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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sounds of Nature
Sounds of Nature,
brings an echo
to my ear.
So gentle are,
their call
to my heart
Seeing this all,
birds making music,
to my ear
Sweet smell of
flowers still developing
oh, the spendor of it all
Sounds of Nature
brings an echo
to my ear.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Hear Nature's Voice
You hear Nature's voice in the river that ever flows on towards the sea
A voice destined to live forever that has lived for untold centuries
From the foothills of the high country it babbles downhill night and day
By groves and by ditches and hedgerows to saltwater it winds it's way.
You hear Nature's voice in her birdsong their music carrying in the breeze
The sounds that the freshening winds make rustling in the leaves of the trees
Some of the happier sounds of Nature though to Nature there's another side
When Nature she shouts out her anger all others from her seek a safe place to hide.
When Nature she grows very angry the fear of the World is in her cry
She shakes the Earth flattens great buildings she roars and her lightning flashes in the sky
She crackles when her forests burn leaving blackness and smoke everywhere
With the power of Nature in a fury none other can hope to compare.
You hear Nature's voice in all Seasons Winter, Spring and Summer and Fall
And you hear Nature's voice in the night-time when her nocturnal creatures do call
Nature's voice will live on forever 'tis something not destined to die
As Nature herself does not have a time span as such are for mortals such as I.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Monsoon Nights
I miss it...
The smell of the initial raindrops as they hit
The dry parched earth
Waiting, eagerly
for the rain to quench her thirst.
I remember
The happiness I felt hearing
The staccato notes the fat raindrops made on my tin rooftop
A torrent to be swept up in.
I miss it...
The feel of my skin under your hands
Somehow it felt softer, smoother, silkier
Next to you.
I remember
How I felt like my tongue tasted sweeter
In your mouth...
Hibiscus nectar.
Those monsoon full moon nights
When I would sneak away to meet you.
We'd walk hand in hand
Till we came to our favorite banyan tree
And the frogs would serenade us.
Fireflies would light our way.
I remember your face in the moonlight
They way your it would tilt
Before
You kissed me.
I remember thinking
I don't ever want to leave
That cocoon of a world we built around us
Laughed and played and loved in.
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
monsoon has set in
croaking breaks the still of nights
brings snakes to old ponds
haiku by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The City And The Town
this is what the city has to offer
neon lights, ambulance screams,
loud music, beer and ale,
a small room, a busy life,
a little sleep,
exquisite dinners,
late shows, gags, gigs.
but i have enough of all these,
i went to the little town
and have this wooden house,
beside a river, there are flowers
blooming and vegetable gardens,
and tranquil horizons,
a beautiful sunset
a brighter sunrise,
crustal clear rivers,
home fishing, and mountain treks,
and fresh smell of green grass,
and cool shades of trees,
mountain shadows,
full moons and singing birds
love calls, and fresh fruits
direct from the trees,
wild chickens, and
horses to ride and carabaos
to pasture, goats to feed
and turkey chases,
a very peaceful sleep at night
under the moon
lamp-lit room and some cicadas
in concert with the frogs
and crickets and worms
and then the rain
starts to fall
you hear the sweet hum
of the nearby river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
CIcada's Song
That fog at dusk can almost be heard,
As heavy as the thundering of a bass drum.
Night birds beat their wings as gracefully as
A dancer would, with agility
Beneath the light of
Venus…
Listen to the sounds of the
Cicadas calling in the midday or their
Chanting in the twilight while their plaintive tune resonates throughout the forest-
Dewdrops decorate the surface of the ground and
Only angels can truly see rain in the dead of the night.
Dark days or dismal afternoons,
Foggy and overcast as a sorcerer’s nightmare-
Only the downpours of tears bring universal sorrow-
Rain or tears, the same, never ending …
Naiads weep with the full moon at midnight, for
The rain won’t cease to pour and their tears-
They just keep on falling, to mingle with the moisture
That blankets the surface of the earth-
Sky lightening illuminates the heavens as thunder claps.
God is wakening, opening the skies.
Cicadas carry on
With their cacophonous, though
Dolorous and melodious song, as
The moon disappears behind the mountains,
The rain ceases to fall and the sun rises and
Nature weeps her silent tears of joy.
Fog tip-toes behind the thicket, and
Disappears past the horizon while the
World dances in blissful wakefulness…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A blossom
As it Blooms in silence
I was truly allured
a flower's humble beauty
her future ensured
exceptional glamor I spotted
in this lovely garden of her.
Rain fall softly on her petals
it fell down slowly light as feather
the shimmering and sparkling
of the thick and dripping humid;
condensing in every bud
in this lovely garden of her.
The blurry vision of early dawn fog,
the charming rays of peeking sun,
those silencing sounds of earth
makes most sense of elegance
in this lovely garden of her.
The wind blowing in rhythm
setting free the dancing pecks
the melody of the ambiance,
the sweet smell of honey-nectar,
the aroma of her sincerity
that brings all my joy,
draws every smile in my face
each day of my life
in this lovely garden of her.
Yet there came a time the wind blew hard
Drought came fast and wither starts
little by little her throat seized
grasping her breath she naught fought.
The skies turned black and lights blinks fast
then her crave they overfed to death
overhead came the water dark
'None could ever survive'
They proven wrong...
For the dusk end and the night came
The moon came yet not to help
the tide higher he hath even made..
Alas! Dawn breaks& moon withdraws
The sun came and peek again
in this lovely garden of her...
There the earth witness her wilt
yet new life brought by rain and shine..
a humble blossom in joy and gloom
a story in cycle in this lovely garden of her...
poem by Ellirie Aviles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Its Croaking Shows Its Presence! !
The croaking echoes through the neighborhood,
the blasting croaking echoes as braying,
sometimes as barking, another time as whistling,
the sounds of croaking may crack our heads,
in the tropical region where it rains,
every other day and musical begins,
with the mono syllabic cricket,
house lizards join them occasionally,
The frogs repeats one day and one night,
as the Native American folklore says,
brother sun agreed and the bear hibernated,
the frogs repeat one day and one night,
it may not be alive the next day,
unnecessary croaking,
is being heard by something,
that slithers and hungry,
its croaking showed its presence,
right to the mouth of that reptile.
In the middle of the meetings,
some of us croak to show our presence,
Croak the wrong information,
out of our peanut brains,
sometimes we croak in the viva verse,
mostly something the invigilators unaware,
fail us then and there,
keeping quiet, sometimes good,
people assume that we know many things,
Politicians croak,
clergies croak,
our teachers croak,
our parents croak,
our children croak,
you and I croak,
our nature make us to croak,
most of the times we get caught,
because we croak a lot.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pollen Call Is Rainbow Pot Of Gold To El Dorado
walk within fields walk within woods
walk upon prairie grass or wild tundra
all is listening nature all nature listens
observe quiet hare sure big ears hears
but the bumblebee does not have ears
how then is it a fuzzy bumblebee hears
it is not known whether a bumblebee hears
it is not known how fuzzy bumblebee hears
a bumblebee could hear sound waves passing
sound waves soft passing through freedom air
a bumblebee can feel the vibrations of sounds
vibrations of sounds through wood materials
a bumblebee could hear sound through legs
a bumblebee could hear sound through fuzz
fuzzy body to kept warm to keep out winds
to keep out wind chill so as not to catch chills
a bumblebee watches golden pollen showers
a bumblebee dances among flowers for hours
pollen call is rainbow pot of gold to El Dorado
vessels of golden one flower air in fertilization
flights seed flowers in colours shapes miraculous
heavens ablaze seed colour shape smell lure scent
heaven kiss nectar pollen rewards await joy flight
flights of impossibility sow wild flower seed scent
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!