Quotes about gust
Daze Of The Moiré Waves
Wave after wave, gust after gust
The phantoms that lurks and haunts
In this sea of treacherous hands
Waving for a slow dance, for riddance
Had their clandestine machinations
That endlessly rubbed sand into sand
Until they are finer than their whistling
And whiter than their demented dreams,
And surged tides after hungry tides
Devouring the clambering suppurations
That rivaled the pitch fathoms to rise
Only to dissipate in the endless toppling
And become tiny bubbles of forgetting
The phosphorescent shore and its descant
That fringes the lonely sea and her haze
Calls gust after gust, wave after wave
And with this drought I held in my heart
Abandoned by the arsenal of flames
The daze of the perfidious sea calls upon
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poem by Norman Santos
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Paranoid Schizophrenia
I am looking ahead as so many are following behind me
Everyone's hands reaching out to hurt me somehow-
I feel are manipulating my thoughts-
People looking ahead and so many following behind me
On this mesmerizing spring-like day- I wonder why this world is
Out to menace and persecute me? A gentle breeze blows and dogwood is blossoming,
Daffodil stems rocking gently within a gentle gust of wind-
While the sky is cloudless and I can feel the warmth of the sun brightly shining, and as
Its rays are gently caressing my shoulders; all I can do is weep-
I am looking ahead as so many are following closer and closer behind me-
Though it couldn't be a more picturesque and
Amazingly beautiful day- This world is not a safe place to live in-
This world is replete with wicked, conniving souls
Who wish me none but harm and desire to only betray me-?
Walking before me everyone looks into my eyes as
My mind has become literature to the public-Solitude to me is the only safe key to
My existence in this cruel and threatening world, of which
I was born to be a sole survivor and
Three billion people wish me nothing but harm-
Looking ahead I see people glaring at me through their eyes
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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Christmas-Eve
I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning
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A Gust Of Love
My heart a window your love passes through
flying open as your love's wind blew
breaking, shattering glass into pieces
your love passes through as my pang increases.
When the wind is gone, with all of love's gust
I pick up the pieces of its broken trust
cutting my hands they slowly bleed
another gust of love is all I need...
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Wraith I
A call of the gust speaks a thousand words
passing amid the weeping cries of Cedars,
bears up souls in woods, lost nightly hordes,
amounting solitude, of Pine needle guitars;
Denoting calls in the breeze, a Black Alder,
designing spirals of airy spells, around Fir,
a Wraith whirls in twilit dance; sky's border,
were we subdued in lightless and void glare?
A Wraith whirls in twilit grayness, to faraway,
beckons above Oaks Shingle, her dusky wing,
our souls in woods, ghosts of a dour Sunday,
dwell in Cedars; call of a cold gust and sting.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Gust of despair
A gust of despair
far from your sight deep inside me
where the days drown silently
and nights go by slowly
leaves wither in spring
barren valley of stagnant emotions
n the sorrows like snow flakes
sag down the land of my heart
where no wind of pleasure can ever turn
where the sun can cause no blaze but burn
where cavernous woods with no blossoms but fern
where every laughter casts no glee but a regret in turn
genial stances dancing naked rendering servile you
holding ma hands dragging me back
but here I am wandering in the allure of ma ruined woes
in the land of ma heart where the gust of despair forever, blows
poem by Irum Inayat
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The Raging Storm
Winds howled, while rain drummed on the roof, so loud,
The thin walls squeaked, as heard from shack within,
The flimsy roof, might as well be a shroud,
Of stick and grass, that now has spread so thin.
A gust, so strong, decreed the shack must lean,
While flying leaves and twigs, came speeding by;
Tomorrow's trash, the storm will leave to clean,
Just then a gust, has kissed the roof goodbye.
A calm ensued, but soon, winds howled anew,
No roof waits now, to delight the rain,
Debris, that back to where it came, all flew,
The shack that leaned, is now upright again.
And yet, more storms deep in the heart, still rage
With wayward winds that blow, and rain that strums,
Might sway the soul astray, the coward's wage,
But now a song of hope, within it hums.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Wraith II
A call of the gust speaks thousand words
passing amid the weeping cries of Cedars,
bears up souls in woods, lost nightly hordes,
amounting solitude, of Pine needle guitars;
Wind is blowing mournful amid the foliage,
while rain's droplets whisper caressing,
leaves that rest on the ground to assuage,
the wraith's solitude, of self addressing.
Denoting calls in the breeze, a black Alder,
designing spirals of airy spells, around Fir,
a wraith whirls in twilit dance; sky's border,
were we subdued in lightless and void glare?
Rain is falling, souls turned up to bedizen,
skies are blessing the form that sky-rises,
benignant smiles spirits bestow to glazen,
as lonely Dryads spell whispering advises.
[...] Read more
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Brawls (Non Sequitur)
Punch after punch
The pain sank pensively
Hurling daggers of avenge
To a shapeless archenemy
The rotting succumb to its demise
Gust after gust
The wind cut exasperated wounds
With a tourniquet of self-pity
Looking for perfect flaws
The pillar toppled to mark a grave
Thunder after thunder
It benumbed the daunted heart
And bit the maker's hands
A pedagogy of aversive measures
We are conquered by our own devices
Storm after storm
You swept the peaceful dust
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poem by Norman Santos
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Fujiwara Effect
I incarcerate myself
inside this harrying vertigo
lambasting with a ponderous
tirade of thunders and lightning
And as I take the conflagration
brought by the sentimental tempest
and drown in your naïve downpour
the scythes of madness dance
like the petals gliding contingency,
as subtle as the gray macabre
behind the clouds of your squall
And this calamity hungers
for more obliteration, annihilation
like how pain needs more pain,
like how an open wound inviting
infection to amputate the roots,
So gust after gust, I inveigled
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poem by Norman Santos
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