White mist
The White Clouds
Morphing wonderfully
Changing into Elephants
Then...
Rearranging into children
Playing with balloons.
White clouds
Shaped into swaying cradle
Pushed by the winds
With its toil
There is no sadness
Clouds
Strolling since eternity
When there was nothing
They were here
If they could
Telling us
Strange fables
Grand olden cities
Worlds of acient souls
Wars and battles
Won and lost.
White Floating fluid
Dispearcing the suns light
Covering a landscape
With cool mist
Grey and silver shapes
Giving way to storms sulking
Off in a near horizion
Finding joy and gladness
From their soft shapes
Without any sharp cutting corners
Will I never forget
They lay pendent
Between our two worlds
poem by Howard Johnson
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Related quotes
White Clouds
White clouds
Morphing wonderfully
Watch those bears
Changing into
Rows of elephants
Shaping like
A frail old man standing
Rearranging into children
Playing with balloons.
White clouds
Sway on cradle of the wind
Occasionally shrivel
With toil and sadness
At times inflate
With joy and gladness
Never forget
Heaven nor earth
They lie pendent
Between the two worlds.
White clouds
Strolling since eternity
Telling strange fables
Of grand olden dwellings
With a world of ancient souls
When there was nothing, but
A fluid of light,
A landscape of mist
And a suspended caravan
Of several ages.
White clouds, now
Moulding into sombre faces, become
Storms sulking on the horizon.
Thousands of maladies thrive
Above and underneath the land.
White clouds
Course through hearts,
Surging in
The plasma flow of vessels.
(1990, Translated by Sameer Ahmed, Translation reviewed by Lillian Thomas)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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Clouds
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Horse running free.
Camel walking desert dunes.
Ship sailing blue sky.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Winged dragon take flight.
Rabbit passes.
Tulip, petals falling.
Imagination growing.
Daydreams flowing.
Finger outlines shape.
One eye closed, now concentrate.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Collide, take form.
Breezes blow, rearranging.
Never knowing what materializes next.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see.
Shapes in clouds follow me.
poem by Gary Kedron
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Holy Blunder
Clouds in the skies; clouds in the skies; clouds, clouds
Clouds in the skies; some clustering; some cluttering
Some straying; some strewing; all in one yonder
Like free floating vices and flouted virtues
Amongst myriad murky Stygean stratus
One cumulus, shining bright and smiling white
Like a lucky rich man amongst fated poor
Leering, jeering, raving in sway and sashey
“My one misdirected beam made him gleam”
Bemused waning God Sun, “how this happened
Of one breed are all clouds; running in them same
Vapour-blood; façade is due to my light shed”
“Oh! Idiotic white clouds! This is not good!
Don’t swagger because of my one holy blunder
On the day apocalyptic winds wiggle
Every cloud has to melt down into drizzle”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Clouds
How strange,
The clouds derange,
My peaceful day,
Intensive gray,
That will not stay,
Just floats away,
Perpetual change,
How strange.
The changing shapes,
The light that drapes,
Some shadows,
Memories,
The clouds are here,
And then there gone,
Like certainly will we
poem by Sandra Feldman
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Clouds
I watched the clouds up in the sky,
As they drifted silently in the air,
So relaxing and peaceful in that moment am I
That I sat back and relaxed in my chair,
I watch the clouds as they passed me by
With one joyous form after another,
Bringing joy and wonders to this mans eye
If only for myself, and to no other,
The wind it gently gives the clouds a nudge
So they might continue upon their flight,
Unto another persons eyes so they can judge
The shapes and form brought to their sight,
I now see castles of white in the sky above
Followed by a cloud that resembles a tower,
Then I see the face of a long lost love
I am saddened, as now I see a flower,
The clouds I watch they again take form
As now they begin to resemble animals in a zoo,
I now see elephants and giraffes as they transform
And now these clouds becomes a whale and a kangaroo,
The clouds they change mystically in front of me
As though they are trying to play a game,
They show me how my mind and thoughts are free
As they become pictures inside a picture frame,
But now I look and all the clouds they have gone
Their parade is over for this day
As though GOD has erased what he had drawn
As now comes the rain to wash them all away.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Clouds Shall Pass
I see clouds
Whitish and feathery
Cotton white and feathery
Dark clouds, winds gather,
Winds howl, winds sweep the sky
Sun shines, coloured rainbow bows
little rain spatters, clouds,
Clouds shall clear, the sun winks.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Clouds And Moods
Puffs of clouds covered the sky
Like my thoughts of you and I.
At times I could see and think clearly
But my mind would get weary.
Those puffs of clouds would take control
And my heart it would hold.
It’s amazing how it could be
That the clouds are like you and me.
When the clouds get dark and grey
We become defensive in every way
And the fights come into play.
And when clouds are a misty white
I want to make love to you day and night.
And when the clouds look like ripples in the sand
I want to squeeze you and hold your hand.
And when the clouds completely cover the sky
I thank god you’re by my side.
poem by Louis Rams
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Just Child's Play
Towards the end of a bright sunny day;
Children enjoying life; occur what may;
Clouds began to form and drift our way;
As we rested on grassy bank from play;
Spotting shapes the clouds would form;
Naming them; hoping for no dire storm;
First coming slowly and then very fast;
One comes on scene; then a whole cast;
There's a bear; a horse; and a big mouse;
Then came orders from Granny's house;
You children be very mindful of the rain;
If it starts come in; when over out again;
Uncle added, alright now you young folks;
Don't you all be telling those filthy jokes;
We could not understand what he meant;
So back to enjoying what the winds sent;
Pleased just to be children without a care;
None of the worlds difficult loads to bare;
Owning every spectacular feature of a day;
That is what we all used to call child's play!
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Rainbow Of Clouds
(09/27/11)
Oh! How I love to look at the sky
So many colors that attract the eye.
Blues, grey s , reds, and oranges too
Create such a perfect view.
Especially at dusk or dawn
When new colors are born.
Or when the white clouds look like
Snow covered mountain tops
And the rippling waves that it creates
Puts you at a restful state.
What about the patches of blue
In between the oranges and grey s
And your heart wishing that they would stay.
The skies can create such a therapeutic state
On which so many of us can relate.
Putting our minds and bodies at such ease
Like the feel of a soft gentle breeze.
It also has its black clouds
Covering its face like a shroud.
These dark clouds tend to hide the day
And you never know what will come your way.
But Even the darkest of clouds can bring joy.
The rains that the dark clouds bring
Gives life to everything.
poem by Louis Rams
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Well Favored
On route I am to her fair eternity
expecting to see an isle to emerge,
Nymphs will bestow benign affinity,
and enamored Sirens will submerge.
In skies will fly fiddling swallows,
melodious laughter will fascinate
immaculate souls there to follow,
playful winds to dance and ornate.
Shimmering clouds white and such,
fast will travel to sway above me,
there I 'll recall one that so much
under same clouds cared to love me;
Well-favored, blissful and so kind,
aesthetic scenes, around invite me,
to fly in winds, with soul and mind,
dedicated nice to worlds inside me.
Two resplendent streams will flow,
from her innocent, expectant eyes,
oh, so wondering her glance will glow,
to enter a space in my soul that dies.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Countryside
Patches of dark grey clouds
and streaks of white clouds
on the greenish brown hills
blocking the daylight;
The water-filled paddy fields
the swaying of the coconut tree leaves
the raindrops on mustard flowers;
some black and white coloured
cows tied under a tree
and a herd of mooing cows heading home;
The smiles of children playing in
rain puddles, various coloured
umbrellas scattered from
here to there, people rushing
to their homes, a small
temple sheltering all;
The cool breeze, the droplets of
water on every face,
the smell of damp brown-earth
made the time stand still.
I paused and resumed
my journey of life.
Copyright©2011Rizvana Parveen
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Will winds come?
Sky was dark.
Holding thick bundles of rain inside
waiting for winds to
open bundles of rain,
take away heavy bundles
and free me to play with
white cool light clouds.
Sky was worried.
Will winds come and free me
from this dark bundles of rain
making me feel tired
making my knees paining?
When will those winds come?
How long I have to carry these dark bundles?
Waiting for winds
will I fall down
with tiring weakening bundles
of these dark clouds
in my hand?
Even the sun is moving down
with colour changing to red
going for rest for night.
When will these winds come?
Am I destined to fall down
tired and exhausted
with ever increasing burden
of these dark clouds in my hand?
10, September,2008
poem by Thomas Viruvelil
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Clouds Of My Life
There moves the cloud
with the wind that blows
So bright and white
like the pages of my life…
I sit near the window
and watch those clouds
That shows me the way
my life is being shaped…
Never was I able to
see the clouds
Have the same shape
in every minute of my life…
Why does this happen
is what I think
But everyday is not the same
is what it says to me…
I see the winds
blow off the clouds
Which makes me think
when will my life be blown off? ...
It's hard to see
black clouds coming in between
Making my worst fears
strike into my mind…
It rains day and night
making me feel happy and sad
Happy to see the black clouds fading
but sad about losing the clouds…
Dreams of mine takes
shape in the clouds
Always showing me the face
of the person I like…
It always reminds me
my life is in world's hands
No matter how hard I try
can't change the fate of my life…
It's nice to see the clouds
every morning I wake up
This reminds me there is still a day
because I see the "Clouds of my Life"…
poem by Sowkoor Nischal Shetty
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Clouds
Overhead I see the clouds
and know that they see me.
I sometimes wonder when I see them
how it feels to be so free?
Billowy shapes of cotton
that change within my sight
also tend to change my mood
when their movement hides sunlight.
I'm caught up seeing how they change
and always try to view
what object they remind me of
and where they travel to?
I must admit I also love
to see a cloudless day.
Then the clear blue picture of the sky
I wish could always stay.
But if there must be clouds overhead
then let them all be puffy white.
Then maybe I'll see those traveling clouds
in my dreams at night.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When the Full Moon Shines Through the Clouds
Strange shapes can be seen
when the full moon shines through the clouds.
Stange shapes can be seen,
frightengly realistic images
of faces and figures,
some human, some demonic.
And, right now
in the world,
under that same moon
shining through different clouds,
people are cowering in fear.
In parts of the world,
people are sick, and dying,
people are being murdered,
tortured,
people are mourning
and crying over their losses.
And I sit here, in this room,
typing,
in cogitation,
with food,
with drink.
My most pressing current concern
is that a cold October draft
is forcing its way through my window.
I reach to make sure my window is fully closed;
a full moon beams its light into my room
along with that cold October daft,
and I notice:
Strange shapes can be seen
when the full moon shines through the clouds.
poem by Derek R. Audette
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At The Seaside, A Solitude
the seaside is peaceful
the sky is blue with white cumulus clouds hanging there
slowly they move and change shapes
like the air is painting and mixing the colors in space
gentle hues graceful strokes
the white sands extend to some miles
the coconut trees are like handshakes
their shadows restive and steady
i lay my body weary of the years
i look at all these lines and circles and spheres
i like to give up thinking and just be a spectator
i let them talk and i merely listen
the seaside, the seagull, the clouds, the coconut trees, the white sands,
the circles and spheres and lines extending
to nowhere.
i cover my eyes with a straw hat. I cease.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring Goeth all in White
Spring goeth all in white,
Crowned with milk-white may:
In fleecy flocks of light
O'er heaven the white clouds stray:
White butterflies in the air;
White daisies prank the ground:
The cherry and hoary pear
Scatter their snow around.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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The Sun In Clouds
The sun in clouds,
Dim, dull and subdued outside,
Has ever lost his fierce sunshine?
The layers of clouds
That hide the sun in distant heaven
Could ever reach the worlds of the sun?
The sun is a giant living ball
That lights a hundred lightless worlds
Like a sole bright eye of a pitch-black heaven;
How the world of minute clouds
Reach the flames of the imperious sun,
Who guts all shams and burns all sins?
The sun is not in clouds,
But the eyes in clouds see so,
Those eyes lose shine in front of the light;
How can little frogs
Stretch beyond the clouds
And reach the truth of the sun’s splendours?
For the eyes caught in hazy clouds,
The proud sun is dull and subdued
And humbled by valiant windstorms;
Crack the clouds and see outside;
The sun is as bright and fierce as ever,
Whom no clouds touch nor storms reach.
Clouds may come and clouds may go,
But the sun remains the same,
A bright glow, far removed from the earth,
In gay abandon of an unattached soul,
With floods of light, thrown all round
For those who see with unclouded eyes.
The sun, so hot, none endeavour to reach;
The sun, so bright, none open their eyes;
The sun, the tough, proud lonely splendour
Reigns over heaven in imperial grace;
None reach his height, none withstand his might,
But, win his heart or avoid his sight.
The scorching heat of his inmost core
Creeps like lava on uneasy skin
Thro’ the layers of thick and black clouds;
His unsubdued heat
Rouses wild whirlwinds
That scatter clouds in the nether world.
Beyond the mortal measures, beyond praise and trials,
The sun shines forever;
Beyond minute clouds in the womb of black sky,
The sun shines forever;
For, the celestial glow should light the world
And meet universal goal.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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12. Moonlight River
Black horse, strolling alone, to the river
He lowers his neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, shading the rays from the sky
White horse, treading alone, to the river
She lowers her neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, fusing the shadow into the night
Gradually the clouds disperse, and the moon
Shines warmly on the black horse
It lifts up its head and looks around
The white horse has disappeared.
(Aug 23,2004)
poem by Eugene Issaus
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