3 O'clock In The Morning
the rain stopped
and i have just awakened from a deep sleep
it was earlier than usual
and what i heard are the raindrops leaving the last words of their lives
a tapping of the roof
a heave of a sigh
some monotonous sounds of the waves of the shore
not far from where i am writing
the last whispers of the winds from the trees about to shed their last leaves
the sounds of wild ducks leaving knowing that another storm is coming
i think of you
i think of your search of yourself
i think of myself
how i was once broken and destroyed by the changes of the winds
how i picked up the pieces like some leaves scattered in the forest
beyond repair, i write some memories.
weary, i imagine some moments that i may have been at rest with myself.
i think of you. I think about when the rain shall stop forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
An autumn storm
An autumn storm
~
The sky turned grey, clouds rolled over
A wind picked up howling through trees
Birds took flight, flew into hiding
Rain patted down gathering pace
The horizon drew a charcoal grey
While winds picked up and rain ran down
Windows rattled, trees swayed
Whistling high pitch, almost screaming
The storm it came and raged wild
Then as quickly, as sudden as it came
It broke to clear skies, wisps of cloud
A gentle wind rolling through leaves
Rain soaked water dripping down
Drying in the sun now shining
An autumn storm in its passing
Captured the imagination to write
On an otherwise ordinary day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Raging Storm
Winds howled, while rain drummed on the roof, so loud,
The thin walls squeaked, as heard from shack within,
The flimsy roof, might as well be a shroud,
Of stick and grass, that now has spread so thin.
A gust, so strong, decreed the shack must lean,
While flying leaves and twigs, came speeding by;
Tomorrow's trash, the storm will leave to clean,
Just then a gust, has kissed the roof goodbye.
A calm ensued, but soon, winds howled anew,
No roof waits now, to delight the rain,
Debris, that back to where it came, all flew,
The shack that leaned, is now upright again.
And yet, more storms deep in the heart, still rage
With wayward winds that blow, and rain that strums,
Might sway the soul astray, the coward's wage,
But now a song of hope, within it hums.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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An Autumn Scene
The autumn sun shines through the near naked trees exposing recent abandoned thrush nests those months before were hidden from Mans eyes. The lingering colored, crisp, dying leaves precariously cling until late November winds and rain end their brief lives leaving only their scented remains on the ground.
A scorpion sun shines through near naked
Trees exposing vacant, forsaken nests
Where blue robin eggs laid comfortable hid
From probing Mans eyes and unwelcome guests.
The lingering, colored, crisp, dying leaves
Cling to the branches precariously
Until the blustering wind starts to heave
Its gusts from the north unrelentingly.
Apropos of rain it soon will follow
Deluging hapless, defenseless brown leafs.
The wind and the rain display a grand show
Dislodging the leaves whose lives were so brief.
After the lull of the wind and the rain
What’re left on the ground are scented remains.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Spring's Whisper
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly ~
through forests tall and stately bound,
across the brown and barren ground.
Hushed within dark wintry night.
Chilled by nature's frosty sight.
Whispers whisper to the sea ~
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Above the mountains whispers soar,
a whisper now at heaven's door.
Change follows in expectant glee.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Through meadows far ~ they whisper long,
breathing breaths of springtime song.
Alas, sweet wisps of warming see.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Awakened by the silkened sigh
of whispers softly flying by ~
earth absorbs the sighs like rain
as springtime whispers once again.
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly,
to spread their whispers ~ o'er land and sea
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Storm! ! !
STORM! ! !
It needs to storm, rain like crazy
Thunder, lightning, and winds galore
I miss the pitter patter sounds
Of rain on my window
Watching the light show from abroad
Listening to those angels bowl
The storm relieves the stress in me
Puts my nerves at ease
It makes me sleep well at night
A good nights rest is what I need
Puddles of water gathered in the street
Night crawlers crawling at day
The smell of rain in the air
It’s all about the rain my friend
It’s such a treat
Mike Farris Jr.
poem by Mike Farris Jr.
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Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweeds wove its strands.
The crashin waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new loves breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.
I gazed down in the rivers mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Heard You Spelling My Name
I oddly heard you spelling my name
I answered in the winter winds
the winds blamed my voice still -
your words, a gray cumulus became.
A thunder roar, a storm advent
a message to the gods, dim, latent
my souls depict a thunder's wrath
as I expiate in rain drops thrust.
Not an allusion of a Zeus lightning
all there is real, a force blinding
Athermanous, wet flesh enthralled
and rain-scattered feelings exposed.
I love those drops that kiss my face,
in my esteem, a diamonds edge to trace,
accepts the kindness of this storm,
and this adoration becomes a thorn.
that sweetly penetrates my dream
that attentively out traces my smile
that lovingly stings my eyes gleam
and my words for you compile.
I heard you spelling my name; 't was
a dithering in the winds to abide
the winds became then my voice's loss,
my life, a cumulus became and died.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Whispering Breeze
A soft, whispering breeze, stirs the leaves on the trees,
And then suddenly, a gust, lifts the dry settled dust,
Things start moving about, and now there's no doubt,
That a storm's on the way, coming in from the bay.
So it's shutters up folks, there's no time now, for jokes,
Batten down all things loose, and bring in the old goose,
Or she'll screech out in fright. Now hold her quite tight.
There, the rain has begun, and the winds having fun.
It'll hang around for a bit, so we'll just wait and sit,
Until all's calm once again, with the going of the rain,
Clouds will part, sun will peep, and the foliage weep,
And a soft, whispering breeze, will stir the leaves on the trees.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Autumn Is Coming
Autumn is coming
With gentle breezes
And howling winds
Autumn is coming
To change the colors
To red, brown, and gold
Upon the forest floor
Will lie the leaves of all the trees
When Autumn is here
When the days cool
And the nights grow long
With a bright silver moon in the sky
When the sleepiness sets in
We will sleep until
Winter breaks
Autumn is coming
poem by Autumn Winds
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Some Raindrops On The Roof On The Leaves Of The Bushes
it is a rainy day today.
rain falls unceasingly on the rooftop
tracing the hidden ways of the gutter
falling gently on pines and leaves
of gentle bushes planted beside
a steel gate
painted red.The time comes
when the rain is so gentle and slow
pouring in rhtythm with the swaying
of the palm leaves
every dropp like the meeting
of a dew to another dew
glistening before my eyes
gentle sounds of raindrops
in cadence like a hammock
a swing like the flapping of
a pegion's wings
as i write this poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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In The Wilderness
Leaving all the world to play they disappear
And the leaves have gathered dust to run like deer
Tearing pieces from our lives to feed the dawn
Mist surrounds the seagulls christened by the storm
Music, all I hear is music - guaranteed to please
And I look for something else
Rain drops pouring down the rooftops
Flowing in the drains
As the people run their lives
As their lives are run by time
Fighting enemies with weapons made to kill
Death is easy as a substitute for pride
Victors join together, happy in their bed
Leaving cold outside the children of the dead
Music, all I hear is music - guaranteed to please
And I look for something else
Rain drops pouring down the rooftops
Flowing in the drains
As the people run their lives
As their lives are run by time...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When They Made Love Inside That Cramped Room...
when they made love
that evening
they heard the sounds of
the jungle: tiger mating
birds on love calls
under the trees
above some
elephants screaming
with joy
snakes hissing upon
each body
rubbing rubbers
inside their ears
sounds of new winds
fresh upon each leaf
on the forest trees.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Precious Moments
Looking across the timeless ebbies
that stretches as far as our lives have travelled
searching for precious moments
that were left behind
and now lie hidden in our memories.
Those times when life propelled itself
in spurts of our endeavours,
but always left some precious moments
behind out of our lives.
Like Icarus, we flew too high
for our own self-importance
leaving behind a yearning
for something we had,
but foolishly left so far behind.
Now to relive them
we search the four corners
and hidden crevices of our memory
where broken loves fell.
We want again to dream
of those days of our splendour
and our mistakes in love
that has left a forever yearning
for the things we will never have.
The precious moments that lay scattered
somewhere in the hidden corners
of our distant memories
near the seas of tranquillity.
20 September 2011
poem by David Harris
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Each day I see the long ships coming into port
Each day I see the long ships coming into port
and the people crowding to their rail, glad of the shore:
because to have been alone with the sea and not to have known
of anything happening in any crowded way,
and to have heard no other voice than the crooning sea's
has charmed away the old rancours, and the great winds
have search'd and swept their hearts of the old irksome thoughts:
so, to their freshen'd gaze, each land smiles a good home.
Why envy I, seeing them made gay to greet the shore?
Surely I do not foolishly desire to go
hither and thither upon the earth and grow weary
with seeing many lands and peoples and the sea:
but if I might, some day, landing I reck not where
have heart to find a welcome and perchance a rest,
I would spread the sail to any wandering wind of the air
this night, when waves are hard and rain blots out the land.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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Big Sleep
So where did you go?
Where do you go in the big sleep
Going out in the deep sleep
Is where youre wandering now
So where did you go
When youre in the big sleep
Drifting in wildlife
And still youre wandering now
We were on the top and the world was spinning
We were only young in the whirlpool of warning
Communication lost in the thundering rain style
A shelter from the storm in the early beginning
Going out in the big sleep, out in the big sleep
Could have been years, you know it could have been years
Or only seconds ago
Big sleep, deep sleep
Where are you now?
Now that youre up in big sleep
Valuable friend
They saw you leaving this way
We were on the top and the world was spinning
We were only young in the whirlpool of warning
Communication lost in the thundering rain style
A shelter from the storm in the early beginning
Where did you go?
Immaculate friend
For a lifetime Im grateful
And its only seconds away
Big sleep, deep sleep
For evermore
If only you could see me
If only you could see me
If only you could see
Forever
Coming home in the big sleep
Coming home
Words & music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storm
The tall trees angrily toss their heads.
Many leaves, they rapidly now shed.
The boughs of the trees sway and creak and groan
In the strong wind, as it continues to loudly moan.
Twigs and branches lie broken on the ground.
Fruit, berries and seeds are also now downed.
The wind continues to lose all control and roar,
Leaving folk wondering what damage is in store.
Everyone’s hair is looking completely windswept.
Today, nobody’s normally tidy hair is smartly kept.
The sound of the wind rushes past my ears,
Making other sounds quite difficult to hear.
Many bridges are closed to high-sided trucks,
In case, into the river below, they are sucked.
Rain water collecting in roof guttering now overflows;
Cascading down to the already sodden ground below.
Along the coastline, massive waves pound the sea wall,
Roaring like a mighty lion, as they angrily rise and fall.
The waves are crested with white frothy foam,
And threaten to engulf nearby seafront homes.
In some places, fallen trees are blocking roads;
Any approaching traffic is now abruptly slowed.
Some railway lines, to, are blocked by fallen trees;
Commuters, who are in a rush, this does not please.
Refuse bins fall to the ground with a sudden clatter;
Pouring out their contents of largely decaying matter.
A power cut is caused by fallen electricity cables,
Which workmen will fix as soon as they are able.
Flooding some streets, the heavy rain beats down;
Almost cutting off some of the much smaller towns.
People dash through the rain: their jaws clenched,
But, however fast they run, they still get drenched.
People look far from happy and wear a frown.
They shiver, as the rain falls relentlessly down.
The raging storm causes damage far and wide,
Before it finally calms and decides to subside.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Poem For Those Who Are Sad
did Octavio say that happiness
and charm are cliches?
did he really mean that he
shall write about those who
labor in pain
about those who stopped
smiling because of the
harsh rain
about those who hide
because of the coming storm?
he could be right
not writing about the cliches of
happy days
for they have all enough
that make the sweet syrups
of their eating lives
let me write a poem for those
who are sad
for those who have less
let me write about the opening
of a flower
about the butterflies moving
out from their cocoons
let me write about the
end of the bitter days
for they have less and now
they may have more
through my lines
let me write about the
rising of the sun
the waking up of the boy
from his sleep
and the beginning
of his play on the yard
with his bike
let me write more
about what i really like...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Autumn
The leaves are many under my feet,
And drift one way.
Their scent of death is weary and sweet.
A flight of them is in the grey
Where sky and forest meet.
The low winds moan for sad sweet years;
The birds sing all for pain,
Of a common thing, to weary ears,--
Only a summer's fate of rain,
And a woman's fate of tears.
I walk to love and life alone
Over these mournful places,
Across the summer overthrown,
The dead joys of these silent faces,
To claim my own.
I know his heart has beat to bright
Sweet loves gone by;
I know the leaves that die to-night
Once budded to the sky;
And I shall die from his delight.
O leaves, so quietly ending now,
You heard the cuckoos sing.
And I will grow upon my bough
If only for a spring,
And fall when the rain is on my brow.
O tell me, tell me ere you die,
Is it worth the pain?
You bloomed so fair, you waved so high;
Now that the sad days wane,
Are you repenting where you lie?
I lie amongst you, and I kiss
Your fragrance mouldering.
O dead delights, is it such bliss,
That tuneful Spring?
Is love so sweet, that comes to this?
Kiss me again as I kiss you;
Kiss me again;
For all your tuneful nights of dew,
In this your time of rain,
For all your kisses when Spring was new.
You will not, broken hearts; let be.
I pass across your death
To a golden summer you shall not see,
And in your dying breath
There is no benison for me.
There is an autumn yet to wane,
There are leaves yet to fall,
Which, when I kiss, may kiss again,
And, pitied, pity me all for all,
And love me in mist and rain.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Hurricane Roars and New York Naps
Some still absent power; all absent subways and buses; others
absent theatrical Broadway; still others absent restaurants of
many…but
Hurricane past, not without experiencing its majesty,
terror, and the sublimity of a great storm.
Dark clouds roamed the sky shadowing it and the sun.
Man ran to greet the storm, after meeting, in terror he runs.
The winds round buildings moaning and howling like a pack of wolves.
Yet my shivering legs and feet tap and beat to the sounds:
The furious winds ripping down signs, clashing lamppost; and splintering
objects and tossing to the street; and pulling cranes from their posts and
throwing to the ground.
Even rain and winds chased folk from their homes; stripped trees to the bare bone.
Young sprightly trees swayed before humbly bowing, yet the shore was fully exposed
to the East river's surge and the Atlantic Ocean's waves reminding me of the climate changes and its beauty and power!
Bye, bye, bye Sandy: New York just awakens from her nap!
By
Almedia Knight-Oliver
October 30,2012
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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