As the Monsoon Recedes
Besides the heady fragrance
Of the wet earth,
Freashly bathed green trees,
(Evoking images of a damsel
stroking her wet tresses)
Garden weeds,
And the sound of the rain
Music to my ears, after
Scorching summer,
Dust storms and hot winds.
I loved the
Croaking of the frogs.
After dusk fall
Twinkling fireflies.
The call of the Cicadas,
Although a bit
Eerie at night.
I would exclaim
Monsoon brings
Wild life
Full of sounds
And pleasing sights,
Though the family
didn't share my delight
Now, as the
Monsoon recedes
I realise, those sounds
Had long since died,
Couldn’t survive and adapt
To polluted environment.
Victims of
thoughtless human activity.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
As the Monsoon Retreats
Besides the smell
Of the earth,
Lush green trees,
Garden weeds,
And the sound of the rain
Music to my ears, after
Dust storms and hot winds.
I loved the
Croaking of the frogs.
After dusk fall
Twinkling fireflies.
The call of the Cicadas,
Although a bit
Eerie at night.
I would exclaim
Monsoon brings
Wild life
Full of sounds
And delightful sights
Now, as the
Monsoon recedes
I realise, those sounds
Had long since died,
Couldn’t survive and adapt
To polluted environment.
It’s a pity,
Nature has become
A victim
Of human activity.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Monsoon at peak! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Monsoon at peak
I hear a monologue-
Rain speaks…
Monsoon at peak,
Thatched roofs
Leak…
Monsoon at peak,
Corn on cob
Wins over coffee…
Monsoon at peak,
Can I go out, mother?
A child pleads…
Monsoon at peak,
A boy steals a look
At a girl soaked to skin…
Monsoon at peak,
Roads flooded,
Where is MCD?
Monsoon at peak,
Umbrellas
New fashion accessory…
Monsoon at peak,
Sun gets much needed
Rest…
Monsoon at peak,
Bathes
Foliage and trees.
Monsoon at peak
Schools closed
Children squeal,
Wish, it rains
Everyday of the week…
Monsoon at peak,
Leave your shoes at the door-
Mother screams…
Monsoon at peak,
Driver stops
To wipe the wind shield…
Monsoon at peak,
Open pavements
Home to many,
Wear deserted look …
Monsoon at peak,
Wet laundry-
Sun rise, please.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Monsoon Woes II
Nothing to set
Summer apart
Fading monsoon dreams!
Scorching sun
Dripping sweat
Awaiting rain!
Sterile cloud
Pricking heat
Rain holiday!
Reptiles crawling
Spewing hot venom
Respite sought!
Hot vapours rose
Still thirsty, sun gulped rain
Humid heat returns!
Drought gets sprinkled
Like arid seeds and dust
Darkness around eyes!
Sun stomps
Grass seed bud and beetle
Mud cakes'dirge!
Baked earth
Dry eyes
Silent mourning!
Clouds collide
Empty vessels cling clang
Wrinkled earth, lost!
Dust in the eyes
Dust in the ears
Dust in the hands!
Storms do rise
Not on the sea
Of dust on earth!
From cracks of earth
Crawl reptiles upwards
For cool respite!
Yesterday's dead dog
Lies baked and stiff
None to care!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The First Rain of Monsoon
In the month of May
The Summer does sway
The first rain of Monsoon
The drizzling started very soon
The weather is so pleasing
In the evening
The breeze is blowing
the leaves are hovering
At the tender touch of rain drops
Rain is good for upcoming crops
The nature get rejuvenated
Spirit of living life elevated
Water in the form of rain
Never goes in vain
Whether India, England or Spain
People wish rain to come again
Pouring in the valleys, raining in the plain
The thirsty Earth values the rain
After the rain sky is clear
The shining leaves become dear
Listen to the music of nature
New melody of every creature
Flattering of the leaves together
Soft gargling sound of water
Enjoying the rain with pleasure
Writing poem on beauty of nature
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
{Written on 12 May,2012 on experiencing the soft touch of first drizzle of the Monsoon in Delhi. The weather was unforgettable and moments cherishable.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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A Lemon Sunshine Day
To float among the new summer clouds
and under a new full silver moon I can
see the shadows looking back down at me
to smell the night time fragrance from
the first Honey Suckle trees to bloom
to feel the new summer winds blowing
through my hair, whispering new
summer secrets in my ear.
And on the first new dawn of summer
to smell new smells, and natures old
forgotten familiar ones to stop and
hear a Robins babies peeping from
their nest hidden sunggled among
the Honey Suckle flowers, and branches.
The crickets are performing their first
concert of the summer.
With the smell of fresh summer
dirt comes Gods creatures so
small their emergeing from
cracks and crevasses of the
ground after their winter slumber.
Grandmas tulips are no longer
sleeping, their begining to stretch
looking up to that lemon summer sun,
to warm their new tips that have
started to emerge up through the ground.
Each new summer day some thing
new awakens to show its beauty..
New sounds, forgotten sounds
my garden has slept far to long.
Now the lemon summer sun has
started to do her job winter blankets
are no longer needed the blooms
have yet to be born, their in their
embryo stage.
But it will not be long until Gods
color pallette will explode and
the flowers will stand up and dance
in their dresses of beautiful colors.
The fragrance will fill the garden
all of this under the lemon summer
sun.
And on this the first day of summer.
GAYLE GOFF
JAN 2009
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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The Sound Of The Rain
do not mislead me with the
point-of-view of the frog
you croak and you say this
is how something beautiful
sounds, how ugliness feigns
i tell you i like the rain and
the frog likes it too, i am
one of those frogs bathing
and jumping on the pond,
but do not mislead me with
your sound, it does not sound
like the hush of the wind,
it has no color of the moon,
i am one of the frogs of this
pond, but i do not wish to
sound like you: i am in love
with the sound of the rain,
and this is the one that makes
me stay. It is not you, your
sound is not gentle, it is
rough like the skin of the
teething toad. I love the
rain, the way it sounds,
and that is enough
for my suffering.
Dripping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: Life’s A Mix
The sky is blue with fluffy clouds and clear;
It rained all cats and dogs till yesterday;
Bird-melodies on nearby trees, I hear;
How long it will thus stay, no one can say.
The mid-day sun is scorching on each head;
It looks like summer ’midst rainy weather;
The drought had left cattle and plants much dead!
Let Heaven send the monsoon rain, brother!
In life will come both joys and sorrows too;
To stay balanced, we need both friend and foe;
Just take the things as they come up to you;
Our earthly life, we must thus undergo.
But things do happen for the good of all;
God helps each one to get up aft’r a fall!
poem by John Celes
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A Poem On A Lonely Monsoon Night
Each dropp of rain
Oozing joy unbound
Contains within itself
The seed, the sapling
Followed by flowers
Whispering petals
Gushing waters
Paper boats
And damp clothes
Time for monsoon fun
If you wake up with drizzle
On your face
Cool breeze tickling
Through the pores
Verging on summer's finale
And smiling monsoon
July is a strange month
Of expectation
And disappointment alike
Longing spreads as a bed spread
On lonely monsoon nights
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Prelude to autumn! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
As the monsoon recedes, with vengeance
Sun livid strikes back, but gives up pretence
By mid noon, it retreats and westwards race,
Far from city scape, it slips leaving no trace.
Dusk falls at six, in blows a gentle breeze.
Festive season on, feel like drape silk weaves.
House is plunged in the darkness, but moon beams
Gently descend and rest on leaves it seems.
My upturned face is touched by their caress
Palm fronds swing and night strolls in at its pace.
Cicadas have made a quiet exit with the rain,
I embrace the quiet; no background score or strains.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Ode to Drowning
is it or is it not
the cold monsoon
bearing the shape
of my dark lord,
speaking of his cruelty
his going away?
— Nammalvar
i.
This is an ode
to be sung
in the latest hour of night
when the rain clouds
have gathered
over shingled roofs
and blue-skinned gods
with magical flutes
seduce the virgins to dance
For there is no love
without music
No rain
without peacocks
perched
in branches
of sandalwood trees
with plumes
of angels
and voices of thieves
pleading for their loves
to return
ii.
If rain signals
the lover's return
then I am lost
in the desert
burning
like the brain fever bird
looking for images of you
through mesquite
and teak
Because there's no sign
of you
or what I know
to be as you
only clouds adrift
in a vanquished sky
like vines
of throbbing arms
and mouths
drinking at the shore
intoxicated
with the night
iii.
There are as many ways
of yearning
as there are ways for rain
to fall
slow
incessant
gentle
squalling
melancholy
warm
It's that old idea
of drowning
in another to find the self
the compliance
that water gives in form
and depth
to something else
But what if the humming bees
are quiet
and the garlands of jasmine
have been laid out
to dry
How long to wait
for everything to turn
heavy with flower
immodestly green
washed of dirt
iv.
It's desire after all
that spins us
Demands to be praised
as though it were new
like the stillness
before the first monsoon
when the hymen
of the earth
is torn into
and the brazen smell
of damp
fills the air
Must there be surprise
after we've thundered
and rolled
and appeased our thirst
when the silence returns
again
In truth
isn't it a waiting
that never ends
like the chasm between
the cycles of the world
Between separation
and union
longing and abandonment
And somewhere
between the waning
isn't this what
we're left with
the music
of uncertainty
the aftertaste of rain
poem by Tishani Doshi
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The Summons
MY ear is full of summer sounds,
Of summer sights my languid eye;
Beyond the dusty village bounds
I loiter in my daily rounds,
And in the noon-time shadows lie.
I hear the wild bee wind his horn,
The bird swings on the ripened wheat,
The long green lances of the corn
Are tilting in the winds of morn,
The locust shrills his song of heat.
Another sound my spirit hears,
A deeper sound that drowns them all;
A voice of pleading choked with tears,
The call of human hopes and fears,
The Macedonian cry to Paul!
The storm-bell rings, the trumpet blows;
I know the word and countersign;
Wherever Freedom's vanguard goes,
Where stand or fall her friends or foes,
I know the place that should be mine.
Shamed be the hands that idly fold,
And lips that woo the reed's accord,
When laggard Time the hour has tolled
For true with false and new with old
To fight the battles of the Lord!
O brothers! blest by partial Fate
With. power to match the will and deed,
To him your summons comes too late
Who sinks beneath his armor's weight,
And has no answer but God-speed!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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monsoon has set in
croaking breaks the still of nights
brings snakes to old ponds
haiku by John Celes
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Law And Poetry
black and white like the point of view of
the cat is the law
hard to deal with
hair splitting and building
fences and trenches
keeping some enemies out
and friends in
keeping the nets catch the smaller one
but letting the sharks go
that is the first law
poetry: it is the hues of rainbow after the rain
flowers that bloom without much explanation
the sounds of her steps wading in the water
kisses without the penalties
making love without the risks of getting inside
some prison walls
the one that makes us so light as clouds and feathers
makes our hearts dance the ballet and do the triple twists and turns
in mid air
the music to our soul
the liberation of our bound spirits
the singing birds and cicadas in symphony
the frogs croaking
celebrating the first long rainy night ahead of me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Voices of Earth
We have not heard the music of the spheres,
The song of star to star, but there are sounds
More deep than human joy and human tears,
That Nature uses in her common rounds;
The fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
The oak, the roaring of the sea's surge, might
Of thunder breaking afar off, or rain
That falls by minutes in the summer night.
These are the voices of earth's secret soul,
Uttering the mystery from which she came.
To him who hears them grief beyond control,
Or joy inscrutable without a name,
Wakes in his heart thoughts bedded there, impearled,
Before the birth and making of the world.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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A Poem On A Monsoon Afternoon
On this monsoon afternoon
As I lie in an uneasy stupor
An inexplicable power of magic
Insulates me.
Many images float
On the thin veil of my eye
That renders the routine humdrum,
Hazy and fading
The world now is
The monsoon-sea
The Moonlight
And you.
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Drizzling
Toop Taap Toop Taap
Tip Tip Tip Tip
Raindrops fall
All day long!
A yellow bird sings –
What a joy it brings!
Raindrops fall
All day long!
Now monsoon wind blows –
You and I are close!
The yellow frogs croak
No it’s not a joke!
Raindrops fall
All day long!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Monsoon
Father sun isn't rude anymore
For he is in his transition chore more
Aippasi is all set at Libra's door
Farther monsoon is nearer to pour
Heigh ho sing, 'clouds are scudding forth'
Sultry souls are out to graze
In the field of showery grace
Aippasi embarks on with revenent mirth
Sunbaked earth is in quenching race
Monsoon is merry with magnified girth
Interim events illumine monsoon
Celebrated celestials marry soon
Sin-hewn demons defeated to maroon
Ravana, Narakasura slain to a festive boon
Heigh ho sing merrily 'merry merry Deepavali'
May the ignorant heart doesn't croon
But let the lit up soul tune
Monsoon thence on cloud nine rapturously
Monsoon is heaven of bliss-immune
Say so, a harp of pattering music lifely
Monsoon is dexterously good
Yet sometimes opens its monstrous hood
Thamiraparani expels Kurukkuthurai Lord
Even so spears Tharaka, Padmasura the Lord
Heigh ho sing, 'vel vel vetrivel vetrivel'
Marries happily Valli the victorious Lord
Enlights the house of earth monsoon savvied
Abashed monsoon assures to shrivel
Leaving its imprint in wintry cold
Say so 'may His fulgency our pride too quell
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Music of nature
I forget all other sounds
When I listen
To the music of nature
It soothes my heart and soul
It’s pleasing to my ears
Sound of flowing water,
Chirping of birds
Pouring of rain,
Whistling of the wind
Takes me to the world of god
Rattling of leaves on the tree
Humming of bees
Buzzing of wasps is
Devotional music to my ears?
I feel nearer to god
Whenever I listen
To the music of nature
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Betrayal at the Worst of Times Needs No Remorse!
A flock of sparrows were twittering
in the branches of the Neem trees.
The cold breeze from the rain-fed tank
was rustling the leaves, embracing
and solacing my body bereft of sleep.
The waves from the watery expanse,
dashing and breaking on the bank
were making regular clapping sounds.
The green paddy crops in the vast stretch of fields
were waving and dancing in the blowing wind.
The bees were straining droning sounds
and the butterflies were sailing over me.
The flowers of wild plants on the slopes of the bank
were flaming in the hot summer.
I was lying on the bank in the shades of the trees,
with my mind roaming around her
and my eyes staring at the sky above.
For betraying me at the worst of times,
she conveyed to me her words of regret,
and wanted to see me once,
to weep out her sinking grief.
But I didn't get a chance to look at that rueful face
and from my heart I couldn't also erase it out.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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