i hear the thunder… it reminds me of how powerful God is. the wind does to. for who can stop the thunder and who can make the wind stop blowing? no one but God himself.
Thunder. An odd word to appear in winter time. I do love thunder and lightning, though. Especially when I’m inside. The dichotomy between the security of my room and the chaos of a storm is wonderful. Maybe it’s not real safety. But I love it.
Jen
Thunder is the sound of impending doom, about to rain on all who enter into its throes. Beware of going near. Danger is all around. Danger you do not know about. Danger you have never felt before.
Michael
Up in the attic, roaring like wind: he collapses a little until he thuds back upright, playfully. His sisters and brother join in and continue the stampede, the sounds of their playing like thunder on still terrain.
Myona
Thunder and fire and rain and all of that divinity pouring down from Zeus’ perch. He is the fire, the rain, the air. The only thing he lacks is Earth, held by sweet Demeter and Astarte and Persephone and Hera and Hestia. All of the women have it, because they are the body of us. That’s right, they are the world’s body.
You’ll always be my thunder, you’ll always be the one that hits while I wait in anticipation after that burst of light. You are the darkness to his sun, you are the mysterious to his clarity.
Mark looked up at the sky as thunder clapped around them.
“We won’t have enough time at this rate,” he said quietly. Will looked up from where he sat, observing the clouds himself.
“We have to save them,” he croaked. His blue eyes sparkled suddenly. “I think I know how.”
“Oh?” demanded Mark. Will picked up his stopwatch, fiddled with it, and suddenly Mark felt himself spinning backwards, backwards, backwards.
Mark looked up at the sky as thunder clapped around them.
She smiled as he held her, his bare chest warm against hers. The rain drizzled only slightly, but quickening each second. He held her there, warm and in love until the thunder began.
thunder is clapping above my head
hurting my ears
and scaring me out of my wits
why did this happen?
how could it?
i only hope the lightning won’t strike again.
“Listen, my brothers and sisters! Do you hear the thunder? Do you feel it coursing through you? Do you feel it rattling your bones? It’s a primal sound! Feel it!”
And they felt it. And they rejoiced. And they called upon the Voice.
Kevin S. Smith
Dark, gloomy, the air fetid with expectation as the slightest cool breeze flowed across the bed. In the distance, a low rumble heralded the end of the hot spell, and we lay there hoping against hope that the temperature would drop to a point wwhere we could sleep. Sweat rolled off our bodies, making the idea of any physical exercise abhorrent.
Gillian (Reynardo)
Why am I sitting in the lap a moon-faced woman with dimples in her elbows that smell of glue and lemons? Mother smells of rain and thunder.
powerful blast of awesome energy.. no wait thats lightning
Mr. Swag Overdose
The noise rocked the walls of the house, or seemed to, as Sara huddled under the covers and waited for it to pass. It was the same with every thunder storm, and had been since she was a little girl; it was one fear she hadn’t ever outgrown, although she couldn’t explain it. there was no reason for a grown woman to be afraid of what she was fully aware was nothing more than a noise, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen her fear. She just wanted the storm to go away.
Thor had a cup of soup balanced on his chest. There were noodles in there, and hunks of meat and also old locomotives and bottom of the sea shipwrecks with captains and first mates spilling out of them and covered with barnacles.
The storm is right over head. The thunder is rolling down the sky. Boom boom boom. This storm was different. I have never heard anything like is before. Is this the sound of the coming of Christ. I don’t know. All I do know is I am ready and I am scared.
the clouds were as violent as the artist’s depiction on canvas, the rain equally as passionate, with the chromed sun desperately fighting for recognition. the smell was erotically seductive and the thunder boldly groped at your insides.
i don’t remember what she said about the storm. but as i admired it, with a distant smile i told her that it looked like her. “excuse me!” i turned my attention to her defensive eyes. “yeah, its gorgeous.”
When I think of thunder, I hear big rolling booms, and white flashes. Living Kansas, I see a lot of thunderstorms, and I remember one where we all were outside, tornado sirens going, but we didn’t care. We juust wanted to see the lightning. All of us were out there, and Mom was worried about the tornado, but all I could think looking up at this glorious display of power by the sky was, “God is real, no way he is not out there.”
Lauren
that stark white light that flashes across the sky on a semi constant basis is increably fasinating. as it moves in a forked pattern seeking the ground i cant help but stare in awe of this awesome force of nature
I remember this book from when I was a kid about thunder cake or something like that. I Remember wanting to be in that bok. the cake was made with tomatoes or something. it was of a girl (black maybe?) and her grandma. not sure if the cake was made when the thunder was out or you could only make it during a storm but the book made me feel safe and warm. havent felt that way in a long time i suppose. but it’s one of those books i remember. reminds me almost of this other book wher eyou make chicken soup with a rock in the broth. think i might have tried that as a kid?
Marian
Thunder boomed in the distance, lightning strikes nearby. What am I gonna do? Sit around all day? No. I walk outside, drink the last drop of coffee, and suck it up.
Iboo
i hear it but i never see it i wish it but it may never come true the things i hear leaving those mountains may just be fairy tales and fables grown from old time smooth talkers and noah calhouns but they work and as much as i hate them afterwards they calm every nerve and sweeten every moment no matter how sour it may have started.
i’m falling under the thunder, but will the lightning ever strike?
She sat on her balcony, feeling the mist as the violent rain fell. She had never seen a storm like this. She watched as the lighting hit, hoping for something close, but not ever expecting the roar.
the crack and bitter taste of blood. the pounding of hooves. the falling of stone. the world broke apart piece by piece – falling down upon itself and into nothing. a frightening end that brought terror to the hearts of all.
cara
the sky darkened, and threw glowing spears of fear, excitement, and exhilaration down upon the the earth
heavy footsteps of giants from afar shook the ground with the intensity of a single black speck on a pure white canvas, they were beyond us, trembling on the line of our imagination
domdom
I LOVE thunderstorms. They’re one of my favorite things about the summer. I remember when I was a teenager one summer we had a month of really strong thunderstorms. Every night the sirens would go off and I’d lay in the loft in our secret clubhouse under the stairs, listening to the wailing and the thunder crashing. Even though the storm was really powerful, I felt safe, even cozy.
Fern Constanova
Sitting in my room, trying to blast through the sound of the thunder with music. Know one exists, it’s just me and my music. I don’t know how to explain my feelings anymore. I see that boy every day at school and my feelings never change. But he’s so ambiguous with his. I just can’t wait much longer.
I collapse down as my world crashes on the brink of destruction. I blame my helplessness blues on impossible distraught. With a thunder’s clak and boom, like blocks of Jenga static runs through my nerves as I cease to believe in the world’s beauty when life starts making sense.
the air in the room freeze suddenly,
she can smell the moist around her,
a thunderstorm is coming
a silent war inside her.
soraoshi
a sudden flash skits across the pitch black night sky. a glimmer of hope, a beacon. A sign of revolt, anger, all being relinquished in one sudden flash of light. so much energy, potential for destruction, or to cause beauty.
It smashed through the sky and reverberated in her body. It was more powerful than screaming. More powerful than anything. It filled the place with an atmosphere that was tangible.
Kit
thunder. what an exciting, thrilling phenomena. Relinquishing anger, power, strength, in a bright bolt that dashes across the night sky. Brilliance.
The thunder struck and I was afraid. We all were, to be honest, because we’d never experienced something that scary before. It wasn’t the weather, though, it was obviously the events occurring around it and connected to it. The sound of the thunder reminded us all that we’re still alive, that we’re still there and that that can change in any moment.
i hear the thunder… it reminds me of how powerful God is. the wind does to. for who can stop the thunder and who can make the wind stop blowing? no one but God himself.
Explosive orgasm, cigarette and a rainy day.
Thunder. An odd word to appear in winter time. I do love thunder and lightning, though. Especially when I’m inside. The dichotomy between the security of my room and the chaos of a storm is wonderful. Maybe it’s not real safety. But I love it.
Thunder is the sound of impending doom, about to rain on all who enter into its throes. Beware of going near. Danger is all around. Danger you do not know about. Danger you have never felt before.
Up in the attic, roaring like wind: he collapses a little until he thuds back upright, playfully. His sisters and brother join in and continue the stampede, the sounds of their playing like thunder on still terrain.
Thunder and fire and rain and all of that divinity pouring down from Zeus’ perch. He is the fire, the rain, the air. The only thing he lacks is Earth, held by sweet Demeter and Astarte and Persephone and Hera and Hestia. All of the women have it, because they are the body of us. That’s right, they are the world’s body.
You’ll always be my thunder, you’ll always be the one that hits while I wait in anticipation after that burst of light. You are the darkness to his sun, you are the mysterious to his clarity.
You’re everything he’s not.
Mark looked up at the sky as thunder clapped around them.
“We won’t have enough time at this rate,” he said quietly. Will looked up from where he sat, observing the clouds himself.
“We have to save them,” he croaked. His blue eyes sparkled suddenly. “I think I know how.”
“Oh?” demanded Mark. Will picked up his stopwatch, fiddled with it, and suddenly Mark felt himself spinning backwards, backwards, backwards.
Mark looked up at the sky as thunder clapped around them.
She smiled as he held her, his bare chest warm against hers. The rain drizzled only slightly, but quickening each second. He held her there, warm and in love until the thunder began.
thunder is clapping above my head
hurting my ears
and scaring me out of my wits
why did this happen?
how could it?
i only hope the lightning won’t strike again.
The giant’s belly
the falling tower
the teacher’s command
The atom’s split
“Listen, my brothers and sisters! Do you hear the thunder? Do you feel it coursing through you? Do you feel it rattling your bones? It’s a primal sound! Feel it!”
And they felt it. And they rejoiced. And they called upon the Voice.
Dark, gloomy, the air fetid with expectation as the slightest cool breeze flowed across the bed. In the distance, a low rumble heralded the end of the hot spell, and we lay there hoping against hope that the temperature would drop to a point wwhere we could sleep. Sweat rolled off our bodies, making the idea of any physical exercise abhorrent.
Why am I sitting in the lap a moon-faced woman with dimples in her elbows that smell of glue and lemons? Mother smells of rain and thunder.
powerful blast of awesome energy.. no wait thats lightning
The noise rocked the walls of the house, or seemed to, as Sara huddled under the covers and waited for it to pass. It was the same with every thunder storm, and had been since she was a little girl; it was one fear she hadn’t ever outgrown, although she couldn’t explain it. there was no reason for a grown woman to be afraid of what she was fully aware was nothing more than a noise, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen her fear. She just wanted the storm to go away.
Thor had a cup of soup balanced on his chest. There were noodles in there, and hunks of meat and also old locomotives and bottom of the sea shipwrecks with captains and first mates spilling out of them and covered with barnacles.
The storm is right over head. The thunder is rolling down the sky. Boom boom boom. This storm was different. I have never heard anything like is before. Is this the sound of the coming of Christ. I don’t know. All I do know is I am ready and I am scared.
The voice intoned, “You have been brought here because of what you have seen.”
Jensen thought, Jesus, if that’s true, then they will probably be bringing the rest of the population of the US here soon.
The gun barrel pressed tighter against his head as the man spoke. Suddenly, a clap of thunder echoed in the barn.
Jensen shit himself.
the clouds were as violent as the artist’s depiction on canvas, the rain equally as passionate, with the chromed sun desperately fighting for recognition. the smell was erotically seductive and the thunder boldly groped at your insides.
i don’t remember what she said about the storm. but as i admired it, with a distant smile i told her that it looked like her. “excuse me!” i turned my attention to her defensive eyes. “yeah, its gorgeous.”
Thunder
Thunder!! Big winds, lightening strikes lighting up the whole Clearwater valley. And rolling, booming, thunder!
I stood on the hill, overlooking the confluence of the Snake and Clearwater. My arms outstretched, I tried to catch the sound and fury.
When I think of thunder, I hear big rolling booms, and white flashes. Living Kansas, I see a lot of thunderstorms, and I remember one where we all were outside, tornado sirens going, but we didn’t care. We juust wanted to see the lightning. All of us were out there, and Mom was worried about the tornado, but all I could think looking up at this glorious display of power by the sky was, “God is real, no way he is not out there.”
that stark white light that flashes across the sky on a semi constant basis is increably fasinating. as it moves in a forked pattern seeking the ground i cant help but stare in awe of this awesome force of nature
I remember this book from when I was a kid about thunder cake or something like that. I Remember wanting to be in that bok. the cake was made with tomatoes or something. it was of a girl (black maybe?) and her grandma. not sure if the cake was made when the thunder was out or you could only make it during a storm but the book made me feel safe and warm. havent felt that way in a long time i suppose. but it’s one of those books i remember. reminds me almost of this other book wher eyou make chicken soup with a rock in the broth. think i might have tried that as a kid?
Thunder boomed in the distance, lightning strikes nearby. What am I gonna do? Sit around all day? No. I walk outside, drink the last drop of coffee, and suck it up.
i hear it but i never see it i wish it but it may never come true the things i hear leaving those mountains may just be fairy tales and fables grown from old time smooth talkers and noah calhouns but they work and as much as i hate them afterwards they calm every nerve and sweeten every moment no matter how sour it may have started.
i’m falling under the thunder, but will the lightning ever strike?
striking in my heart.
while leaves fly
all over
and my breath
is pounding.
Rain shall come.
And so will you.
She sat on her balcony, feeling the mist as the violent rain fell. She had never seen a storm like this. She watched as the lighting hit, hoping for something close, but not ever expecting the roar.
the crack and bitter taste of blood. the pounding of hooves. the falling of stone. the world broke apart piece by piece – falling down upon itself and into nothing. a frightening end that brought terror to the hearts of all.
the sky darkened, and threw glowing spears of fear, excitement, and exhilaration down upon the the earth
heavy footsteps of giants from afar shook the ground with the intensity of a single black speck on a pure white canvas, they were beyond us, trembling on the line of our imagination
I LOVE thunderstorms. They’re one of my favorite things about the summer. I remember when I was a teenager one summer we had a month of really strong thunderstorms. Every night the sirens would go off and I’d lay in the loft in our secret clubhouse under the stairs, listening to the wailing and the thunder crashing. Even though the storm was really powerful, I felt safe, even cozy.
Sitting in my room, trying to blast through the sound of the thunder with music. Know one exists, it’s just me and my music. I don’t know how to explain my feelings anymore. I see that boy every day at school and my feelings never change. But he’s so ambiguous with his. I just can’t wait much longer.
I collapse down as my world crashes on the brink of destruction. I blame my helplessness blues on impossible distraught. With a thunder’s clak and boom, like blocks of Jenga static runs through my nerves as I cease to believe in the world’s beauty when life starts making sense.
the air in the room freeze suddenly,
she can smell the moist around her,
a thunderstorm is coming
a silent war inside her.
a sudden flash skits across the pitch black night sky. a glimmer of hope, a beacon. A sign of revolt, anger, all being relinquished in one sudden flash of light. so much energy, potential for destruction, or to cause beauty.
It smashed through the sky and reverberated in her body. It was more powerful than screaming. More powerful than anything. It filled the place with an atmosphere that was tangible.
thunder. what an exciting, thrilling phenomena. Relinquishing anger, power, strength, in a bright bolt that dashes across the night sky. Brilliance.
I hear the thunder in the distance wishing I was outside in the rain instead of in this suffocating house.
The thunder struck and I was afraid. We all were, to be honest, because we’d never experienced something that scary before. It wasn’t the weather, though, it was obviously the events occurring around it and connected to it. The sound of the thunder reminded us all that we’re still alive, that we’re still there and that that can change in any moment.
My dog is afraid of thunder. She shakes and quivers, and if it’s night, she jumps in my moms bed and shakes the entire bed.