Tempest poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of tempest poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on tempest are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
YOUR COFFEE MUG still sits where you left it, half-empty, atop your favorite porcelain, brim smudged with a curious combination of dried froth and pink lipstick. It’s my little testimony, you know, to a life well led and a union
“Who thinks tempests dance too quickly?” Asked the Master, moustache thickly Brimming, bristling with indignation, “Consign the lepers to damnation! None may tarry here who can’t Wield a terror so puissant That all the diseased vermin flee In the dread
Are you the gentle breeze that, Wafting timidly o’er the arid lands, Bring with it the bounteous seeds Of life, scattering them far and wide Over barren plains and greying crags, Altering the countenance of what we Perceived originally to
Dear muse, I penned this verse with feather quill, To gently praise your beauty of renown, My words to float aloft your gaze until, They softly kiss your eyes like thistledown. One single thought of you is all I need,
Rain on my pane, Making a mirage of raindrops, You may drizzle, Come as a downpour, Or take me into a tempest. Touch me when lonely, Weave into my heart, Dripping with comfort, Soaking the soul, In your silent ways.
Let me bequeath my fond memories to you Before I depart for the vermilion horizon Beyond the deep blue blur where the birds return at dusk… Memories of lazy winter afternoons beneath clear blue skies Rummaging through curious branches of
A skylight begins the apartheid in ironed out differences. At the shores skulls have reappeared. Blue flames were eating away the green carbon of the dying giants. Fake photosynthesis was canning the skimmed breeze in books and encapsulated euthanasia was
Knowing you was not difficult; Coming closer to your heart Was tough, but overcoming My nervousness made it easy Just like a deep breath To calm a tempest within. Unknowing you is impossible; More so when you are around, Resisting
There once was an imp whose appearance was vain, his behavior was foolish, even his speech and imposing mannerisms were maimed! From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind had once been blessed, indentured to serve the superlative
This life takes that which may be taken and avows that Which is without comprehension, Embodiment unreasoned, seeking purpose, it Navigates with pain and pleasure, Yet not with both in equal measure, rather as season dictates Upon which emotions soar
And so ’tis done – drench is gone Salted spray no longer flies the wild air That grim Tempest, that did wax and surge deep, now makes only whispered remembrance of its fury and troubles not the delicate house of
O love, reveal your true state, Thou who reigns on human souls, Lording all passions of sublime mold, Leaving the lovers dreaming to prate. Thy shapeless presence makes us powerless To overcome the breathing necessities, manoeuvring souls twin in flesh
Let me douse this flame with tears. My nightingale will sing no more. Ringed by dragons, I decide to tie knot with a tempest. When the birds start dying the frightened choir becomes dumb. I wait for the butterfly effect:
The Seed of love planted by the river of amity hoping for an perpetuity life, Creating roots for the foundation of our love. The root of our love grows with a boundless destination in quest for vigor not to let
A unique, irreverent intruder: in my dying dreams, of a domain beyond the gifts. The corridor was full of specters in boiling air. The DNA will not cover the naked strands of desires. Put out to sea, my boat in
My friend the Wind- is a lady who changes- Personas with every dress! You can hear her voice- go up and down with- every lapel and pleat! Chagrined about her coif- she turns into a dust devil. Ginned again with
(If Mother Earth could speak…) I’m the first light of dawn setting fire to the skies, the awe that ends with a soft, sated sigh. I’m the slow, gentle sway of ancient, lofty trees, branches of life filled with wonders
A twisted journey starts on wings after the end of the road. Ambition sits in corner, nonchalantly and a tempest hollers around the spires. Broken down from parched ceiling a mural turns into a mundane knife. Lifts the rage, of
Nineteen is leaving it is a blue thing a toxic sea that for nearly a year Rising in me now drips from fingere tips into buckets morning buckets dinner buckets buckets at the bedside buckets I have too much pride
A harlequin parrot as free as a butterfly Flapp’d her rainbow wings in the azure sky Boasting her grandeur and flamboyance To mates devoid of charm and elegance She settled on the fecund oak tree’s bough Whose bare branches in
The shift to vernal tone starts a standoff with eyelashes. A sickle moon begins harpooning the stars. The unorthodox microlove brings out a ciliated canon of faithless interior. The gods were going to become weary of snowfall. Punctuating the silence,
Thou bare beauty’s bride of immortals Thou enrapt silence of mystery, who can’t tell thy flowery history And Fair Youth? And unstinted admiration thou bear, All profuse versifiers to thy truth begotten, They lie; of thy mystic gracious beauty, swear.
I sit by my window every morning, Wanting, willing to write a poem. The pen in my hand yearns to touch the blank paper, Like a lover yearns to touch the beloved. The paper breathes patiently, The warm sun brushes
Upon the land far away is something different I dare say the look of sandy beaches and palm trees are set on top of flowing sea reeds where in that distance of the land is something different seen at hand
My notebook is ultimate power; My pen is my sword as I write the names of Earth’s human scum. Their faces flash through my mind. And soon they will meet their “maker.” God had told Abraham: “Thou shalt not kill.”
Let flow, the drops of love Over the meadows of John Donne’s verse Inside the crafts of Dewey’s penning And Milton’s insight On the ripple tranquility of Shelley’s words Bouncing of Browning’s beetles Shallow clattering of Shakespeare’s sonnets Through the
After so much struggle Throughout the year , After achieving success That you had feared, It’s time to cherish. To be thankful for the good Experiences you had, To be grateful for the worst experiences from which you learned ,
When we hum and lose the tune We always have hated it Enjoying the music And tapping our enjoying feet! Music fills my heart,music fills my ears With drums and beat It may begin With hums and vocals it may
Who are forgivers? Forgiveness belongs to those with a big heart, people of a strong heart, and powerful in mind; ambassador of peace and jocund, those with heart of kindness and people with milk of benediction. Can you forgive? Yes!
Faint is my expression, out of breath, chastised and drowned in whirl pools of confusion. Neither here nor am I there, in the clouds or the bottom of the ocean, whirl pools of confusion. A year be a day, an
The last bit of cigarette from his hand drops into the ashtray. So does mine. Are they making love to each other, As we are? Love, need, passion, kisses, skin, climax. Are their thoughts like ours, burnt and spent? As
Well I feel your trauma I’m no stranger to the misery of a broken heart and the drama you try to avoid everyday…every night moving in the same circles you’ve been moving in for so long…blind in the dark I
Love is laughter. Love is knowing that you have someone to turn to. Love is looking at her and thinking she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Love is being silly sometimes, but that makes you love her more.
The baggage that each of us carry around We keep quiet making no sound With laden eyes and tethered souls Who likes a blanket full of holes What’s there to prove to this world anyway Just enjoy it all till