A Soft Refrain
Turn you head a little, and glance briefly at the rain,
Watch it creeping down that clear glass windowpane.
Making a rhythmic tapping sound, it's such a soft refrain,
Thrown there by a wind whose temper, we cannot contain.
Clouds of grey release their weighty contents from the sky,
Feeding plants that on the ground, I'm pretty sure would die
Without the refreshing water. Trees like the tall green leylandii
Would shrivel up. We must also consider the fragile butterfly.
Although we moan each time we are bombarded by a shower,
We need to think of all it saves, even one simple flower.
It holds within its droplets numerous minerals of such power,
Continually feeding this dry, parched earth, hour after hour.
Let us appreciate the wonders which nature doth bestow,
Keeping our land a pleasant place for everything to grow.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Rain Drops
Here comes the grey clouds
rolling in,
Spreading rain all over the
town.
Rain drops help to moisten
the earth's beautiful green
grass.
Sidewalks once dusty are
washed and cleaned.
Rivers and lakes are given
plenty more water.
Fishes swim around happy
beneath the rain drops,
creating millions of ripples
upon the water.
Flowers and plants no longer
Thirst,
Even trees and bushes seem
to dance after a good drink
of water,
Animals get their fill of
water too.
Just Like a shower,
Rain drops clean and
cleanse everything,
Leaving the earth refreshed
and renewed.
After the storm has passed,
The sun shines spreading its
warmth.
Rain drops that are left behind
on Flowers, plants, trees and
grass,
It is like heaven for many insects
to fill their thirsty little
mouths.
Without clouds we would have no
rain drops,
Without rain drops everything would
never be the same.
poem by Derek James
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When the rain drops fall on my head...
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I feel the greatness of the nature
When the heat on earth vaporized
Then the clouds above makes the rain
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the farmers are full of cheers
When the rain water roll on the ground
Then all the barren lands turns to green
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the rain water runs down the mountains
When the rain water preserved in the built dam
Then there is no poverty on the land
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I know the God sends it for us
When we do not go against the nature
Then the rain drops fall on the earth for ever
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Poor plastic Flower
My mother in law loves flower
This is our trial
My wife in denial
As she plants a flower
She has a brown thumb
This makes me glum
For she can’t even grow a plum
She has plastic flowers
And those took a powder
Poor plastic flower
A flower needs water
To give it power
She forget this every hour
That is why her flowers are powder
Her plastic flower had power
Until it's last hour
The vase did tower
As it was full of water
Poor plastic flower
poem by Keith Wells
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When the rain drops fall on my head......
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I feel the greatness of the nature
When the heat on earth vaporized
Then the clouds above makes the rain
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the farmers are full of cheers
When the rain water roll on the ground
Then all the barren lands turns to green
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the rain water runs down the mountains
When the rain water preserved in the built dam
Then there is no poverty on the land
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I know the God sends it for us
When we do not go against the nature
Then the rain drops fall on the earth for ever
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Oh Rain Come Agian
Oh rain, oh rain, oh rain
Come again, come again
We are scorching in the summer
Come with sudden thunder
Don't just drizzle
Little and little
But come and pour
Plenty of water
The land is dry
Animals are making cry
Temperature crossed forty five
Bees are coming out of their hive
Without water land is hell
Plants have turned pale
Oh rain. Oh rain
Come again, come again
To turn landscape green
As it ever had been
Oh rain, por water
To make earth greener
More healthier and richer
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Flowers In The Rain
Woke up one morning half asleep
With all my blankets in a heap
And yellow roses gathered all around me;
The time was still approaching four
I couldnt stand it anymore
Saw marigolds upon my eider down.
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain making the garden grow,
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain keeping me cool.
So I lay upon my side with all the windows opened wide
Couldnt pressurize my head from speaking
Hoping not to make a sound I pushed my bed into the grounds
In time to catch the sight that I was seeking.
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain making the garden grow,
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain keeping me cool.
If this perfect pleasure has the key
Then this is how it has to be
If my pillows getting wet
I dont see that it matters much to me.
I heard the flowers in the breeze make conversation with the trees
Believed to leave reality behind me
With my commitments in a mess my sleep has gone away depressed
In a world of fantasy youll find me.
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain making the garden grow,
Im just sitting watching flowers in the rain
Feel the power of the rain keeping me cool.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shortest Moment That The Butterfly Tries To Speak
how many flutters of its wings is its lifetime?
not a hundred, this butterfly with blue shaking lines on its wings
some dots of black on the lower tip
some flaps of dust as you hold it.
we love to see it freely hovering from one flower to another
blending with its colors, it is not trying to hide anything
beautiful, it is showing itself, beautiful butterfly,
how gentle, soft to our hearts as we watch it
there is no sound of its wings and its graceful feeding on the nectars
then it rests on a leaf. we leave it there.
the wind last night was strong.
we see the leaf where it stayed on the pebbled ground.
there are no wings. there is no trace where the blue butterfly is.
how many flutters did that butterfly make?
such a brief moment, yet so beautiful
that is the message of the life of its lost wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain To Beautiful Colors
Rain thousands of drops falling
Like tears of sadness
Showering down like grains of salt being poured
Or the sands of an hour glass
The grass, dirt and plants desire it
People we dismiss it with hatred
Fills our river, creeks and lakes
Makes a muddy mess in our houses
We sing songs to make come and go
The smell of fresh rain is fishy
But a pleasant scent later on
The brown plants turn to green
The rain and the sun makes them grow
Thunder rolls thru the sky like bowling alleys
The lighting give a beautiful light show, sometimes scary
But we all watch it from inside
Storms move quickly, some violent a lot not
We watch big eyes like children in a candy storm
Rain comes and goes, but the world needs its so
Why do we hate it so much,
To make our day gloomy and gray
When really its colorful and beautiful
The big rainbow that is in the sky
Beautiful rain bring lovely colors of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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Ode to a Yellow Butterfly
The Yellow Butterfly
The butterfly rested on the ground
Near the spot of water it had found
A place where a refreshing bit
Of moisture would surely be
Necessary for this flight of fantasy
A flight over many miles
Of deserts, mountains, and steamy tracks
To be passed beneath it on its way
For a date with others in Nature's sway.
With a flutter of the wings
A pumping action begins
That moves the refreshing dip
To recharge the butterfly for the trip.
Then once again the process begins
With a drum roll of spreading wings
The coiled proboscis carefully put in place
And six legs touching earth in a final embrace,
Waiting for a gentle breeze
To lift him above the trees
And off to places yet unknown
The yellow butterfly goes alone.
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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Raise Your Head Fearlessly Above Shade!
Look at the Nature around,
whether trees and plants know or not,
Their roots surly know,
water that quench their thirst,
where they can find minerals for growth,
Are in this soil and in the Nature!
Animals live in nature's garden,
birds and butterfly,
Know where they can be happy!
O man, know for sure
tender plants with tender roots,
Need shade and care,
no tree can grow under shade of another tree,
Come out of shades and shadows,
Once roots become firm,
once you absorb essence wanted,
Raise your head fearlessly above shades,
Breath the fresh air Rain and sunshine,
feel the heat and cold to become free,
The potential is there in you,
Open the packet of reasoning and wisdom,
Never bury it,
What Almighty had embedded in your heart!
The fountain of infinite bliss is within you,
Never thereafter you feel thirsty,
More you can share the fruits,
With that sweet knowledge,
Whoever thirsty can sip it till his own roots grow,
You are done,
you have done!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Charms
She walks as lightly as the fly
Skates on the water in July.
To hear her moving petticoat
For me is music's highest note.
Stones are not heard, when her feet pass,
No more than tumps of moss or grass.
When she sits still, she's like the flower
To be a butterfly next hour.
The brook laughs not more sweet, when he
Trips over pebbles suddenly.
My Love, like him, can whisper low --
When he comes where green cresses grow.
She rises like the lark, that hour
He goes halfway to meet a shower.
A fresher drink is in her looks
Than Nature gives me, or old books.
When I in my Love's shadow sit,
I do not miss the sun one bit.
When she is near, my arms can hold
All that's worth having in this world.
And when I know not where she is,
Nothing can come but comes amiss.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Blessing Rain Becomes Supercell Storm
it takes very little
water to make a flood
when ground is parched
rock when earth is sun baked
exposed so quickly blessing rain
can turn into supercell storm devastation
spare sun tortured ground save trees keep sacred
forests mysteries which umbrella moisture ground
with limbs diverse tall oak trees many leaves blessing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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By the Potomac
The soft new grass is creeping o'er the graves
By the Potomac; and the crisp ground-flower
Tilts its blue cup to catch the passing shower;
The pine-cone ripens, and the long moss waves
Its tangled gonfalons above our braves.
Hark, what a burst of music from yon bower! --
The Southern nightingale that hour by hour
In its melodious summer madness raves.
Ah, with what delicate touches of her hand,
With what sweet voice of bird and rivulet
And drowsy murmur of the rustling leaf
Would Nature soothe us, bidding us forget
The awful crime of this distracted land
And all our heavy heritage of grief.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Rain
Today I watched the falling rain
Rice paddies drinking droplets sweet
Heaven watering farmers' grains
As stalks shoot up their growth to meet.
The scenery shown in verdant wetness
Ushering the harvest of a season
Bountiful proof of Nature's goodness
A rich store of life's provision.
I love the feel and sight of rain
Its cool refreshing sound of falling
I like to think I am the grain
Each dropp of rain shall keep me feeding.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
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Just Beyond The Rainbow’s End
There is a green and pleasant land,
where I wish to spend my retiring years.
A land that has tall mountains
that reach up to the sky,
trees tall, green and noble
that stretch across many acres of land,
with cooling streams that flow through the heart
of this green and pleasant land
that lies just beyond the rainbow’s end.
This is where this paradise starts,
a place one day to which I’ll lose my heart.
The people there are friendly
and take you in with open arms.
There one day I hope to be
in that green and pleasant land
that lies just beyond the rainbow’s end.
1 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Poem Sliding Down the Glass-pane
I look around
And retrieve to
My regular corner
The glass widow
Overlooking the sky
Everyday
Every afternoon
I looked at the baked glass
With its coat of dirt
In expectation
The clear sky
Always giving me
An apologetic glance
Lo, this morning
As the clouds dimmed
The corner, hope revived
The sky didn't let me down
The rain lashed and lashed
The rain slid down the glass-pane
Like water droplets
On the freshly bathed skin!
(05 Jul 2011)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Those Kids Are Mine
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
I am fast asleep.
With dreams of royalities.
And making acceptance speeches,
Behind raised and decorated podiums.
After reciting poem after poem,
Without a wish to get needed rest.
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
That hour is the time to begin your creeping.
When I release my 'children',
From the state of mind I fall into...
That seems to turn me on.
And...
I am creating 'children birthing from my pen.
Pick any hour your choose,
To molest any one of them.
And I will be at your door before you get there.
To begin your craft of flagrant plagiarism.
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
That hour is the time to begin your creeping.
You've been getting closer and closer...
But,
You touch one of my kids.
I will be at your door before you get there.
To discredit every move you've made,
To claim what's mine.
To do, redo, re-state or redefine.
Those kids are mine! And we know each other,
Very well.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trees
Trees, please me
To sit and watch them grow
As from a seed,
They do breed,
And from the Earth and Wind they grow,
Reaching up towards the clouds
And swaying in the breeze,
It always makes me feel so proud,
To sit, and watch a tree.
Earth is the Father,
Protecting his precious child,
While Mother is Nature,
Giving protection from the wild.
Trees, please me
Living from a seed,
Living in awe,
And growing so tall,
Entertains both you and me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Vagrant
The love that has no memories and no hope,
Is like the weed that blossoms for an hour;
That putting forth its one imperfect flower,
Straightway doth languish. It can neither cope
With the strong tempest, nor with the mild power
Of mellow sunlight, nor with the soft shower.
It has no root in nature, and it dies,
Leaving no fragrance and no fruit behind;
And none lament it, nor return to find
Its bed when, beaten low, it bruisèd lies:
Unfriended, and forsaken of its kind,
It blows about, at mercy of the wind.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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