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above
   below
blue wat
   ers flow
    
(the sky
   is blue
? is N
   O 2)

i pray
   a wish
each man
   a fish

yo Jo
   nah's whale
's a tall
   true tale

(don't sink
   a scrim
shaw bit
   but swim)

may A
   hab's Bel
burn burn
   in hell
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2021
~
Inundate your love
for this sacred village,
on bended knee,
facing the freshet,
supplicated hands pressed together,
one of grace, one of charity,
lips of sweet euphony,
whispering into the morning sun,
a language deep and pounding
inside your heart's timpani,
abiding like unsheltered waters
that nourish the vine

~
Capel Celyn was a rural community to the north west of Bala in Gwynedd, Wales, in the Afon Tryweryn valley. The village and other parts of the valley were flooded in 1965 to create a reservoir, Llyn Celyn, in order to supply Liverpool and Wirral with water for industry. Capel is Welsh for chapel, while celyn is Welsh for holly.
Herena Rosas Aug 2021
I demolished my own walls to let you in

They warned and admonished me from the danger of your existence

Yet somehow, I was still enthralled by the unprecedented phenomena you brought

I disregard their warnings and entered your danger zone

My soul found solace and felt mitigated in your arms

I am not terrified of your tremendous storms

I am willing to embrace your disastrous nature

My love, I am your victim and it's a privilege to submerge in you

I accept the severity of the damage that it might caused me

I am the sufferer and you are the love that caused

losses

terror

blood

And still those reasons will not restrain me from loving a catastrophe like you

My love,

It is my responsibility to insure my safety and well-being

You are the flood

And I promise to calm you.
he was the flood.
Norman Crane Aug 2021
ants protest the rain
in vain / water flows / terrain
specked with ant remains
Thomas Steyer Jul 2021
I looked out the window, goodness me
torrential rainfall in Germany

on the TV a reporter said
people are missing, many are dead

aerial views of the devastation
leave no room for the imagination

they show the extend of the flood
which left the area covered in mud

horrendous stories and detailed accounts
explain what happened and no one doubts

this is a direct result of the climate change
experts say, it's neither surprising nor very strange
s y kalindara Jun 2021
I still can't say your name aloud,
I've got my tongue trapped in a cirrus cloud.
I still push on and play pretend,
to the planet's eye, you never happened.
But it's times like this,
where my mind swims,
and the ripples of mementos flow
then come casually crashing at my back door.
And though I keep it sealed,
you seep in,
flooding floors,
and all at once,
I'm sinking.


Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Thinking about the girl who did more than break my heart at 14.
Zywa May 2021
The sea is whitened,

the sand's blown up in the air –


secure from the flood.
Collection "From Sacred Scriptures"
Ashley Kay Mar 2021
Like water I flood to
Your lowest elevation
Pooling in spaces
Left wild and uninhabited,

I sink to the depths
Of your valleys
Rejuvenating
Indigo reverie,

Others denied you rain
So it was buried, offered
To grief and almost
Reclaimed by the core,

As the ghost
Of the American Buffalo
I thunder my hooves
Into your malleable soil,

Crackling light to the soul
Of the spirit, man
Believed he won
Long ago
Ashleykay2021

Two days of flash floods and the experience was powerful. And... was the west ever won?
Sharon Talbot Mar 2021
Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.
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