"turbulence" poems
Hello, Waitress in the sky
So long her fear to fly
She throws the world a smile
bats her eyes in a wink she's gone
hurling through the clouds
calming others through turbulence
**** the corporate scene
Type A personalities acting mean
humiliating her in a board meeting
so she trades blue for green
Goodbye Waitress in the sky
trade her wings for a diamond ring
So long her need for speed
racing on the runway
She was flying with the birds but now
she's swimming with the fishes
Deflated dreams of broadening horizons
a-popped balloon and a rolling stone
nowhere to go but everywhere
Oh Lord, she won't get the answer tonight
Oh sky, give her the strength to fly
Oh Queen, find her a smart place to run
and that's why she took US 66 for a drive
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
unto thee i
burn incense
the bowl crackles
upon the gloom arise purple pencils
fluent spires of fragrance
the bowl
seethes
a flutter of stars
a turbulence of forms
delightful with indefinable flowering,
the air is
deep with desirable flowers
i think
thou lovest incense
for in the ambiguous faint aspirings
the indolent frail ascensions,
of thy smile rises the immaculate
sorrow
of thy low
hair flutter the level litanies
unto thee i burn
incense,over the dim smoke
straining my lips are vague with
ecstasy my palpitating ******* inhale the
slow
supple
flower
of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee
unto
whom i
burn
olbanum
16.6k
.
*Curious minds,
splashing under
moonlight
With
outstretched kisses
pulsating yellow,
Over the awestruck
magical
rainbow,
Feverishly tracking each
supernova
on sight.*
***Resting the moment
on a
cresting knoll,
With
an audience of several
time-worn
rocks.
Whilst the
whistling sirens
in the winds do call...
Wasting away
the ticks of
worldly
clocks.***
*Evading with class,
all
heart's turbulence,
Craters of sadness
congeal
in thin air,
Glamorous amnesia
falls
with cadence,
Eyes wide shut,
susurrating
a
lost prayer.*
***Lifeless gazes
yield
only
abrasive tears.
As erratum
catches up
with its
gaping maw.
Hurling
its anguish
in
rips and shears,
Bleeding out
of
singing wounds
so raw.
But...
time carries confident,
its stock of
soothing balm.
Latent doses
hidden
within
invisible vials.
Welcoming vision
with its
sunlit palms,
Staving the longing
for the
fear of trials.***
*Now hushed
remain the remorseful
battle trenches,
Deprived of their own
victims
save gaping wounds,
Only
faint faith
commanding
corroded limp
forces,
Stirring
light away
from
all
agony
and
doom.*
Moonskittles
ryn
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
I am a tempest,
the most violent of
winds whipping around
without concern for any
who surround me.
I am a volcano,
the lava of my emotions
exploding up and over
to seep throughout
every nook and crevice.
I am a typhoon,
my gale force winds
showing mercy to
neither sea nor land as
I rip-roar over it all.
And you…
you are the halcyon tranquility
I've been searching for
all along, the serenity needed
to calm my frenzied turbulence
with but a stroke of your lips,
leaving me breathless and
my winds settled at long last.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
The candle light flickers with such intimacy,
Celeste bodies colliding in allure,
Leaving only marks of compassion,
Turbulence and vile noted under the moon light,
As people envy our love in the other room,
The charisma and sparkle in our synchronization,
The heart melting and charming sensations,
My feet limp and my head spins,
With every stroke and touch that you trace along my back,
Goose bumps seem to increment,
****** emerges that weaken the chains in my soul,
Hangover
Strengthening my love and awareness towards you,
Enthralling enchant,
Chamber of secrets revealed,
A new dawn seen,
Replete words,
Embelleshed and kept,
Diffusing angst and reviving love beat,
Singing me deep lullabies as I sleep.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
INFJ - T
I grow exhausted at the exuberance of crowds.
Not able to ignore that nagging voice that whispers the evils of them
Feelings of fear overpower the simple formula of conversation
Jutting into remind me of my appearance compared to theirs -
Too weak to fight against it.
It’s not easy to speak my mind.
Never daring to even introduce myself
Following a very strict line
Just taking each day step by step -
Thinking someday I’ll be able to explain.
Inside, I judge everything.
New situations make the feelings shake
Fear and turbulence expand within
Jaw clenched and sweaty palms -
Thin skin begins to bruise.
Introverted and intuitive
Nervous, yet calm
From day to day
Just a puppet -
To a never-ending nightmare
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
*How strange, the pull that tugs my heart, toward a distant sea.
How haunting are the sound of sea gulls crying eerily.
The allegory still remains, of timeless waves in life
Turning rock to shifting sands, the sea winds, like a knife.
And yet, amidst the turbulence, serenity and love
The struggle of the sea and shore, that fits so like a glove.
The music breaks my heart in two, this ballad by the bay.
And I shall hold it in my soul, this song we used to play.
I still can hear the rollers as they broke upon the beach.
And even though I’ve gone back home, my memory, they reach.*
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
i share my name with a hurricane
how fitting
a set of bruised shins in running tights
who can't get much of anything right
and still hasn't remembered where she set her drink
that's me
i sometimes think they should've named me tiffany
or brittany
or stephany
something pretty and normal
maybe then i would have been a ballerina
instead of just a mess
in a second-hand dress
sometimes i swear
the wind calms when i laugh
and the thunder cracks
when i finally let go
and let myself fade
back into the sky that shaped me
i make it rain
some things never change
not names
or headstones
or birthdays
and some things always do
the sky shifts slightly
setting a yellow kite to sail
and a pair of hawks to soar
maybe they named the storm after me
so that i could see
how beautiful turbulence can be
maybe i just wasn't looking right
besides
a rose by any other name
wouldn't seem as special
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Everytime I close my eyes,
Sunday afternoon comes to mind.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
there is only white noises.
The Sunday in my head is always sunny;
rarely it rains.
When it rains on Sunday,
I am reminded of school uniform;
sweaty and sticky,
but it is still Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I can smell Sunday.
The smell of Sunday in my head—
consists of jasmine, pandan, and milk.
The Sunday in my head rarely rains.
When it rains, it smells like **** and soil.
The sunny side of my Sunday is not always bright—
and my wet Sunday is not always gloomy.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself tracing Sunday.
I run my fingers through the odds of—
possibilities and the ambience of the present.
You see, I cannot imagine anyone but myself—
in my Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see no one.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see silhoutte of myself.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself leaving trails.
Everytime I close my eyes,
It was all in my head all along.
Blessed with the odds,
my Sunday goes by very slowly;
so slow sometimes I caught myself in turbulence.
From violent shower to the still lake,
I avoid meeting myself on the foreground.
If I ever crossed path in the middle,
I would be non-existent;
none of this would matter,
and there will never be my Sunday.
Sarah Radzi
In Between Four Walls,
19.08.2018,
01:56
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
for all the turbulence i sought
and sought
i was pretty good
i was so good
i battled through all the chaos
my kite was finally flying
but i snorted so much ritalin
my pupils are tar pits
and she calls me a hedonist but
i don't know what that means
i do know that
i fear neither death
nor consequence
you can treat me like your last meal
always at my most decadent
i remember i need to eat
then delete the thought
the only thing that sustains me is the rushing
by now
you should know that
it's all about me
we did the maths remember?
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 11:13 PM UTC
Remember that afternoon on the ferry
Ride to Nantucket
The labrador who fell asleep on my foot
And the kid who vomited
As we stood at the rail,
Mist in our faces
Foam that curled
From the keel in swirls
A whole world in that turbulence
That no one would ever know of -
Focused on the Grey Lady's
Promise that a warm comforter
Would melt us together again.
And it did, amid the strangers
We brushed past
On the cobbles at the wharf.
Back at the dock,
You greeted old demons
And so did I
But kept them secrets
From each other
On the long ride
Through pine forests
As you slept, I drove
Back home.
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 8:34 PM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
Tears
shining like precious pearls,
from the corner of your oyster eyes,
trickle in transparent torrents
into the sea of sadness
and drown in the
turbulence of the
wailing whirlpool…
Like jewels, so bright
saline stars stream down
from the sky of your face
to perform
dance of the dire distress
salsa of sad solitude
ballet of broken heart
waltz of weeping emotions
tango of tearful longing…
From the dark veil of clouds
like melting snowflakes,
crystal drops
roll down
your cheeks,
to unfathomable depths
of your heavy heart…
Simple release of sentiments
from overflowing well of eyes
shed silent tears of agony,
streaming down,
trails of shattered dreams
leave traces of hurt and pain…
Lifting your sad face,
with a touch of warmth and love
I wipe your fragile tears.
You smile -
and they reincarnate
as beautiful tears
of happiness…
Copyright 2011 © Bharat B. Trivedi
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 3:45 AM UTC
In the turbulence of a Storm
My heart rests upon a Rock
In a place where the grass is long
Swaying passively to a breeze
In a place where the earth is warm
Lit eternally by a furnace
In a place where a stoic Rock
Submits to its desires for me
In a place where the frozen rain
Melts away in an instant
Dissolving the hovering myths of pain
To free my lonely heart yet again
This is a place for love to grow
Forever, together and more
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
In his dreams the Vally in the throes of efflorescence call out
in a language heart alone understands;
from the hanging bridge over Ganga, he views the ice-capped peaks,
Vally's ***** extravagance and the river's turbulence.
The river runs too deep, at times he finds,
the currents treacherously strong,
from the window of his *Ashram, the view is clear.
She bathes naked, alone on a step submerged in water,
eyes feast on her moonlit curves,
the pleasures skin deep, camouflage the existential dilemmas ! he smiles
In memory his Guru speaks:"Eat only those fruits that make one immortal"
Yet another Himalayan journey in search of the fruit tree unknown
It's too late to redefine, life and love when the avalanche thunders above
on his lonesome path, every step uphill is fraught with slippery stones,
one way leads to the top, to bathe in the light of the star reaching down
Some days end in too long nights, too cold, the sun shows up hesitant,
her body has the warmth that reaches to his icy depths,
a ****** alone could penetrate, but it still wouldn't melt
Himalayan silence, chant of Ganga, the ghost of a ******
that follows him like a faithful dog, are all these fragments of a dream
or realities stringed together from many different planes?
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.
Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gale outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.
The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.
Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.
Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.
Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.
The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal
sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.
Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Without
your smiling face my love
So rare now to find in this place
Without
your Glasgow banter
What remains is left speechless and misplaced;
I am a ship adrift without its anchor
Within
deep blue ocean eyes
that look straight into me
In ways and wonders and for why
Without
I can not take back what was said
nor’ parting waves and late goodbyes
now lost to the turbulence
of new experience under foreign skies
Within
I almost hear your warm whispers still
Without
it creeps in my ears to replace wax with made-up doubts
Play round-a-bouts upon my brain
But listen intently anyway:
In case she might whisper it again
Within
a tender touch that knows my gentle being
The passions unwrapped as such
By fingertips
And a stolen kiss upon my lips
And all that I remember seeing
Without
I am the frosted breath of a Scottish chill
With
a voiceless shout
No exit out
I await
that which is meant for me
Within
Without
or cast
adrift at sea
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
Ten.
These are the worst kinds of nights. The kind where you're gagging on your own breath that's hitching in your throat. The kind where you open your mouth to speak but you can't get those words out. To say them makes them true.
Nine.
The rain pounds against your window pain and the voice inside your head doesn't stop no matter how hard you cover your ears. You're screaming until you feel your throat bleed but you can't shut off the noise inside you. You can't stop the yelling within.
Eight.
You wonder if anyone ever notices your raspberry painted smile never quite reaches your eyes and you wonder if anyone ever wonders why your sleeves are stained red.
Seven.
Cold. You feel so cold like the wind that rattles your bones and you can't remember what it feels like to sit in the sun.
Six.
Rip the things from the walls. Tear off the bed sheets. Shatter the mirrors and blacken your own eyes. The hurricane that's made its home inside you needs destruction to keep on living, but you don't know how to **** it.
Five.
you're falling to your knees and god **** it stop crying. Stop! Don't you dare ask for help. Tears and running down your face and you can't make them quit. Crimson runs down your arms with your hands clasped in prayer, you swear you'll never do it again.
Four.
The only thing left in you for now is the hollow feeling. Your thoughts are whirling around the room gaining turbulence.
Three.
Pick it up, rinse it under cold water, tape it up as best as you can. No one told you when you poured your heart out it might fall to the floor and shatter
Two.
if you smile tomorrow no one will know, and you could be beautiful. Honestly. Maybe someone could love you
One.
your thoughts and feelings come rushing back into your body and soul. something breaks deep within you. your whole heart falling down. Irreversibly damaged in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
‘Twas during inner turmoil that a certain yearning arose
Whispers of breakage reaching deeper as time goes
From the disillusionment of reality it was forged
Of seething rage the desires hunger gorged
In following certain conformities felt like being a prisoner
The will to resist the motions of many being aimed to muster
To not be like a tree that has to be cut or uprooted just to move
To be driven by reasons that to only ones viewpoint can behoove
Looking at another view of the coming uncertainty
As a pathway to many possibilities with regards to unpredictability
That stopping a tragedy is sometimes not the thing to do
Lest one forgets that the phoenix must burn down to rise anew
Or that Ragnarok is followed by a great rebirth
Who can know what revelations a raging flood might unearth?
Being lost might as well be the way to find an elusive longing
The remedy to the Anhedonia closely and ominously looming
When being chained to the rhythm just compares to an inner futile feeling
Knowing that a greater horizon is missed by the act of settling
A bet on the odds that epiphany might be found in whatever form
To behold serendipity actually being brought by the coming inner storm
In using the great idleness to plan the restoring of a balance
And to see clearly without the feeling of rushing pressure and turbulence
The path and pace may change to the deeper quest not yet ceased
In bringing forth the long sought betterment through a cataclysmic release.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
That inner calm
Is in us all
We tend to focus
On the things
That distract us
The things that keep us
From returning
To the source
Returning
To that inner calm
So that when life becomes turbulent
You will have that inner calm inside of yourself
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
impale olympic skies! their pacific
avarice, turbulence, mai-tai-dyed
oxycontin contradictions pull out
deep convictions to rift meteoric
and fall apart.
happiness apart.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
When I think of all the tears and turbulence life has
given me, it sometimes makes me hard for
me to forgive this world
I usually would find peace in the solitude
and my waters would be still. I'd
honestly prefer that than to
feel alone amidst this
sea of life
But now, I've learned to dance with the
naiads by the Springs of Many Lives.
With her hand in mind, the life-stream
strums and begins to form rings
Each ripple made is a bond that
grows stronger in time
Each one beaming
with many hues
Now I see, the true beauty of life.
The waters will run hot, cold and
warm. We all will dance
different dances.
But the Naiads show me the beautiful
bonds I have made with my fellow
Kings and Queens on HP from all
walks of life who wear their
crowns with pride.
That is a life I yearn for.
For my diadem to be made of
pure starlight.
For me to have such understanding
makes me shed true
tears of joy.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
*Our many voyages
of desert and sea
the harshness observed..
smooth cushioned water
becomes raging storm..
a splitting violence
this external turbulence
kindles jolts of anger
then fear and supplication..
finally the Question..
tumult and danger
seem forceful prompts
suggesting surrender to
veils of indifference..
yet some find now
new possibility arising
to trace one's journey:
jagged roaring storm
stimulates and brightens
fading light within..
in these extremes
depths awaken heights
new sisterhood appears..
in one's journey log
a backward look
records hidden leaps
of courage and faith..
real awareness
of one's precarious
life String...*
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
I sunk to the bottom of the ocean once. Though it wasn't really all that grand. Everything that I saw was either shrouded in darkness, or a silty haze. The water was cold and the currents were violent. They ****** me too and fro.
Now, don't get me wrong, I like it there at the bottom of the ocean, it's calm and it's dark and it soothes the fires of a soul like mine. The passage there however is the part that hurts so much, for before you may sink into the silky silt of the ocean floor and become neighbors with the ***** you must descend through the turbulence and the dangerous anglerous fish that inhabit the places betwixt.
I suppose the hardest part about the journey is saying goodbye to the sunshine that you grew to love, after having spent time, from the ocean floor.
Someone drags you up and you see the sun and you start to laugh more, and you start to love more and everything starts to feel warm and beautiful again. You look at that someone that brought you up and wrought you into shape and you see such beauty. They shine like the sun, no, they are even better.
But sometimes,
They abandon us.
That is not to say we are doomed to sink back down, they do not hold us here, as we do not hold them. We are free to remain on the surface with the sunlight.
Most of us choose to jump back in, though.
Let the ocean swallow us whole once again.
Some swim back to the surface, determined to, perhaps, be more than a friendly newspaper conversation with a crustacean.
However, many just live there, unwilling, unable, to go anywhere else.
I sunk, to the bottom of the ocean once. Or twice, and a few times after that. Always finding a reason to swim back, sometimes I am dragged back. No matter which way though and honestly, how matters not, I always end up back on that beach.
Waiting, watching the ocean. Wondering, pondering the possibilities and if I should wade back out and sink down once again.
The ocean surely is a frightful thing.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
I am thankful for the struggle.
Only in death,
in the turbulence of losing everything that I am,
do I feel alive.
Existing in moments such as these,
where the continuum of ones own way of life
isn't guaranteed,
it allows me to have an overwhelming appreciation
for what I have here,
in this moment.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC