Thunderstorm poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best thunderstorm poems ever written. Read all poems about thunderstorm.
'Attention please! Attention please!
Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze!
Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake!
Your health, your very life's a ...
I speak not
As I feel
Speaking is not essential
Silence speaks for itself
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
She wore a 'terra-cotta' dress,
And we stayed, because of the pelting storm,
Within the hansom's dry recess,
Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless
A moment the wild swallows like a flight
Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high,
Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky.
The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight,
Week after week it shrank and shrank
as the fierce drought fiend drank and drank,
till on the bone-dry bed revealed
the mud peeled;
Nature smiles in Spring
Pulls at our heart string
as greenery's hued in greener tinge
Having had an everlasting effect
backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk
underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow
woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile
Thy living Touch
Dive me deep into thy thought,
Day and night with dream and desire,
He rode through the woods on a big blue ox,
He had fists as hard as choppin' blocks,
Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall...that's Paul.
My horse had been lamed in the foot
In the rocks at the back of the run,
So I camped at the Murderer's Hut,
At the place where the murder was done.
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
O traveler poet
Read your poem with the last autumn thunderstorm
to the sleepless long night
For no one will listen to the wound of poetry any more
From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Here and there
(dedicated to Karin Anderson, a great poet at poemhunter)
क ् ल ै ब ् य ं म ा स ् म ग म
प ा र ् थ न ै त त ् त ् व य ् य ु प प द ् य त े
The road had steepened and the sun sharpened on the high
ridges; the stream probably was dry,
Something of heavens ever burns in it,
I like to watch its wondrous facets' growth.
It speaks with me in fate's non-seldom fits,
imagine a bolt of lightning
out of the blue so blue
My joys I share to you
I am giving it to you
My smiles my laugthers
I have found no place that I can call mine, in these thing call life
For all that I wanted, didn't find me,
And all that finds me, I did not want.
In-between these rubbles, I came across time
Flowers bloom and then petals crumble!
Fire ignites and turns everything to ashes!
People laugh to end up crying!
Tree bears the burden of fruit and others enjoy
The earth made a drift movement
Like a paradise shift
Here comes the thunderstorm that amaze our world
Nature is good, life is beautiful
Forest will groan
On the eminence
A bird will be flapping its wings
Anxiously into the soul
Waking up feeling alive and feeling the sun on my face. That's what counts
Walking outside under a tin roof while a thunderstorm is rolling by, that counts too
What knife waves itself
through an oil-charged night -
and this my friend… is life
conceptual elegance and analytical symmetry
don't be fooled, don't be deceived…
don't be betrayed by its distracting perception of simplicity
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