Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"blustered" poems
_________________________________________________________________________ * While the dawn storm blows, Baghdad is calling Soldiers stationed at the boundaries The houses are on blaze! Still, Desert wind is blowing so unkind! While the white ghost’s laughs, Baghdad is crying Bombs and shells blustered in the cities The huts are in flames! Still, Desert wind is blowing so unkind! While the dusk light fades, Baghdad is burning Sounds of boots repeat at the villages The Mosque is crowded! Still, Desert wind is blowing so unkind! While the dark night falls. The debris of war is floating Date palms line alone the shore in grief The women are being ***** Still, Desert wind is blowing so unkind! While the dawn wind blows, Mother’s breast bleeds Troupes watch in silence from top Blood is remixed with soil ! Still, Desert wind is blowing so unkind ! While the dusk light fades. Pregnant Mother’s are lamenting, Armored men near the entry ports. Father lost, Mother ***** ! Still, Desert wind is  blowing so unkind ! * __________________________________________________________________________ By Williamsji Maveli email [email protected] www.williamsgeorge.com www.moonmakers.com __________________________________________________________________________
0
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
The Desert wind.....
What does Eunice bring on these blustered, raging winds? Busted fences put up in haste, a forlorn balloon cut loose, with a smiley face harking back to those asymmetric aceeeed days when polarity was frowned upon: what’s your name where you from what you done? A man cut from rich serge can be employed to gaslight blackened eyes to white, but the **** in Kent’s hedges don’t lie
0
Feb 18, 2022
Feb 18, 2022 at 6:50 AM UTC
You seein’ iss?
Jagged green talons, shoot through gold dust, marred only by the glimmer of the mid day solstice. Curving misty granules Mask temperamental land: Tracing paper haze Swirls of glistening sand. Bending hills blend Precious pallid dust With one layer of Whipping wind. Your blustered footprint Get's carried away; Bullied by nature's Ethereal motion. You’ve walked for miles Dry and lagging among Miniature valleys of Earth's Smoothest round stalactite. Hear the luscious, Climactic ocean breeze Speak salty psalms, from Deepest blue parchment. The serrated cliff-face Positioned between The vast curvature of the sea and dunes. Dogtooth black vertigo With specks of white refrain, Which drip back down To the tenacity of the waves As tides rise, patience falls. Worn away, smooth again As a brief, conjugative Swill of realisation Washes out lifes impurities Cleansing boredom into Calm; see a metropolis Submerge in the tide. The landmarks and history Are but bricks, mortar And washed up stories Which float away to sea.
0
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
The Golden Landscape
Pale as the pumpkin seed hulls. Salted covered with tears. Blustered bloom enchanter. Grinned, and abolished sins. Accursed and haunted, those who pestered. Engulfed in snowy splendour!
0
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Joyous
While sitting on a hill one day Remembering my days of play, I saw a curious sight That I'll try to recall with all my might. The day was clear and bright and shining The horizon, fuzzy with white lace lining, And as the clear sun shone and the wind blustered As I lay surrounded by field mustard I dreamt of my childhood Filled with stories and exploring wildwood And when my eyes opened, a gift to see! An array of floating dreams for me. Clouds Puffy and nostalgic of my days running with an old paper kite Days of longing and silly spite Twilights of catching fireflies in the brush Nights when the birds were hushed. And now I saw them, floating above me As they did for little me And I searched among them for pictures Intently as a priest with holy scriptures. There’s a puppy, a rocket too, A fly, a cat, and a shoe, A tree, a phone, and a shell, Two bicycles, and a bell. And that beautiful day Where I was a child at play Watching those puffy, huge, inviting white, nostalgic, so soul igniting, Clouds
0
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
Sitting on a Hill
The sun shone... and the icicles wept to tell their sad story, drip by drip. How long ago, when they were small droplets, they were mustered into gather clouds by the weather chiefs, blustered about the sky, blown to cold North, until at last forecasted, when they were bullied to tears..... enough to drench that freezing day.
0
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:26 AM UTC
Depression in a Cold Climate
You grabbed my scarf in the silent shadows Of that wintery night. To bring me closer to your open soul To bring me warmth with your soft breath And all at once, piercing winds And tingling fingers Were unknown to us Just as the rest of the world- Vanished. So too my longing- Vanished. And I found a warmth only Once imagined, in the depths of my Dreams. And now I no longer fear the blustered wind At my back For you are there And it is but not a dream.
0
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
One Wednesday Night in January
Light is everywhere, it is everything mirroring off rock, demolishing ambit cat pawed with downdraft, blustered by gale the channels scud havocs of pyrite, The sky, huge an impossibility of blue, defies description words are formed tried and retired tossed on a blather of gust, unlistened. A syrup of larks tongue, -an ash of a song-, Is all that is heard on the day..
0
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
West North West
~ O’ blustered winds - of coarseness flow Upon these lips atone Yon murmured fields of slowly strolled To quest as if unknown Lest I call these visions deemed A’ crying o’er the heart Breadth o’ mine own eyes hath seen Nor fancied o’ thy part It hath been of sorrowed sleep O’ cast of humbled dreams That I, for one ~ hath felt the thrill A’ wash of what it seems For as with all ~ who’ve angels smiled And to the long of mind Within my heart thy taste is real Of you that I now find For thee, I say ~ I now must weep Thy joy engulfs my soul To breathe is lost from what I see This heart o’ my control Happiness doth shed these tears ‘Tis moisture meant to show O’er all that I hath known this past My heart doth love thee so I pray that I shall not awake Yon beauty calls my sleep For if mine eyes should find the sun I fear that I shan’t keep This love angelic I hath found So forged this slumbered dream As is each day ~ of years to come Your love doth come to me
0
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
As is each day ~ of years to come
I'm lost in a whirlwind Flustered, blustered, Tossed and turned Churned. Then I hit the ground. I still don't know whether I'm lost or found, But I've weathered the storm.
0
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Shitfuckery
You’ve recalled what it’s like to be cold in this blustered autumn wind your fingers may be privileged to flick a switch on central heating and ignore the insistent, shivering world while it continues to divide and burn
0
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 7:22 AM UTC
Chilling
The shine is diminishing. Love has vanished into thin air. The distance has made them lacklustre and the fondness totally blustered. Hunting ways to come closer, Folly, they were never made for each other. It was a mere infatuation. They decided to take to another level, but like a sandstorm in a desert The affinity of sand kissed off. Each disease has a distinct medicine, Likewise, love needs coherence to bear in. A connection of not hearts but souls, Not words but roads. Love is a disease because it's cure is minimal and the dose of prevention is superficial.
0
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
Love.
Rumbling Rolling Dense Clouds Thick Clustered Blustered Pounding Lamppost - shuddering winds Meet explosion of sunset illumination Too much To take in The air The light The sounds The temperature Bodies Viscerally Eternally Alert All alive Living in the extra ordinary
0
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 4:42 AM UTC
Rumbling
Shouldered cold bent deep in grims of collar turns to maddened hash of blustered sleet the walk to wear is work itself, A solemn adamantine morning, pleads me to ignore the well of failing human kindness, by this hand I try to see predicaments of alder whip lacuna from the mindless face that beauty is but symmetry thus ,crudely overrated and then again there's Winter Jasmine, understated, famined stem emblazoned with the gemstones of its flower now the winter sour, sweetens cracks the lip a timid noise pouring forth, some golden ratio, sulphur trill of banished voice
0
Feb 16, 2024
Feb 16, 2024 at 7:37 PM UTC
Some Golden Ratio