hath not yet vacate
And amidst the hail of tears
You'd find yourself breathing,
Sobbing. Shuddering. Suffering.
The thunders were deaf
And muted by its paroxysm,
The lightning was blinded
By its own garish light,
The contemptuous lances fell
Concatenating the clouds
(That I tried to open
And immediately closed)
Into the thirsty earth
For a short-lived eternity
The most disparate angles
Formed a perfect circle
You let the gust beat you and
The tempest to whirl around you
Gripping you in its flimsy hands
And you watched the storm pass
Leaving the ruins in your heart
The sun shone bleakly and
Its superfluous innuendos gyrated
You found yourself besmirched
In the forlorn mud, wading futilely
Like an agog virtuoso haplessly
Reeling souvenirs from places
That are still to be traversed
Without an audience adept
For listening and musing
Drained, tired, lost from vindication
You fall and slither aimlessly
Into the coldest gutters.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Fujiwara Effect
I incarcerate myself
inside this harrying vertigo
lambasting with a ponderous
tirade of thunders and lightning
And as I take the conflagration
brought by the sentimental tempest
and drown in your naïve downpour
the scythes of madness dance
like the petals gliding contingency,
as subtle as the gray macabre
behind the clouds of your squall
And this calamity hungers
for more obliteration, annihilation
like how pain needs more pain,
like how an open wound inviting
infection to amputate the roots,
So gust after gust, I inveigled
the lancers to come my way
where I docilely lay on the mud
listening for the ripples secrets
Until a storm fadangoed with a storm
and in the oppressive limbo
I rivet myself in the brunt
oblivious in the fathoms of despair
with a staid despondence
And when everything is ailed
unto a consummate destruction
perhaps, just perhaps,
there'd be room for tomorrow
and a peace that can cradle
the lost perchance of restoration
poem by Norman Santos
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Generations Of Nations
I watched tears fall from the sky
as they fell to the ground
a thousand tears
I seen her cry
as she washed away
a time that keeps changing
and it's changed you and me
still she never made a sound
Another hundred years
will soon pass on by
and generations of nations
will soon come to a fall
as we lose it all
The coming of a new dawn
brings in a different day
what was lost today
can never be found
you turn around
all you knew will be gone
So you hide in your mind
memories of yesterday
open doors to find
a world you can't rewind
when love was at peace
and two hearts beat as one
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Out Of The Depths
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry went up from a sea --
The waves were wild with an awful wrath,
Not a light shone down on the lone ship's path;
The clouds hung low:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Rose wild from the hearts of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry floated over the waves --
Far over the pitiless waves;
It smote on the dark and it rended the clouds;
The billows below them were weaving white shrouds
Out of the foam of the surge,
And the wind-voices chanted a dirge:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Wailed wilder the lips of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Not the sign of a hope was nigh,
In the sea, in the air, or the sky;
And the lifted faces were wan and white,
There was nothing without them but storm and night
And nothing within but fear.
But far to a Father's ear:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Floated the wail of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Out of the depths of the sea --
Out of the night and the sea;
And the waves and the winds of the storm were hushed,
And the sky with the gleams of the stars was flushed.
Saved! Saved! Saved!
And a calm and a joyous cry
Floated up through the starry sky,
In the dark -- in the storm -- 'Our Father' is nigh.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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My City Of Ruins
Theres a blood red circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church doors blown open
I can hear the organs song
But the congregations gone
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Now the sweet veils of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The hustlers and thieves
While my brothers down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Now theres tears on the pillow
Darling where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Now tell me how do I begin again?
My citys in ruins
My citys in ruins
Now with these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Rise up
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storm
The clouds turned to gray
The air turned to cold
And I knew by that day
Some evil would unfold.
It arrived without a warning
Along with the pounding rain
And it was gone by the morning
As violently as it came.
But for that night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
Violently came the wind
Terrorizing with no form
Then came the thunder and lightning,
Arriving, was the storm.
Many trees I saw bent
Then God clapped his mighty hand
While many trees were refusing to fall,
But then, a tree didn't stand.
Rushing came the wind
Pounding came the rain
Crashing came the thunder
Quickly, came my pain.
Underneath my bed I hid
From the terror of the storm
And in pain and terror I cried
In horror and pain I moaned.
That night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
And the rain just kept falling
More tears I began to weep
For the wind just kept calling,
Then that night; I fell asleep.
Then morning she finally came
I awoke to the sound of peace and birds
The sound of thunder and rain was gone
Which had awoke my sleeping world.
Then outside towards the sky I stared,
To the clouds God he did call
I saw Gods hand moving the wind
Commanding the rain not to fall.
Then the sun began to shine
So on my knees I fell to pray
Then again, I began to cry
Thanking God; the storm had went away.
poem by Randy McClave
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Uproar and after math for M'lady Catrina
The thunder growls and threatens war.
Storm clouds parade in massed array
and fierce blue bolts of lightning soar
To try and drive the clouds away.
Just for a moment all is still
The clouds appear prepared to fight.
The lightning bolts strike where they will
and pierce the clouds with spears of light.
The clouds disgorge much needed rain
upon the thirsty earth below
The fields will soon be green again
and once again the streams will flow.
The storm has passed it has moved on.
The air is feeling cool and clean.
But for damage which it has done.
You would not know the storm had been.
Though summer storms strike suddenly
it’s very seldom that they last
They pass over just as quickly
and are forgotten very fast.
Flash floods and overflowing drains
will be remedied speedily.
The storm provided much needed rains
the earth accepted greedily.
We should be grateful not complain
But being human we will do
We lose much less than what we gain.
The fruitful earth will bloom anew.
02/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Glowworm
The mountains lost in clouds, the giant firs
Standing out 'gainst the never-ceasing lightning,
Shaken by thunderpeals, in threefold strength,
As all the valleys echoed through the night.
The mighty heads stormbent, the branches tossed
Into the sheets of water, sky and earth
In lurid light, a never-ceasing flame.
There in the grass, beneath a tiny leaf
A firefly put forth its wondrous ray,
As if no storm, no rain, no hail were nigh,
A peaceful little flame, and yet so strong,
That it outshone the lightning. It would say:
I am the same as lightning! Storm thy life
And threat'ning thunder, but thy flame O minstrel,
Thy heart's own fire, is as strong, as true,
As elementary as Fate's wild raving,
And though it throws its light but on a leaf,
That leaf may be eternal by the light
Thy soul hath shed on it. That steady flame
Burns on, when all the clouds have spent their fire,
And when the bowels of the earth have ceased
To growl in answer. Undisturbed, thy flame
Will live, defying Fate's alarm, a fearless,
Undying mighty word, as strong as lightning
And love's own sheen, thy soul's unwavering beacon.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Cruel Winds of Winter
Got up this morning, no sun in my eyes,
The house is so cold, no warmth to the fire,
My love is gone, he took all my desire,
And cruel winds of winter howled all night.
My love could warm me in the coldest time,
Bring the light of day to the darkest night,
As tears of my sorrow fall from my eyes,
The cruel winds of winter cry in delight.
Pull on my coat, keep the chill from my side,
I walk by the sea, the salt stings my eye,
The caps are all gray, like clouds in the sky,
And with those cruel winds of winter, I cry.
As tears of my sorrow fall to the sand,
My love is not here to warn my cold hand,
He’s gone like the sun from this harsh, gray land,
And only the wind seems to understand.
This endless winter has replaced his light,
My sweet love gone, no warmth in my sight,
I drift lost and lonely, no sleep I find,
Still those winds cry with me deep in the night.
My heart so heavy, life has no delight,
And the cruel winds of winter, torment my night.
poem by Teresa Dearing
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The best laid plans.
No moon tonight that we can see.
The dark storm clouds are gathering
The thunder grumbles distantly.
Ominous and threatening.
I’m far from home no shelter near
When suddenly the sky turns bright
As blue white streaks of lightning sear
Across the darkness of the night.
The lightning tears the clouds apart.
Swiftly and efficiently
And this allows the rain to start.
Pouring down torrentially.
My windscreen wipers cannot cope.
I cannot see the road ahead.
my journeys end a forlorn hope.
Tonight I shall not see my bed.
The storm still rages to and fro.
I have no choice but wait it out.
When it blows over I shall go
As it must I do not doubt.
I watch and wait impatiently.
Just static on the radio.
Caused by the lightning probably.
I shall be glad when I can go.
At last the sky begins to clear.
It seems the storm has run its course
The clouds pass on and stars appear.
I bowed to its superior force.
I can continue on my way
But still I must drive carefully.
As others pass in clouds of spray
Too fast and driving thoughtlessly.
Quite soon I shall be home in bed
Catching up on beauty sleep.
Another journey lies ahead
I have appointments I must keep...
May be the weather will be kind.
Although the forecasts none too bright.
I can’t afford to fall behind.
My deadline will run out tonight.
Wednesday,01 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Lightning
I am lightning
A light here then gone
I am lightning
A flash quick and strong
I am lightning
My life to short to tell
I am lightning
The ground scorched where I fell
I am lightning
I never strike in twos
I am lightning
I shatter your light's fuse
I am lightning
Destroying what I touch
I am lightning
And I live as such
A storm has come upon me
The lightning I am strong
The rain falls around me
Makes my arc trails long
I fall from the heavens
Crashing to the earth
Though your call it beckons
I cannot stay by hearth
Though the fire warms me
I'm gone to fast to tell
Though the air, it fights me
I ring true the bell
This ground I've hit before
If not here then there
But it is the same ground
If not the same exchange
The moment I can stand
I'm tossed back to the sky
On the ground I'll never be
Not till the day I die
poem by John Dillenger II
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Outside Our Silent Parasols
Your departure made shadows
inside this steel gray curtain
prancing with every step
like the flames of the sunset
swallowed inside the clouds
draping the unweaving of light
The rain plummets down
trying to furrow the distance
between heaven and earth
while veiling the complacence
festooned with false pretense
Because the obsidian eyes
casted downwards like the rain
is caught in a ponderous downpour
filling the empty basin I held
like a thirsty tree, writhing in time
And as I waded through little oasis
where your steps left a Doppler effect,
I listened to the orchestra of susurrations
and the symphonic percussions -
the minutiae slivers of our shattering
inside this nebulous weather
pleading for the decadence to halt
We wiped our wet faces and
recognized the old photographs
there is no reason to stay astray
under this eternal mad rain
And now that we took shade
under the comfort of our parasols,
the pall of rain marks on my shoulder
and its unlikely weight slowly
reveals itself to me as it
started to dry out and dissolve
The flummoxing tears suspended
and cringed to be dabbed
as the inclement wind sojourned
to listen to its trickling sound
but peace shove embarrassment
into its openly awake wounds
And the thunders still dislimns
the tersely woven conversation
and the lightning still blears
the deterred scope of visions
and the gust and hail goes on
outside our silent parasols
and I catch these moments
on sorry solitary occasions.
poem by Norman Santos
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One Perfect Lie
One. One perfect lie.
Was it told too soon?
And one, one perfect life
Turned to stone.
Cold mercy.
I kneel down by your grave
I kneel down torn and guilty
Did I let you down,
Say goodbye too soon?
And did you understand
My mistake?
Forgive me.
I kneel down by your side
I kneel down scared and helpless
One perfect lie
Wrapped in kindness and tears
I wish I believed in your Heaven
One perfect life
Led by blind faith and trust
If God has a heart He will find you
I'm torn and guilty
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bible Stories: Job (chapter XXXVII)
The angry voice of God rumbles
From forth His mouth: my heart trembles;
In thunderous voice, the voice of God,
With lightning strikes the earth like rod.
God’s works are greater than man thinks;
His wonders happen as He winks;
Man cannot understand God’s mind;
The snow and rain are what men find.
And when the rain is torrential,
Indoors are men- what potential!
And beasts hurry to find refuge,
Under the huge trees from deluge.
God brings the tempest and the cold,
And frost that threatens, young and old;
And hail from clouds can scare the strong;
’Tis God who changes earthen song!
All things must happen as He plans;
All creatures to His tunes must dance;
Mercy or punishment is His;
The righteous always finds His bliss!
So, hearken Job and see His works;
The earth responds by giving jerks;
He huddles clouds to places far,
And ushers peace on men at war.
The skies get spread like mirror fast;
Who can ever find out His past?
He knows things what happen on earth,
And schedules each one’s time of birth.
The splendor of His unseen light,
Can’t reach men’s eyes when clouds are tight;
No man has ever seen Him- God;
Even the wisest can’t- how odd!
He is the Almighty, One Lord,
His awesome majesty hasn’t word!
poem by John Celes
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The End Of Worlds
In a nightmare it came
The vision to draw such fear
I saw cities burn and fall
The air thick with burning sulphur
Heard screams echo from nothing
Amid the roar of fire
The roads of man melted into rivers
Into which fell stone and glass
The sky burnt a blood red
Silhouetted the steel remains
The fallen towers of man
A wind whistled with tempest
Rising the ashes and embers
To blind and burn the eyes
Through hands raised and open fingers
I witnessed with cold numbness
A hell rise to claim the earth
The religions of man became forlorn
From this plight there was no peace
No respite or deliverance
This was as some had prophesised
Albeit but in a ghostly dream
The end of worlds, the end of our time
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Chinese Son
I come to thee, my mother! the black sky
Is swollen with its thunder, and the air
Seems palpable with darkness, save when high,
The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare
Across the heavens, rousing from their lair
The deep-voiced thunders! how the mounting storm
Strides o'er the firmament! yet I can dare
Its fiercest terrors, mother, that my arm
May wind its shield of love around thy sleeping form.
What uproar! raging winds, and smiting hail,
The lightning's blaze, and deaf'ning thunder's crash,
Let loose at once for havoc! I should quail
Before the terrors of the forked flash,
Did not the thought of thee triumphant dash
All selfish fears aside, and bid me fly
To kneel beside thy grave; the rain-drops plash
Heavily round thee from the rifted sky;
Yet I am here, fear not—beside thy couch I lie.
Thou canst not hear me—the storm brings not now,
One terror to thy bosom—yet 't is sweet
To call to mind the smile, wherewith thy brow
Was wont in by-gone days my step to greet,
When o'er the earth the summer tempest beat,
And the loosed thunder shook the heavens—but when
Was there a look of mine that did not meet
A smile of love from thee? the world of men
A friend, like thou hast been, will never yield again.
Oh! mother, mother, how could love like thine
Pass from the earth away! on other eyes,
The glances of maternal love will shine,
And still on other hearts the blessing lies,
That made mine blissful; yet far less they prize
That boon of happiness—and in their glee,
Around their spirits gather many ties
Of joy and tenderness—but all to me
That made the earth seem bright, is sepulchred with thee.
They sometimes strive to lead me to the halls,
Where wine and mirth the fleeting moments wing,
But on my clouded spirit sadness falls,
More darkly then, than when the cave-glooms fling
Their shadows round me, and the night-winds sing
Through the torn rocks their melancholy dirge,
Or when as now the echoing thunder rings
O'er the wide heavens, and the mad gales urge
Unto an answering cry, the overmastering surge.
The storms of nature pass, and soon no trace
Is left to mark their ravage—but long years
Pass lingeringly onward, nor efface
The deep-cut channel of our burning tears,
Or aching scars, that wasting sorrow sears
Upon the breast: lo! even now, a gleam
Of moonlight through the broken clouds appears,
To bless the earth again. I fain would dream,
It was a smile of thine, to bless me with its beam.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Bend In My Meander
February dawned lackadaisically
Letting down her blackest locks
And I was entangled as the moon was
In the brambly foliage of the clouds
I brushed my numb soles
In the cobbled sidewalk
Sequestered from the crowds,
The strident jealous pangs,
And the myriad of innuendos
Fallen leaves scampered along
Swaying with the night's lazy ticking
Passing hastily in the smokescreen
To reach the lamppost's territory
In the light flooded earth
And I was one with them
Counting pawned breaths
In the foggy blanket
Sundering my meander
From all the lovely paces
Towards all the lovely places
The moon drooped, tapped my shoulders
No different from the tree's boughs
Slender and fragile
Without a sign of life
But veritably possessing a little,
It whispered vaguely of salient words
That I am not the only one
Astray in the dark
Pretending to be the lion of the dusk
Shunning the incorporeal lances
But still attending about
The cold silent war
Of unintentional homicide.
poem by Norman Santos
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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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Cry for life
I cry for life, but no one can hear
The unending decent of my painful tears
Haunting screams shatter the blackness of night
While a breaking heart bleeds with no end in sight
Dark memories chase me through time
So I hide from the past
And get lost in my mind
With all love gone, and no light to see
My soul gets torn as it tries to flee,
From the fact that the end is near
Wondering aimlessly in despair
My cold heart turns black
As it forgets to care
Now all alone, within myself
To tired to try, my heart forgotten
It starts to die
With my hearts last beat
A tear slowly falls
As I cry for life
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Christening
Yes, yes there's a new world dawning
Get dressed, quit dreaming you're falling
Take notes and I'll tell you when you got it right
No, no you can leave your attitude
You're the only one it seems to matter to Count votes and you'll see it in a
brand new light
Why can't you be a man about it
Let me turn you into someone new
I'm screaming in a fan
I doubt that any of my words will make it through
This is your christening
Find out what you been missing and
I promise it'll make you fell better
This is your christening
The audience is listening
Baby, baby we're a perfect pairing
Walk in the room and they can't stop staring
I've gotten used to it, I've gotten used to you
You'll never, never land another like me
I think you're clever, please don't try to fight me
Take notes and I'll tell you when you got it right
Why can't you be a man about it
Let me turn you onto something new
I'm screaming in a fan
I doubt that any of my words will make it through
This is your christening
Find out what you been missing and
I promise it'll make you fell better
This is your christening
The audience is listening
This is your christening
Find out what you been missing and
I promise it'll make you fell better
This is your christening
The audience is listening
Why can't you be a man about it
(There's a new world dawning)
We're swimming in a painted fountain
(There's a new world dawning)
This is your christening
Find out what you been missing and
I promise it'll make you fell better
This is your christening
The audience is listening...
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Digression On Number 1, 1948
I am ill today but I am not
too ill. I am not ill at all.
It is a perfect day, warm
for winter, cold for fall.
A fine day for seeing. I see
ceramics, during lunch hour, by
Mir6, and I see the sea by Leger;
light, complicated Metzingers
and a rude awakening by Brauner,
a little table by Picasso, pink.
I am tired today but I am not
too tired. I am not tired at all.
There is the Pollock, white, harm
will not fall, his perfect hand
and the many short voyages. They'll
never fence the silver range.
Stars are out and there is sea
enough beneath the glistening earth
to bear me toward the future
which is not so dark. I see.
Click here to view the painting this poem was written about:
Jackson Pollock's "Number 1 (1948)"
poem by Frank O'Hara
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