There’s truth in thunder, there’s truth in every fearful thing. Imagine there was a place where all you held good in this dear world was threatened. A place, where, behind each door was your fear, only you didn’t know what that fear was. You move closer and you torment your brain to figure out its form, hoping to come face to face with it as a friend. But you are a product of fear. That fear is you. So you move closer, yet you still can’t perceive what it is. You are trapped here and you want to get out, but you are just a prisoner of your own device. Until eventually you open up that door and all you can think is; “What else could it have been?” That’s when the thunder roles and vibrates in your veins. When your blood shakes to the surface of your pale skin. When you hear the truth in the thunder. You can’t save yourself from this.
she welcomes thunder
with widely
opened arms,
like they’ve been
best friends
since the world began.
arms dancing
air shaking
rain falling
sound rippling
through her skull.
eyes bright
and screaming oceans
striking hearts,
time’s frozen
let’s
blow
it up
He fumbled clumsily in the dark, hands spreaded everywhere in a futile attempt to catch his bearings. Clap! He fell with an “Oof!”, and there she was, clutching on to his sleeve for dear life. It was endearing to say the least, and he couldn’t help but break into a goofy grin.
There was thunder and then I saw the lightning. It was very weird because it usually happens the other way round. I started contemplating about the possibilities of sound traveling faster than light. Is it really possible for something to travel faster than sound, I wondered.
He fumbled clumsily in the dark, hands spreaded everywhere in a futile attempt to catch his bearings. Clap! He fell with an “Oof!”, and there she was, clutching on to his sleeve for dear life. It was enduring to state the least, and he couldn’t help but break into a goofy grin.
my favorite thing to do is lie under the blankets, in my old house. tin roof, warm dog, thunder and rain, wind beating on the old rickety windows. i could pass hours in that room with books and candles, just enjoying the lack of electricity and the warmth peace can bring when you are still and quiet.
The thunder echoes the beating of my heart. Slow, steady. The rain on the roof mimics the tears on my cheeks. Tired, exhausted… let me sleep.
It’s 6am every morning and I’m still awake every morning, listening to the weather through the paper-thin walls and wondering when I’ll find home again.
crashing around me, lightning struck, and when you walked into the room, the crash of expectations was…
You bring darkness and pain and rain and thunder
Waiting for the lull to leave
I like watching lightening, but i’m not sure about thunder. but without thunder lightenings’ appeal would be reduced by half. Thinder is scary but certainly it evokes awe.
He is not someone you would relate to. Everything about him is huge and heavy and painfully loud, like thunder booming and car breaks squealing too close to your ears.
The thunder crashed overhead and the rain continued to pour as the previously dark room was suddenly lit by a bolt of lightning. The dogs in the street were barking and I was so scared. I needed someone to hold, to tell me everything would be alright, to save me from the dark. But you weren’t there.
The thunder clap boomed through the sky as Herman and Sylvia hurriedly packed down their tent and sleeping bags.
Lightning streaked against the sky with the urgency of a diarrhea-imbued kangaroo as they ran as fast as they could through the woods to get to their car. The unforgiving rain and hail pelted their parkas. A flash, a boom and a crack: an oak tree fell and blocked their passage. As they turned back: another bolt, another tree, and they were trapped — pinned between two trees. The hailstorm intensified, bruising their heads and faces through their hoods.
Sylvia angrily turned to Herman. “Do you suppose there’s any way you could go back and un-pee on that ancient Indian burial ground?!”
The thunder crashed above us. I concentrated on the spell, the wind sweeping my hair into my face. I stood on the peak of the cliff. The rain pelted onto my face, stinging slightly. Blue sparks erupted from my hands, dispersing themselves into the eye of the storm.
Sitting in a dark hotel room. The windows are open and the curtains roll with the humid summer wind. The sky crackles with energy. Jamie has the TV set down and low to a local news station and a weather man in a cheap suit forewarning about a storm coming in. The breeze tickles sweaty skin and Conrad times his breathing with the heavy harsh sound of the thunder cutting the silence.
The noise seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet. She quivered and dove under a nearby table, gripping for anything. A table leg, her stuffed rabbit, and the floor. Crouching, she waited for the rain and thunder to cease.
The symphony begins with a light pounding on the tympani. Faster and faster the beats grow louder. The music can be heard all throughout the room– the music of Thunder and Its mighty hooves.
“Thunder rolls” “There’s truth in the thunder”, and a host of other song lyrics. Thunder is easy imagery to me. There must be a better use of it than simply its implication. Does thunder have no voice of its own?
I love thunder. It reminds me of the destruction that nature can wreak on everything. And how it’s really not destruction – every other creature deals with trees, fields, mountains, lakes being destroyed or poisoned or disappearing. But to people, we feel we own things. At this point, I realize I don’t “own” anything. If I could detach myself from materials forever, I definitely would. Maybe I’ll try.
It roared an angry growl, like that of a lion hungry for it’s meaty prey; scaring the flames to a quiver, a top the shrinking candle sticks. It was funny, moments like these are seldom remembered. Thunder so bold and fantastic, is seen as just a triviality in the grand scheme of memory.
It roared, a brilliant growl like a lion hungry for it’s prey; scaring the flames to a quiver a top the shrinking candle sticks. It was funny, moments like these we can seldom remember. Thunder, so magnificent, but seen as something so trivial in our eyes.
In such a Pokemon mood lately. Anime is so amazing. Who ever started it should be hugged a million times and then some because they were just that awesome. Although I will say that every amazing thing has it’s flaws. Hentai. How dare you exist. =p
your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. how could i ever love another? you’ll always be my thunder. springwood. mikey. sam. Chelsea. pizza rollz. louisville. sneeky.
Everything is crashing to pieces in the rain. It’s beating down the windows and bending the trees. The wind is pushing over complete villas on the foreign mountainside. Lightning crackles and shoots electricity through the water of the darkened lake. And the thunder finally makes its appearence, rumbling and growling its heartache across the land. This is what my broken heart does, all thanks to you.
The thunder was so incredibly loud, it was almost omnipresent. There was nothing but the clap of it, shaking the walls with its intensity. The clocks on the walls rattled.
Rushing in the wind, followed by flashing light. How far away is the lightning. Counting counting, reminds me of when I was little and I would see it forking down in shinging branches
1, 1 thousand, 2, 1 thousand, 3….
it’s silent here,
as loud as the claps
that shake the trees
in the summer rain.
except the puddles have dried.
the air waits,
nervously tensing its ankles
as it crouches,
seeking an end
to the deafening absence of sound.
Reminds me of a high school physics equation about the speed of sound (speed =distance/time), or the time delay between thunder and lightening, or something like that. It’s been a long time since I’ve played around with physics. Kind of miss it tho, equations have always been kind of fun to solve.
HORRIBLE SONG I WROTE: CRAZY ABOUT YOU
its the middle of the night,
wake up gasping,
seeing your face in my head
for the millionth time
my heart is pounding cuz i know its true,
i just can’t get rid of you.
your name is like thunder in my head
i can’t think straight,
yeah im a mess.
why are you still here,
just sittin in my mind?
don’t you have somethin better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you.
standing in that crowded room,
there’s no one i want to see more than you
no theres no stopping this; whatever it is…oh
and when you finally come into view
i can’t stop staring,
can’t stop looking at you
yeah i know that this is wrong but i know whats goin on
because
your name is like thunder in my head,
i can’t think straight,
yeah, i’m a mess
how come your still here,
just sittin in my mind?
don’t you have something better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you
yeah my world is coming down…
all the lights are going out…
your in my mind
every minute of every day,
and its driving me insane…
but..
your name is like thunder in my head
i can’t think straight,
yeah i’m a mess
how come your still here,
just sittin in my mind
don’t you have somethin better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you.
crazy
yeah, im crazy
crazy about you
and flashing in the distance blunders. what a bummer. thest sticks keep banging o is anybody else seeing this? He didn’t know but he wanted her to see this. and now she’s gone and it’s all washed away. because the window
It cracks and screams and dies like me on that day in june. Have you ever looked at the sky, and wondered why? I have. I have every single day since I was thrown to my knees, my eyes cracked and my heart thrown before those broken irises. I’ve seen the world from above, and I’ve seen it from below. Nothing looks more beautiful, nothing more hideous. So why?
I love a good thunder storm. The pound of the rain on the ground. Flashes of lightening every where. And that boom of thunder that comes along with it.
Every piece of a storm soothes my soul. Makes me feel like everything is right in the world. Like I can do anything I want, I just have to breathe in the storm.
this is my winter song to you
the storm is coming soon
my words will be your guide
guide you through the night
is love alive
There’s truth in thunder, there’s truth in every fearful thing. Imagine there was a place where all you held good in this dear world was threatened. A place, where, behind each door was your fear, only you didn’t know what that fear was. You move closer and you torment your brain to figure out its form, hoping to come face to face with it as a friend. But you are a product of fear. That fear is you. So you move closer, yet you still can’t perceive what it is. You are trapped here and you want to get out, but you are just a prisoner of your own device. Until eventually you open up that door and all you can think is; “What else could it have been?” That’s when the thunder roles and vibrates in your veins. When your blood shakes to the surface of your pale skin. When you hear the truth in the thunder. You can’t save yourself from this.
she welcomes thunder
with widely
opened arms,
like they’ve been
best friends
since the world began.
arms dancing
air shaking
rain falling
sound rippling
through her skull.
eyes bright
and screaming oceans
striking hearts,
time’s frozen
let’s
blow
it up
BANG.
He fumbled clumsily in the dark, hands spreaded everywhere in a futile attempt to catch his bearings. Clap! He fell with an “Oof!”, and there she was, clutching on to his sleeve for dear life. It was endearing to say the least, and he couldn’t help but break into a goofy grin.
There was thunder and then I saw the lightning. It was very weird because it usually happens the other way round. I started contemplating about the possibilities of sound traveling faster than light. Is it really possible for something to travel faster than sound, I wondered.
He fumbled clumsily in the dark, hands spreaded everywhere in a futile attempt to catch his bearings. Clap! He fell with an “Oof!”, and there she was, clutching on to his sleeve for dear life. It was enduring to state the least, and he couldn’t help but break into a goofy grin.
my favorite thing to do is lie under the blankets, in my old house. tin roof, warm dog, thunder and rain, wind beating on the old rickety windows. i could pass hours in that room with books and candles, just enjoying the lack of electricity and the warmth peace can bring when you are still and quiet.
I love the rain, but not when I’m alone. I think it’s cozy, but only when I’m with someone.
Her vitality hit me with a thunderous slap; moving from revolt to must have now to holding.
The thunder echoes the beating of my heart. Slow, steady. The rain on the roof mimics the tears on my cheeks. Tired, exhausted… let me sleep.
It’s 6am every morning and I’m still awake every morning, listening to the weather through the paper-thin walls and wondering when I’ll find home again.
crashing around me, lightning struck, and when you walked into the room, the crash of expectations was…
You bring darkness and pain and rain and thunder
Waiting for the lull to leave
I like watching lightening, but i’m not sure about thunder. but without thunder lightenings’ appeal would be reduced by half. Thinder is scary but certainly it evokes awe.
He is not someone you would relate to. Everything about him is huge and heavy and painfully loud, like thunder booming and car breaks squealing too close to your ears.
noise rain scared rain storm loud black dark
You look through me
Eye of the storm
No silver lining
No sunny afternoon
You look through me
Don’t know me?
Don’t show me
Any time
But lightning still brings thunder
makes you jump
a sudden person at your side
somebody yelling
something coming
The thunder crashed overhead and the rain continued to pour as the previously dark room was suddenly lit by a bolt of lightning. The dogs in the street were barking and I was so scared. I needed someone to hold, to tell me everything would be alright, to save me from the dark. But you weren’t there.
I have been called thunder guess I can be loud and scary for no real reason. Silly boys.
The thunder clap boomed through the sky as Herman and Sylvia hurriedly packed down their tent and sleeping bags.
Lightning streaked against the sky with the urgency of a diarrhea-imbued kangaroo as they ran as fast as they could through the woods to get to their car. The unforgiving rain and hail pelted their parkas. A flash, a boom and a crack: an oak tree fell and blocked their passage. As they turned back: another bolt, another tree, and they were trapped — pinned between two trees. The hailstorm intensified, bruising their heads and faces through their hoods.
Sylvia angrily turned to Herman. “Do you suppose there’s any way you could go back and un-pee on that ancient Indian burial ground?!”
The thunder crashed above us. I concentrated on the spell, the wind sweeping my hair into my face. I stood on the peak of the cliff. The rain pelted onto my face, stinging slightly. Blue sparks erupted from my hands, dispersing themselves into the eye of the storm.
A sudden flash
A loud bang
I hear a crash
The sky just sang
I blink my eyes
I open my mouth
Startling yet beautiful
Thunder
Sitting in a dark hotel room. The windows are open and the curtains roll with the humid summer wind. The sky crackles with energy. Jamie has the TV set down and low to a local news station and a weather man in a cheap suit forewarning about a storm coming in. The breeze tickles sweaty skin and Conrad times his breathing with the heavy harsh sound of the thunder cutting the silence.
The noise seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet. She quivered and dove under a nearby table, gripping for anything. A table leg, her stuffed rabbit, and the floor. Crouching, she waited for the rain and thunder to cease.
The symphony begins with a light pounding on the tympani. Faster and faster the beats grow louder. The music can be heard all throughout the room– the music of Thunder and Its mighty hooves.
“Thunder rolls” “There’s truth in the thunder”, and a host of other song lyrics. Thunder is easy imagery to me. There must be a better use of it than simply its implication. Does thunder have no voice of its own?
I love thunder. It reminds me of the destruction that nature can wreak on everything. And how it’s really not destruction – every other creature deals with trees, fields, mountains, lakes being destroyed or poisoned or disappearing. But to people, we feel we own things. At this point, I realize I don’t “own” anything. If I could detach myself from materials forever, I definitely would. Maybe I’ll try.
It roared an angry growl, like that of a lion hungry for it’s meaty prey; scaring the flames to a quiver, a top the shrinking candle sticks. It was funny, moments like these are seldom remembered. Thunder so bold and fantastic, is seen as just a triviality in the grand scheme of memory.
why is it thunder again? so yes, basically i think thunder is a horrified thing. It scares lots of little kids and girls at the night. it helps me to
It roared, a brilliant growl like a lion hungry for it’s prey; scaring the flames to a quiver a top the shrinking candle sticks. It was funny, moments like these we can seldom remember. Thunder, so magnificent, but seen as something so trivial in our eyes.
In such a Pokemon mood lately. Anime is so amazing. Who ever started it should be hugged a million times and then some because they were just that awesome. Although I will say that every amazing thing has it’s flaws. Hentai. How dare you exist. =p
your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. how could i ever love another? you’ll always be my thunder. springwood. mikey. sam. Chelsea. pizza rollz. louisville. sneeky.
Everything is crashing to pieces in the rain. It’s beating down the windows and bending the trees. The wind is pushing over complete villas on the foreign mountainside. Lightning crackles and shoots electricity through the water of the darkened lake. And the thunder finally makes its appearence, rumbling and growling its heartache across the land. This is what my broken heart does, all thanks to you.
The thunder was so incredibly loud, it was almost omnipresent. There was nothing but the clap of it, shaking the walls with its intensity. The clocks on the walls rattled.
Rushing in the wind, followed by flashing light. How far away is the lightning. Counting counting, reminds me of when I was little and I would see it forking down in shinging branches
1, 1 thousand, 2, 1 thousand, 3….
it’s silent here,
as loud as the claps
that shake the trees
in the summer rain.
except the puddles have dried.
the air waits,
nervously tensing its ankles
as it crouches,
seeking an end
to the deafening absence of sound.
Reminds me of a high school physics equation about the speed of sound (speed =distance/time), or the time delay between thunder and lightening, or something like that. It’s been a long time since I’ve played around with physics. Kind of miss it tho, equations have always been kind of fun to solve.
HORRIBLE SONG I WROTE: CRAZY ABOUT YOU
its the middle of the night,
wake up gasping,
seeing your face in my head
for the millionth time
my heart is pounding cuz i know its true,
i just can’t get rid of you.
your name is like thunder in my head
i can’t think straight,
yeah im a mess.
why are you still here,
just sittin in my mind?
don’t you have somethin better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you.
standing in that crowded room,
there’s no one i want to see more than you
no theres no stopping this; whatever it is…oh
and when you finally come into view
i can’t stop staring,
can’t stop looking at you
yeah i know that this is wrong but i know whats goin on
because
your name is like thunder in my head,
i can’t think straight,
yeah, i’m a mess
how come your still here,
just sittin in my mind?
don’t you have something better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you
yeah my world is coming down…
all the lights are going out…
your in my mind
every minute of every day,
and its driving me insane…
but..
your name is like thunder in my head
i can’t think straight,
yeah i’m a mess
how come your still here,
just sittin in my mind
don’t you have somethin better to do…
then bother this girl
whos crazy about you.
crazy
yeah, im crazy
crazy about you
and flashing in the distance blunders. what a bummer. thest sticks keep banging o is anybody else seeing this? He didn’t know but he wanted her to see this. and now she’s gone and it’s all washed away. because the window
It cracks and screams and dies like me on that day in june. Have you ever looked at the sky, and wondered why? I have. I have every single day since I was thrown to my knees, my eyes cracked and my heart thrown before those broken irises. I’ve seen the world from above, and I’ve seen it from below. Nothing looks more beautiful, nothing more hideous. So why?
I love a good thunder storm. The pound of the rain on the ground. Flashes of lightening every where. And that boom of thunder that comes along with it.
Every piece of a storm soothes my soul. Makes me feel like everything is right in the world. Like I can do anything I want, I just have to breathe in the storm.