The O'Rahilly
SING of the O'Rahilly,
Do not deny his right;
Sing a 'the' before his name;
Allow that he, despite
All those learned historians,
Established it for good;
He wrote out that word himself,
He christened himself with blood.
How goes the weather?
Sing of the O'Rahilly
That had such little sense
He told Pearse and Connolly
He'd gone to great expense
Keeping all the Kerry men
Out of that crazy fight;
That he might be there himself
Had travelled half the night.
How goes the weather?
'Am I such a craven that
I should not get the word
But for what some travelling man
Had heard I had not heard?'
Then on pearse and Connolly
He fixed a bitter look:
'Because I helped to wind the clock
I come to hear it strike.'
How goes the weather?
What remains to sing about
But of the death he met
Stretched under a doorway
Somewhere off Henry Street;
They that found him found upon
The door above his head
'Here died the O'Rahilly.
R.I.P.' writ in blood.
How goes the weather.?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Rose Tree
'O WORDS are lightly spoken,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows
Across the bitter sea.'
'It needs to be but watered,'
James Connolly replied,
'To make the green come out again
And spread on every side,
And shake the blossom from the bud
To be the garden's pride.'
'But where can we draw water,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'When all the wells are parched away?
O plain as plain can be
There's nothing but our own red blood
Can make a right Rose Tree.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Gotta Weather The Storm
Friend fell into alcoholic maze
the kind who never ceases to amaze
leaving me with only words to say
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Here's clue, he's got woman trouble
guess easy to say he's seen double
so I'm gonna lay it down again
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Working hard all this year long
he can't tell right from wrong
so I'll ring it from day one
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Swore aloud how he's thinking suicide
thinking aloud bout rising river tide
so I'll sing it from day two anew
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Booze has turned his head around
think he's suicidal devil road bound
so I'll play it from day three
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
So I'm laying truth down the line
listen to these blues yours and mine
listen catch hold my repeated lines
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Think it's worth sown in your mind
making black white stop you been blind
so I'll ring sing the twelve bar blues
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.
Repeat sometimes man you, gotta weather the storm.
poem by Wayne Falconer
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Good Weather
This good weather ruined me,
I resigned in such a weather
From my government job.
I got used to tobacco in such a weather,
I fell in love in such a weather;
I forgot to take home bread and salt
In such a weather;
My disease of writing poems
Recurred in such a weather;
This good weather ruined me.
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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El Nino The Thirsty One
Some weather experts told us el nino is dead
That we would have his rainy sister la nina instead
Of him but now the word is more dry and warm weather ahead
The drought to continue despite what we've heard and read
Old thirsty el nino is alive and well
For many he does make life an earthly hell
Because of him many farmers have committed suicide
Their hopes and their dreams by him have been destroyed
El nino is living despite what some weather experts do say
He is a survivor he will not go away
He sucks the dams and waterways dry and every dropp of moisture from the ground
Where drought is prevalent he is to be found
El nino the thirsty one is with us to stay
Despite what some of the experts on weather do say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It's Raining In Wonthaggi
On the gum tree in the garden white backed magpie flutes his song
But it's raining in Wonthaggi and the wind is blowing strong
Two days back it was so balmy around twenty five degrees
It was perfect Summer weather with the faintest cooling breeze.
In south Gippsland's changing weather it can change from day to day
And the old timers who live here say it's always been this way
And when it's raining in Wonthaggi there's a strong wind from the sea
And on such inclememt weather indoors is the place to be.
And the magpie he keeps singing I can see him through the pane
And for some strange sort of reason he seems happy in the rain
Though birds sing their best and sweetest on their breeding days in Spring
On wet and changing weather you can also hear them sing.
It is windy in Wonthaggi and the rain is pouring down
And storm water drains are flooded all around the country Town
But the magpie seems quite happy he feels moved to melody
And he celebrate the downpour on high branch of old gum tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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From Early To Mid Spring
The weather changeable from early to mid Spring
But so nice to hear the nesting songbirds sing
In the town park in the gray dawn of the day
Song in their breeding season to defend territory a huge part seems to play
Yesterday we had some heavy showers of rain
But today the sun shines in the sky again
The cooler weather of the Winter all but gone
And the days will become warmer as the Spring goes on
The parks and paddocks looking lush and green
And Nature at her very finest seen
In early Spring the white backed magpie he pipes day and night
And the blackbird can be heard at dawn's first light
And magpie larks build their cup shaped nest on branch of tree
And all day long sing out pee wee pee wee.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sing
Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things not bad
Sing of happy not sad
(*) sing, sing a song
Make it simple to last
Your whole life long
Dont worry that its not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song
La la la la la
La la la la la la...
Sing, sing a song
Let the world sing along
Sing of love there could be
Sing for you and for me
Repeat (*)
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush Singing In The Rain
The grey thrush sing on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October evening made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again.
And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the grey thrush pipes his notes of joy.
I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry?
Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family?
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'.
And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day?
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to my ears.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Process in the Weather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Something About The Weather
Dear sister, you have no idea
About the weather here
The earth is dry
We haven't seen any rain
For the past few years
And hunger is striking.
Looking out through the window
Father is trying to forecast the weather
And he has been saying something
But no one heard what the exact words are
For he's talking to no one, but himself.
Oh! how terrible things are here
The weather is bad, so bad that
I am beginning to believe what father has said.
'This is not weather, but a curse laid upon us.'
23/03/2004
poem by Arsiema Berhane
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Let me talk!
Wheather i type about my life or my dreams.
i am getting somewhere
Weather you look me up or not.
I am who i am, please don't change me
Weather i type about my hardships, don't forget me.
or or weather i close my eyes and open them
and i am still here.
My body's not, i went to heaven.
Weather this don't make sense it made sense to me
Because i am the one who's living to write.
poem by Sheniqua Lowery
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Weather Prediction
We are like the weather,
when too much emotion accumulates
we cry and tears rain down.
When we are happy all the clouds fade away except for a small few, and as the sun rises everything is covered with light dew. Then we shine like the Sun with no shame and barely even remember the sad rain.
When we are angry a storm comes to brew,
but soon passes and the day is a new.
We get bored, dance or sing and all around us things start to change. Soon the dull grey is bright once again.
We are the weather of our own day, but about weather you should know
is that it always changes,
like rain to snow.
poem by Kira Nowick
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush
The grey shrike thrush on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October eve made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again
And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the gray thrush pipes his notes of joy.
I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry? .
Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'? .
And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to the ear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It's really great to see you around!
When jolly birds fly in the air
and breeze plays with wanton hair
when dreams meet with eyes' glare
and every place has an air of fair
in my mind you can be found
my eyes want to see you around.
when eve approaches by and by
when stars intend to shine on the sky
when carefree aanchals freely enjoy
on wings of air i don't know why?
i feel myself severely bound
in this wish to see you around.
when the moon shines and looks kind
and sweeps away the worries from the mind
when it encounters the blows of wind
trees look smiling because they find
the beauteous weather all around
and then i want to see you around.
it may be fine or may be bad
whether birds sing or sit so sad
everyone feels grim or glad
whether fun of weather makes one mad
it's always great to see you around
it's really great to see you around
poem by Shahzia Batool
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Confused Atmosphere
Mother Nature may be confused, just like those, who have used,
This demeaning title to describe, the very God they have denied,
The Lord God, Who orders all, weather patterns, great and small,
He may never enter their minds, while stirring weather of all kinds.
Confused He isn't or will not be, for He is The Lord of all Eternity,
He is God of Order, up above; controlling weather men speak of,
And they truly don't understand, He controls the weather at hand,
Confusing only meteorologists, who dream Mother Nature exists.
They forecast the weather to come, not aware of where it is from,
Knowing not who is really behind, the weather they bring to mind,
Being shaken and very surprised, when it's not as they surmised,
But taking credit from their peers, for saying good weather nears.
Often times, you may even note, as weather is good some gloat,
About the returning of the sun, as if, it's something they've done,
Even though they may shy away, as bad weather comes our way,
Almost with a real reverence to, The Lord, to whom it is truly due.
For He is The Creator of this earth, Ruler over the whole universe,
He has, and always will control, all weather patterns, big or small,
With change meteorologists see, that fools the latest technology,
And it's those who have refused, God's Truth, who are confused.
Grey Skies In July
We are now well in to the month of July,
But above my head, there's a leaden sky.
For days on end, it has constantly rained,
And I must say that it's a right old pain.
Every time that I step out of my door,
The Heavens open and it begins to pour.
This awful weather is getting me down:
My once sunny smile has turned to a frown.
When it rains, it rains nearly all the day long;
For the middle of summer, it feels so wrong.
In July, we should be getting long days of sun,
But, so far, this month, we've had hardly none.
I hate these days which are dreary and dull;
With this wet weather, there is hardly a lull.
It was on the radio, that I heard one morning,
Half of Britain had severe weather warnings.
Around the sodden streets, everyone rushes.
Packed to full capacity, are our local buses.
I dare not leave home without my coat.
Very soon, I'll be needing to buy a boat!
Like many others, I don't mind confessing,
That I find this weather pretty depressing.
I want this weather to be over and done:
Rain every single day, is certainly no fun.
They say that sunny weather is on its way,
And I'm really looking forward to that day.
Let us all hope that, for the rest of July,
We'll see some sun and bright blue skies.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Tomorrow Robins Will Sing
Now every ting is lovely
So dont put yu trust inna false prophecy
Dis a de edley shine & stevie
You might wonder
Stand firm to all those who feel concern
Ca when you cant see the light
You must see the robins in flight
Life is just a matter of time or space
So all those who have to face sorrow
Shall only have to wait till tomorrow
Big tings a guan dis year
So mek we drop inna gear
Come cross missa stevie wonder
Watch it!
Now where do I start to make the point that Ill be making
To most efficiently use your time that Ill be taking
With the clear understanding that every ticking second is precious to us all
But if you let me bend your ear and listen up you will hear
Not just what I say, but every word that I am saying
You wake in the morning from a dream with spirits dope hype
Though you real life condition is far from being alright
Your love has wronged you, your moneys gone, youve lost your home and everything you own
But before you do something major extreme
Ive got one simple thing for you to take along with you, as you go on your lonely way
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies
So dry those tears from your eyes, cause tomorrow blue jays will fly
You borrow a dime to call up a friend that you could rely on
They put the phone down, you hear in the background tell him Im not home
Your face is broken, your throat is chokin, you hang up the phone in disbelief
And to make matters worse
You can remember you were the first and only one to come to him when lonely was his everyday
But if what you did came from your heart and not expecting
Then you should not waste one heart beat on any regretting
The sayings older than old yet true for today as when it was made to be told
As you saw so shall you reap
And if youve treated life sweet
Your blessings been ordained and already on its way
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies
So dry those tears from your eyes, cause tomorrow blue jays will fly
Today is the tomorrow you were so worried about
Looking over your yesterday
The clouds are gone and the sun is out
And everything has worked out irie okay
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies
So dry those tears from your eyes, cause tomorrow blue jays will fly
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing.
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Braving The British Weather
To brave the British weather, most birds don't have a choice,
But even in the worst weather, they raise such a spirited voice.
Cold and rainy weather can leave some of us feeling a little blue,
But, to me, it seems the little birds hold a different kind of view.
When, to us, the weather seems to go so very, horribly wrong,
The little birds continue to sing their sweet and happy song.
When a cloudless, blue sky still seems so very far from sight,
There is one song which will always ring out, so clear and bright.
When you find yourself walking along, upon rain-soaked ground,
From up in the trees, there will always come a heart-lifting sound.
A dull and dismal day can sometimes make us feel a little bit down:
Our hearts feel a little heavy, and our faces wear an unhappy frown.
Birdsong is a beautiful and pure, but powerful, Heaven-sent gift:
Upon hearing such a pleasant song, our hearts will begin to lift.
Even in wet weather, the little birds sing out with such pure joy:
Like the joy a child has, when hugging their favourite soft toy.
Even when we get wet through, our clothes will very soon dry,
So we should try to keep our chin up, and our spirits flying high.
Such joy is contained within the heart of a creature, so very small:
These tiny little birds really do set a shining example to us all.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Sleigh Ride
Just hear those sleigh bells jingling
Ring-ting-tingling too
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Outside the snow is falling
And friends are calling yoo-hoo
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Our cheeks are nice and rosy
And comfy cozy are we
Were snuggling close together
Like two birds of a feather should be
Lets take the road before us
And sing a chorus or two
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Theres a birthday party
At the house of farmer gray
Itll be the perfect ending
To the perfect day
Well be singing the songs
We love to sing
Without a single stop
At the fireplace where
Well watch the chestnuts pop
Theres a happy feeling
Nothing in the world can buy
When they pass around the coffee
And the pumpkin pie
Itll nearly be like a picture print
By currier and ives
These wonderful things are the things
We remember all through our lives
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Cold For May
it's cold for May and weather most severe
And swallow yet to return home this year
And still no trace or sound of bird cuckoo
And to hear him now would be like dream come true.
And trees and hedgerows not yet in full leaf
And Winter rob Spring like cruel hearted thief
And rain since morn and wind blow all day long
And lonely robin pipes a lonely song.
And worried farmer under cloud of woe,
His livestock hunger and the grass don't grow
And from fodder purchase last year's profits gone
And times are hard and hard to carry on.
I think of balmy days and Springs gone by
When sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky
And blissful skylark all day on the wing
At heaven's gate to angels songs did sing.
What's happened with the weather anyway?
Seems more like January than the month of May
And wintery conditions still prevail
And few birds sing now in the windswept vale.
But feelings of hopelessness and despair
Don't ever seem to get one anywhere
And in god's good time the weather will come fine
And grass will grow and the sun will brightly shine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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