En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sudden Shower

Black grows the southern sky, betokening rain,
And humming hive-bees homeward hurry bye:
They feel the change; so let us shun the grain,
And take the broad road while our feet are dry.
Ay, there some dropples moistened on my face,
And pattered on my hat--tis coming nigh!
Let's look about, and find a sheltering place.
The little things around, like you and I,
Are hurrying through the grass to shun the shower.
Here stoops an ash-tree--hark! the wind gets high,
But never mind; this ivy, for an hour,
Rain as it may, will keep us dryly here:
That little wren knows well his sheltering bower,
Nor leaves his dry house though we come so near.

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Rain

Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
I am standing up at the waters edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It cant be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Well Ive seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down
There is no blood around see no sign of pain
Hay ay ay no pain
Seeing no red at all, see no rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Red rain-
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defences down
With the trust of a child
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I cant watch any more
No more denial
Its so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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July The First

The grey roos sheltering beneath the pine trees it is a wet and a wintery Winter's day
Yet in the rain the magpie he is piping on a high branch of a tall mountain gray
And yet the weather is not cold or chilly it does not seem a bad start to July
The Winter sun by the rain is hidden and overcast looking the morning sky
The Southern Winter I feel is far more pleasant than the Southern Summer at least the weather never gets too cold
That I do find mild Winter days a bit chilly has to be proof I must be getting old
On the Winter flowering trees the red wattlebirds are calling they have a certain hoarseness in their cry
And the pied currawongs the dark crow sized birds their karrawang notes are uttering as through the park from tree to tree they fly,
The white cockatoos in the drizzling rain are squawking from other birds them one cannot mistake
They are at their noisiest in the gloam of evening and in the early morning at daybreak
Three species of white cockatoo the sulphur crested and long billed and short billed corella by voice and appearance from each other not hard to identify
They live in large flocks and to each other nearby,
The rain drizzling down from a sky that's gloomy gray
But for July the first it is mild enough for a Winter's day.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep in Spring, the Rain's Passed

Spring deep rain pass west lake good
Hundred grass vie beauty
Butterfly confused bee noisy
Clear day hurry flower warm almost blaze

Lily oar paint barge unhurried go
Suspect be spirit
Reflected light ripple in
Water broad wind high carry pipes strings
Deep in spring, the rain's passed- West Lake is good.
A hundred grasses vie in beauty,
Confusion of butterflies, clamour of bees,
The clear day hurries the blossom to burst forth in the warmth.

Oars in lilies, a painted barge moving without haste.
I think I see a band of sprites-
Light reflected in the ripples,
The high wind carries music over the broad water.

poem by Ouyang Xiu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Autumn Interlude

I said goodbye to the bees last Friday week,
To blooms, and to things like these, for Winter bleak
Was shouting loud from the hills, and flinging high
His gossamer net that fills frail Autumn's sky.
So I said goodbye to the bees; for I knew that soon
I should bask no more 'neath the trees on some high noon
And hark to the drowsy hum close overhead.
For the cold and rain must come, now Summer's dead.

So I wallowed a while in woe and wooed unease;
And I rather liked it so; for it seemed to please
Some clamoring inner urge - some need apart,
And I felt self-pity surge, here, in my heart
As I said goodbye to the bees, my tireless friends
Who toil mid the flowers and the trees till daylight ends
Who toil in the sun, yet seem to find no irk,
While I loll in the shade and dream; for I do love work.

Ah, fate and the falling leaf! How dear is woe.
How subtly sweet is grief (Synthetic). So
I said goodbye to the bees; and then I wrote
This crown of threhodies, while in my throat
I choked back many a sob and salt tears spent.
But I felt I'd done my job, and was content.
For I'd penned my piece to the bees - the poet's tosh
Of the Autumn's drear unease. Ah, me! Oh, gosh!

I said goodbye to the bees last Friday week....
Then the tempest shook the trees, the swollen creek
Went thundering down to the plain, the wind shrieked past,
And the cold, and the wet, wet rain were here at last....
Then, a hot sun, scorning rules, shone forth, alack!
And those blundering, blithering fools, the bees came back,
Humming a song inance in the rain-washed trees. . . .
Now it's all to do again. . . . Oh, blast the bees!

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Presentiment

'Oh father, let us hence--for hark,
A fearful murmur shakes the air.
The clouds are coming swift and dark:--
What horrid shapes they wear!
A winged giant sails the sky;
Oh father, father, let us fly!'

'Hush, child; it is a grateful sound,
That beating of the summer shower;
Here, where the boughs hang close around,
We'll pass a pleasant hour,
Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain,
Has swept the broad heaven clear again.'

'Nay, father, let us haste--for see,
That horrid thing with horned brow,--
His wings o'erhang this very tree,
He scowls upon us now;
His huge black arm is lifted high;
Oh father, father, let us fly!'

'Hush, child;' but, as the father spoke,
Downward the livid firebolt came,
Close to his ear the thunder broke,
And, blasted by the flame,
The child lay dead; while dark and still,
Swept the grim cloud along the hill.

poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rain

I.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

II.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
Where the boat had snapt its chain--
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

III.

The rain! the rain! the rain!--
Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the green byways--
How beautiful it was!
And the new-made man and wife
Stood at the window-pane
Like two glad children kept from school.--
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Rain

The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.

poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Bees Never Give Up

Every time, they crush the bees to death and
Steal away their sweet honey in a trice;
And wax to make candles of immense size;
The Queen bee escapes to another land.

The bees comeback; with vengeance start again
A small bee-hive in the very same place!
They work extra in the sun and in rain,
Buzzing to flowers in a frenzied pace.

And soon their hive has been rebuilt and full,
Of sweet honey and larvae that are fed;
The bees continuing without a lull,
Searching for more nectar in every mead.

How well Nature takes care of its species!
Man must learn from the bee-hive and the bees.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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February Rain

To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You And The Tree

As I see you standing there
looking at that tree.
Many a thought come flocking by
deep-down inside of me.

I can't decide whats more beautiful
You or the tree?
I stand flummoxed, captivated
Immersed in deep mystery.

I find you protective as the tree
sheltering me in your arms.
I find you reassuring as the tree
Always believing in me, always firm.

You protect me from life's harsh realities
as the tree shades the rain and light.
You shield me from all misery,
you give me a reason to fight.

Whatever it is, I don't care.
I want both of you here.
The tree for its shade and you as my mate
And then i can spend ages here.

poem by Bistirna Barua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain

Don't you think it's sad?
Happiness is dead, our rain has gone
Building up the walls
Just to see them fall away
Which way should I go?
Further up as I float
Trying to understand
Keep my feet on the ground
And live again
I'm coming down, I see myself
On the sand, I walk again
Through this land of rain
I think we know
My conscience grows
Within myself two different roads
So far from home, again
Which way should I go?
Further up as I float
Trying to understand
Keep my feet on the ground
And live again
I'm coming down, I see myself
On the sand, I walk again
Through this land of rain
Somewhere there's a place that I can be
Somewhere there is air that I can breathe in
Someday pretty soon they're gonna believe
Believe in me, believe in me
Here comes the ground, I see it now
I'm coming down, all by myself
On the sand, I walk again
Through this land of rain
Of rain, of rain, of rain

song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leaves (thread)

under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave

early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree

palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein

widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf

with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers

fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind

October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark

leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons

morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder

leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song

These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:

poem by Ben Gieske
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainmaker

When I was wandering in the desert
And was searching for the truth
I heard a choir of angels calling out my name
I had the feeling that my life would never be the same again
I turned my face towards the barren sun
And I know of the pain that you feel the same as me
And I dream of the rain as it falls upon the leaves
And the cracks in our lives like the cracks upon the ground
They are sealed and are now washed away
You tell me we can start the rain
You tell me that we all can change
You tell me we can find something to wash the tears away
You tell me we can start the rain
You tell me that we all can change
You tell me we can find something to wash the tears.....
And I know of the pain that you feel the same as me
And I dream of the rain as it falls upon the leaves
And the cracks in the ground like the cracks are in our lives
They are sealed and now far away
You tell me we can start the rain
You tell me that we all can change
You tell me we can find something to wash the tears away
You tell me we can start the rain
You tell me that we all can change
You tell me we can find something to wash the tears.....
And I know of the pain that you feel the same as me
And I dream of the rain as it falls upon the leaves
And the cracks in the ground like the cracks are in our lives
They are sealed and now far away

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Summer Pool

THERE is a singing in the summer air,
The blue and brown moths flutter o’er the grass,
The stubble bird is creaking in the wheat,
And perch’d upon the honeysuckle-hedge
Pipes the green linnet. Oh, the golden world!
The stir of life on every blade of grass,
The motion and the joy on every bough,
The glad feast everywhere, for things that love
The sunshine, and for things that love the shade!

Aimlessly wandering with weary feet,
Watching the wool white clouds that wander by,
I come upon a lonely place of shade,—
A still green Pool, where with soft sound and stir
The shadows of o’erhanging branches sleep,
Save where they leave one dreamy space of blue,
O’er whose soft stillness ever and anon
The feathery cirrus blows. Here unaware
I pause, and leaning on my staff I add
A shadow to the shadows; and behold!
Dim dreams steal down upon me, with a hum
Of little wings, a murmuring of boughs,
The dusky stir and motion dwelling here,
Within this small green world. O’ershadow’d
By dusky greenery, tho’ all around
The sunshine throbs on fields of wheat and bean,
Downward I gaze into the dreamy blue,
And pass into a waking sleep, wherein
The green boughs rustle, feathery wreaths of cloud
Pass softly, piloted by golden airs:
The air is still,—no birds sing any more,—
And helpless as a tiny flying thing,
I am alone in all the world with God.

The wind dies—not a leaf stirs—on the Pool
The fly scarce moves; earth seems to hold her breath
Until her heart stops, listening silently
For the far footsteps of the coming rain!

While thus I pause, it seems that I have gain’d
New eyes to see; my brain grows sensitive
To trivial things that, at another hour,
Had pass’d unheeded. Suddenly the air
Shivers, the shadows in whose midst I stand
Tremble and blacken—the blue eye o’ the Pool
Is clos’d and clouded; with a sudden gleam
Oiling its wings, a swallow darteth past,
And weedling flowers beneath my feet thrust up
Their leaves, to feel the fragrant shower. Oh, hark!
The thirsty leaves are troubled into sighs,
And up above me, on the glistening boughs,
Patters the summer rain!

Into a nook,
Screen’d by thick foliage of oak and beech,
I creep for shelter; and the summer shower
Murmurs around me. Oh, the drowsy sounds!
The pattering rain, the numerous sigh of leaves,
The deep, warm breathing of the scented air,
Sink sweet into my soul—until at last,
Comes the soft ceasing of the gentle fall,
And lo! the eye of blue within the Pool
Opens again, while with a silvern gleam
Dew diamonds twinkle moistly on the leaves,
Or, shaken downward by the summer wind,
Fall melting on the Pool in rings of light!

poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Number One

Words and music by joni mitchell
Got to be a winner--trophy winner
Get to hold your head up high up!
Number one!
Got to be a winner--trophy winner
Get to hold your head up high up!
Number one!
Number one
Number one
Honey tell me--
When your working day is done--
Were you reaching for the high rung--
Reaching to be number one?
You get a car
You want a boat
You want an eenie-meenie-miney miney-moe
Oh there must be more to living
Than a mortgage and a lawn to mow
Sweaty work
And lucky breaks
And blood and tears is all it takes
To be a winner!
People cheer
And people gasp
People want your autograph
When youre a winner!
Run, run, run, run
Lets see you run
Well be betting by the starting gun!
Shall we shower you with flowers
Or shall we shun ya
When your race is run?
Will we shower you with flowers
Or will we shun ya
When your race is run?
Will they shower you with flowers
Or will they shun ya
When your race is run?
Got to be a winner--trophy winner
Get to hold your head up high up!
Number one!

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Land

When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.

In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.

Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.

Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green--
(These have sure to battle been!)--
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.

When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time--
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on a the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain... Rain... Rain...!

Rain on tinned roof
Rain on concrete
Rain soaking into sands
Rain on soft earth
Rain on metal road
Rain on windscreen

Rain falling into the sea
Rain in the river

Rain on flowers
Rain on leaves
Rain under trees
Rain on hills

Rain on my skin…

Each with its own unique raga
Reverberates across the sky
On to the earth…

05aug2010
10.30hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Rain Comes

Youve come to me again my friend. Ive been waiting so long.
Life seems strange and hard sometimes, maybe I wont make it this time.
Oh theyve taken all I have, but I just need whats left of today, and you can wash it all away.
When it all comes down and Im feeling tired and afraid,
Youre always there, and seem come when Ive nothing left to give away.
Now I wait for your winds to come and give me breath for another day, and your rain to wash me.
I feel the rain coming. I feel it in my heart, take away my pain.
I feel the rain coming. wash me down, wash me down.
Here comes the rain. hold me now, just for awhile.
I feel like a candle flame in the wind. the dust of my deeds past, covers me, like a fading lie.
I feel the rain coming. I feel it in my heart, wash away my pain.
Wash me down, wash me down. I feel the rain coming.
Here comes the rain.

song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Requiem for a rainy day

In stripes the drops splatter against the window
while others join them in a rainstorm,
the blue white of a thunder flash
that falls instantaneously
stays brightly caught on the inner eye
while some drops are still hanging.

On such a drizzly day,
it is said that my dad
was carried to his grave,
with the wind
drawing on mothers black veil
cypresses whipping to and thro
and tears were pouring down,

while the pastor read again
from the Bible and prayed,
people said their last words,
lying rose petals down during the rain,

but in my memory (that of a three year old child) ,
I remember it as a sunny day
on which black cars in a procession
parked just behind our house,

with people with shining shoes
walking on the dirt road
to where the cemetery
was situated across from the house.

With every rain shower
the one side of that grave
now wants to cave in still further
with the branches of the tree that was planted
thoughtlessly on mother’s place fluttering.

[Reference: Requiem vir ‘n reëndag (Requiem for a rainy day) by H.J. Pieterse.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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