Moaning about the Weather
The sky above is grim and grey;
They say that snow is on its way
But first, the frost will kill the flowers
And rain will pour for hours and hours
Just when we have to walk the dog.
Then planes get grounded by the fog
And after that come wind and gales
And hail and sleet on hills and dales.
The British weather, we complain,
So changeable, is such a pain.
We long for sultry summer sun
But then, again, there's not much fun
When there's too much and we get drought
That's something to complain about
And sunburn, sunstroke, water rations
Start to be the latest fashion.
I wonder if we Brits will ever
Cease to whinge about the weather
But it would really spoil the game
If every day were just the same;
We wouldn't have a chance to moan
And grouse and grumble, gripe and groan.
It's almost like our National sport
To curse the weather; there's a thought!
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Related quotes
February Weather
February sulks its shadow
Over moorland, marsh and meadow.
Dreary drizzle unabating,
Then there's weather worse awaiting:
Fog and frost and soft snow drifted
Deep in heaps that can't be shifted,
Rain that pours for hours and hours
Putting paid to plants and flowers,
Howling wind and gusting gale,
Slushy sleet and hammering hail.
Hopefully this woeful weather
Has to pass, not last for ever.
On a brighter note, a thought:
Just be thankful February's short.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Winter Song
Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
Will the Summer come again?
Rain on houses, on the street,
Wetting all the people's feet,
Though they run with might and main.
Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow.
Will the Winter never go?
What do beggar children do
With no fire to cuddle to,
P'raps with nowhere warm to go?
Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow.
Hail and ice, and ice and hail,
Water frozen in the pail.
See the robins, brown and red,
They are waiting to be fed.
Poor dears, battling in the gale!
Hail and ice, and ice and hail.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Wet Weather Talk
It ain't no use to grumble and complain;
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice:
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain,
W'y, rain's my choice.
Men giner'ly, to all intents--
Although they're ap' to grumble some--
Puts most their trust in Providence,
And takes things as they come;--
That is, the commonality
Of men that's lived as long as me,
Has watched the world enough to learn
They're not the boss of the concern.
With _some_, of course, it's different--
I've seed _young_ men that knowed it all,
And didn't like the way things went
On this terrestial ball!
But, all the same, the rain some way
Rained jest as hard on picnic-day;
Er when they railly wanted it,
It maybe wouldn't rain a bit!
In this existence, dry and wet
Will overtake the best of men--
Some little skift o' clouds'll shet
The sun off now and then;
But maybe, while you're wondern' who
You've fool-like lent your umbrell' to,
And _want_ it--out'll pop the sun,
And you'll be glad you ain't got none!
It aggervates the farmers, too--
They's too much wet, er too much sun,
Er work, er waiting round to do
Before the plowin''s done;
And maybe, like as not, the wheat,
Jest as it's lookin' hard to beat,
Will ketch the storm--and jest about
The time the corn 's a-jintin' out!
These here cy-clones a-foolin' round--
And back'ard crops--and wind and rain,
And yit the corn that's wallered down
May elbow up again!
They ain't no sense, as I kin see,
In mortals, sich as you and me,
A-faultin' Nature's wise intents,
And lockin' horns with Providence!
It ain't no use to grumble and complain;
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice:
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain,
W'y, rain's my choice.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Heavy Rain
Fields everywhere, now are completely sodden.
No more can their surfaces be safely trodden.
The grass in the fields was all turning brown,
But now, I fear that the fields could drown.
This year, it looked like we were facing a drought,
But now, I can’t believe how much rain is about.
It rains all day long, without even a pause.
Only by the plants, is all this rain is adored.
On the roads, there are massive puddles.
In the fields, under trees, the cattle huddle.
I know we all said we wanted the rain,
But now, it’s becoming a bit of a pain.
There are grey skies constantly overhead,
And I’m not that tempted to leave my bed.
The water in the fields will take ages to go,
And, now many of the vegetables won’t grow.
In this weather, you're constantly soaking wet,
And, by many a gloomy face, are you often met.
At any moment, I fear there’ll be a thunder storm.
This weather makes me feel very far from warm.
Every day, there is more heavy downfalls forecast,
How much longer can this dreadful weather last?
Even the weather forecaster gives a sympathetic look.
This weather is really pretty bad, even by his book.
In the towns, the High Streets are somewhat deserted.
On some roads, floods cause the traffic to be diverted.
Leaves and general rubbish clutter up the drains,
So that, on the road surfaces, the water will remain.
It’s summertime, and the weather is supposed to be hot,
But we’ve had all this rain lately, so obviously it’s not.
People everywhere are cancelling their summer barbeques;
Informing all their guests of the rather disappointing news.
There was a time when summer was hot and winter was cold,
But, into one, the seasons now seemed to have been rolled.
The whole nation over, organisers are cancelling events,
While fed up campers are speedily packing up their tents.
What the weather would be like, you once were able to guess,
But it’s all turned topsy-turvy and is now a real bloomin’ mess.
In an ideal world, during the day, the sun could shine nice and bright,
Then the rain could fall for hours on end, as long as it was only at night.
A healthy mixture of sun and rain is what we really need;
Both of which are needed to germinate newly sown seeds.
I really do wish that this constant rain would just go away;
Allowing us to carry out activities, we’d planned for the day.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Weather Love Poem
weather love poem
life with out you would be life the world without.rain.
dryed up and plain
it would be like.snow.
water with out flow
.sleet. falling on top of me
no sheet to cover me
my tale
could only be seen in a storm of.hail.
weather love poem
(more will be added........)
poem by Pilar Guethon
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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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No Let Up In Sight
Everyone, has complaints about the
hot and humid weather, there seems
to be no let up, in sight. If by chance
you have air conditioning, you'll have
no problems, sleeping at night. When
your sleep is interrupted, you get up
feeling more tired, than you were the
night before. You have no pep or vigor
and you know, what kind of day, is
waiting in store. Very hot weather, has
a tendency to make tempers flare. You
can't let it take a hold on you, just do
your best to take it from there. All to
soon, the cold weather will be on it's
way and we'll find another reason, to
complain. So even though it's hot,
believe it or not, I'd rather have it this
way, than have a tremendous amount,
of rain!
poem by Audrey Heller
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The Doves
The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay.
Moan of the cushat dove,
In silence rich and deep;
The old head I love
Nods to its quiet sleep.
Where once were nine and ten
Now two keep house together;
The doves moan and complain
All day in the still weather.
What wind, bitter and great,
Has swept the country's face,
Altered, made desolate
The heart-remembered place ?
What wind, bitter and wild,
Has swept the towering trees
Beneath whose shade a child
Long since gathered heartease ?
Under the golden eaves
The house is still and sad,
As though it grieves and grieves
For many a lass and lad.
The cushat doves complain
All day in the still weather;
Where once were nine or ten
But two keep house together.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Weather's Wet!
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
I wish I could just stay in bed,
But I must go to work today,
I'm safe beneath the warm duvet,
Not thinking ‘bout the day ahead,
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
If only I could stay away,
I'd rather be at home instead,
But I must go to work today,
"Get up, get out, and earn your pay! "
A little voice screams in my head.
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
A normal British summer's day,
With forecasts of more rain ahead,
But I must go to work today,
I wish there were another way,
In which to earn my daily bread,
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
But I must go to work today.
poem by Graeme Williams
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It is no use to grumble and complain; It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain - Why, rain's my choice.
quote by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alas, So Long!
AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
For skies and trees were ever in song
And water in singing flow
In the days we never again shall know.
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, I've been old so long,
It seems that age is loth to part,
Though days and years have never a song,
And oh! have they still the art
That warmed the pulses of heart to heart?
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, you've been dead so long,—
How long until we meet again,
Where hours may never lose their song
Nor flowers forget the rain
In glad noonlight that never shall wane?
Alas, so long!
Ah! shall it be then Spring weather,
And ah! shall we be young together?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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South Gippsland In April
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
Yet in the Parks and gardens of Wonthaggi Town
The mynas are singing their songs tell of rain
And the frogs they are calling in the roadside drain.
Though into mid April and the Winter quite near
The weather quite warm for the time of year
On the beach at Cape Paterson the sun lovers lay
It may rain tomorrow but the sun shines today.
Only six weeks left of Autumn the time ticking on
And quite Summery weather though Summer is long gone
The old coastal hills overlooking the sea shore
Have seldom looked this dry or this brown before.
South Gippsland in April a fresh coastal breeze
In the woodland is soughing in the sunlit trees
Utopia on Earth the South Gippslanders say
That from where they live Heaven is not far away.
The birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
It is more like weather in Summer or late Spring
The sun shining brightly but those brown hills nearby
A few hours of rain now would surely enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Long Drought Is Over
The long drought is over some weather experts believe
But weather patterns the experts have been known to deceive
In parts of the Country huge flooding the weather seems strange
But then we are in the age of climate change
The ferocity of Nature cannot be denied
In flooding tragedies up country seven people have died
Their cars by the flood were swept off of the roadway
Their deaths by drowning the big news story of the day
For to combat extreme weather patterns we need more than God on our side
Nowadays Natural disasters are occuring Worldwide
In drought ravaged Lands millions of refugees
And thousands are dying of hunger and disease
The long drought is over some weather experts do say
But the moods of Nature changing every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Four Seasons In One Day
Yesterday it was twenty degrees or so
And this morning it feels cold enough to snow
But Melbourne weather known to be that way
The place you get four Seasons in one day.
In mid morning a heavy shower of rain
And then the warming sun shine out again
And later on the wind blow to a gale
Accompanied by heavy showers of hail.
And quick as the hail storm came it then subside
This Melbourne weather like Jekyll and Hyde
The morning fine could make a sunny day
But will it rain? how can one ever say.
In Melbourne in the early days of Spring
As weather goes you expect anything
The morning fine but take your hat and coat
As four seasons in one day it has been wrote.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dark Is The Night
I'll never let you see
The way my broken heart is hurting me
I've got my pride and I know how to hide
All the sorrow and pain
I'll do my stormy in the rain
If I wait for cloudy skies
You won't know the rain
from the tears in my eyes
You'll never know that I still love you
So though the heartaches remain
I'll do my crying in the rain
Raindrops falling from heaven
Could never take away my misery
But since we're not together
I'll wait for stormy weather
To hide these tears I hope you'll never see
Someday when my crying's done
I'm gonna wear a smile and walk in the sun
I may be a fool
But till then, darling,
you'll never see me complain
I'll do my crying in the rain
(solo)
But since we're not together
I'll brave the stormy weather
To hide these tears I hope you'll never see
Someday when my crying's done
I'm gonna wear a smile and walk in the sun
I may be a fool
But till then, darling,
you'll never see me complain
I'll do my crying in the rain
I'll do my crying in the rain
I'll do my crying in the rain
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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My Hurricane Panic Attacks
The Weather Panic Attacks
Watching every weather station, reading every report
Stomach twisting in knots, knowing my home is to be my fort
Over whelming fear of doom, of this hurricane that's headed this way
Will this be the one, with wall of water that buries all that stay
I can't seem to breath and heart racing, can't calm down, so afraid
Brings me back to early childhood, to where some times I played
Brings back memories of abuse and being held under the dark water
Where I was held off a pier, being pulled under like a lamb to slaughter
I tell myself this will be okay, but deep down I guess I can't reason
I'm so terrified, because they say this will be a bad hurricane season
People don't want to hear the weather report any more from me
They can't feel the terror of what I feel and they can't see
Will I forever be doomed with this curse on my life, the fear and pain
Can the panic attacks begin to go and treat the weather like rain
The storm has pasted, the weather center I must start watching again
To start watching for tropical Caribbean weather all over again!
By Dogs4donna
© 2008 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)
poem by Donna Nimmo
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The Weather Man
Winter, spring, summer or fall
It’s the Weather Man’s call.
Common complaints:
“This weather is so depressing”
“I’m sick of all of this rain”
“It’s so gloomy outside today”
Consider God’s conversation with Job:
Did you lay the foundation of the earth?
Have you ever commanded the morning
And caused the dawn to take its place?
Have you ever entered the storehouse of snow,
Or seen the storehouses of the hail?
Can you lead a constellation in its season?
Do you know the ordinance of the stars?
Can you speak to the clouds, and can you send forth lightning?
You, the fault finder, can you contend with God?
Do you condemn God, so that you may be justified?
Winter, spring, summer or fall
It is The Weather Man’s call!
poem by Mary Carter
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My Umbrella
With the gray clouds
Forming, I grab my umbrella
I have no idea
About how bad it will be
If it will be drizzing
Or if it will be pouring
Whatever the case maybe
I have my umbrella with me
Rain, sleet, snow, or shine
I know that I will be fine
That's how I feel
About our Lord
He's my umbrella
He is right above my head
He protects me
During anytime
Or kind of weather
So even if I get
A little wet
I know God will protect
He will handle it
For He's always with me
No matter how stormy
The weather
God will always make it
Better
Because we walk together
poem by Tameeka Smith
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