Ode To The Old
As a premature spring rain is born to an early March wind, a heavy heart carries unfulfilled dreams within my soul.
Rain falls steadily never to cease or console, as if only to circumvent my actions for a short while, contorting and adding more difficulty as the March wind howls and blows.
The mind wanders and reaches for a tiny fragment of youth as wrought iron rusts and a March wind swirls paying tribute to the Ode to the old.
Nearby trees yield to and fro, struggling to stand tall as the unforgiving wrath carries on.
Once supple hands are now crippled by an unforgiving touch of an ode to the old.
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Weight of the Wind
The wind carries much more than we see
It carries a lot of what makes you and me
The wind blows and carries lies
Around the world it carries cries
We don't hear nor see any of these things
We don't know or feel what the wind brings
The wind carries the wishes and dreams
The wind carries promises down streams
On it lays our secrets we hold inside
Also the love for others we try to hide
It carries so much oh how I wish to know
With all that weight how can the wind blow?
poem by Mathew Welch

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The Rain of March
The Fitful Showers of March
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.
For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.
poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee

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The Rain Is Like A Man
the rain this early morning
has an accompanying wind
i look at them by the window
my inner world divided by a thick glass
the trees are swaying and some leaves
begin to fall like some kind of a dance
the rain like a man carries the wind
on his arms and the wind leans down
i catch a glimpse of how they passionately kiss
it is sad and lonely and then the rain stops
the morning sun comes and the leaves
are at the feet of the trees kind of wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Tei ('Demirifa due')
'Demirifa due'
Your died on the 3rd of March 2002;
And was buried on the 16th of March 2002,
But what is the independence of man when death calls? !
Tei, 'demirifa due';
You were with me on Friday the 1st of March 2002,
Then on Sunday the 3rd of March 2002 i heard of your death;
For death took you away from me like a candle in the wind.
Of the Red Sea and the Black Sea,
Of the Blue Sea and theWhite Sea,
But the wind blew you away so soon into the world unknown;
Young and fresh and never married,
And of the tears of many who came to see your dead body.
I was short of wards when i heard the news,
Because we had an appointment to go out together on the 4th of March;
And being an artist like myself,
We planned to visit the ART CENTRE (in Accra-Ghana) to sell some works.
Tei, 'demirifa due';
You were knocked and run down by a tipper truck with double axles!
And death knocked at your door so early and you were gone too soon.
Wailing and gnashing of teeth,
Your candle died out so soon in the wind;
And this sad note will be remembered always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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You Don't Care, You Can't Care
It's dark, dank and dreary
The Wind is cold and uncomforting
But I am just another Raindrop
That lands on your Leaves,
You stand rooted to the ground
Not even the Wind moves you
And the Rain touches you.
As I land on your Leaf,
Trying to retain, to remain there
Just for a second, to be a part of you;
The Wind blows me away 'whoosh'
And I am gone.
But you don't look back,
The Roots tell you 'no' as the
Wind continues to blow...
Lying on the ground, looking
Back up at what could have been
You stand there, alone, the
Wind howling, the Rain falling,
And you don't care,
You can't care. Is it the
Wind or the Rain? Or are you just too vain?
Strangely, stupidly, sadly; I
Give you another chance, I try
To talk to you, but you let the
Wind shake your Leaves, the
Rain fall on you, you watch
those Raindrops slide off you
Each and every one falls to the earth
You don't care, You can't care.
poem by E.D. French

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The Song of the Wind
Have you heard the wind blow
Through the leaves of tress
That sway and bend
In reverence to the wind?
Have you heard the lonely song
Of the wind
As it searches the world
Looking for its love?
Oh, the song of the wind,
A melancholy dirge,
Singing in time
To the funeral march
Of a forgotten soul
And the song of the wind
Howls mournfully...
The song of a heart that is breaking
And can no longer live
Without his love.
poem by Thomas Noel Smith

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When That I Was & A Little Tiny Boy
When that I was and a little tiny boy
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
A foolish thing was but a toy
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came to mans estate
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came alas to wife
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
By swaggering I could never fright
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came unto my bed
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
With tosspots still a drunken head
For the rain it raineth
Every day
A great while ago the world began
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
But thats all one our play is done
And well strive to please you
Every day
song performed by by Elvis Costello

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody knows.
No one can tell me
Nobody knows
Where the wind comes from
Or where the wind goes
No one can tell me
Nobody knows
Where the wind carries
The white winter snows
No one can tell me
Nobody knows
What the wind whispers
To black feathered crows
No one can tell me
Nobody knows
Where the wind comes from
Or where the wind blows.
poem by J.A McManus

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Just March(ing) Along..
When Winter begins
to lose His touch
and his buddy Jack Frost
don't hang 'roun as much..
The days will be one day
all sunny and warm
then by morning wake up
to a winter snow storm
March isn't winter
spring, summer or fall.
March seems to be marching
into changing it all.....
March is a beginning.
March is a end.
Winters defeater (the spring time leader)
March is marching spring in...
poem by Connetta Jean

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The Whispering Wind
like the whispering wind you sent to me
like the hopeless time you gave to me
i watched your dreams all slip away
i watched your dreams all slip away
there's a hopeless place inside my heart
when i look inside i see where we are
like the whispering wind in the top of the trees
i will watch the sky come following me
like the rain on my windows late every night
like the hope i have for us every time
it's like the whispering wind in the top of the trees
i see it sway as you come for me
there's a whispering wind i feel it inside
like a place i can feel but never will see
let a whisper come touch you come touch every thing
i stand in the way of the things i can be
let the whispering wind come lift us away
let it push us apart if we wish to stay
you're my sweetness my baby my love for all time
like the whispering wind it makes you all mine
like the whispering wind you stand here with me
like the whispering wind you stand here with me
i see your dreams all slip away
slip away
slip away
slip away
song performed by by Moby

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White

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Sunset in March
The Spring has come to us again,
flowers are dancing in the rain,
the morning sky returns to blue,
sunset in March, a magic view.
A crocus bloom, blue pearl of Spring
smiles as the robins sing and sing,
watching the skies, I'm singing too,
sunset in March, a magic view.
The lake is waiting for old boats,
a sound of hope so freely floats,
the music that our souls pursue,
sunset in March, a magic view.
There is no time like Spring, indeed,
a heart renewed for worlds in need,
may all our wishes dreams come true,
sunset in March, a magic view.
poem by Marius Alexandru (March 2022)

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Lost Spring
I was born, once, in a spring,
When the mountains bloomed,
And the snows melted;
That very spring in March.
The skies filled with the song of birds,
The air with the fragrance of flowers,
The water shone like diamonds;
That very spring in March.
Oh I wish, I wish, to go back,
Once more to my childhood,
To that lost paradise;
That very spring in March.
poem by Alina Luiz

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My Little March Girl
Come to the pane, draw the curtain apart,
There she is passing, the girl of my heart;
See where she walks like a queen in the street,
Weather-defying, calm, placid and sweet.
Tripping along with impetuous grace,
Joy of her life beaming out of her face,
Tresses all truant-like, curl upon curl,
Wind-blown and rosy, my little March girl.
Hint of the violet's delicate bloom,
Hint of the rose's pervading perfume!
How can the wind help from kissing her face,--
Wrapping her round in his stormy embrace?
But still serenely she laughs at his rout,
She is the victor who wins in the bout.
So may life's passions about her soul swirl,
Leaving it placid,--my little March girl.
What self-possession looks out of her eyes!
What are the wild winds, and what are the skies,
Frowning and glooming when, brimming with life,
Cometh the little maid ripe for the strife?
Ah! Wind, and bah! Wind, what might have you now?
What can you do with that innocent brow?
Blow, Wind, and grow, Wind, and eddy and swirl,
But bring her to me, Wind,--my little March girl.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar

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March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters

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What Is the Wind For?
What is the wind for?
If it's not for songs in trees;
What is the wind for?
I feel a song inside of me.
Every day the wind blows,
I think of thoughts from my heart.
Wind melodies come and they go,
Without me knowing where they start.
What is the wind for?
If not for songs like these.
What is the wind for?
If not for songs in trees.
I have been going through life,
Both with comfort and pain.
I have been going through life,
Both with effect and in vain.
But still I hear wind songs,
As they steadily grow;
With melodies chanting,
That no one really knows.
poem by Peter S. Quinn

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You March On
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
Look back, never, even by mistake
forget, never, the hardships you bore
guide, will be your past deeds of life,
full of pangs on the bed of stake
What holds destiny?
Not to worry?
............Just march on, march on, march on.
Adversities make you a fast learner
Desires are snakes, so be a shirker
search the deep sea to find a pearl
get to the shore, while facing the whirl
Think never to be feeble & meek
deliver everyone from the misdeeds
while truth you seek
clear all hurdles regaining your strength
you will reach the destination
march on...march on....march on.
Carve out your name on the horizon
as your stars are on the ascendant
work towards the goal night and day
be illuminated in such a way
sluggish should appear the milky way
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul

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Still women love men
Wind in spring blows;
Petals wither.
Wind in summer blows;
Fruits fall down.
Wind in autumn blows;
Leaves are shed.
Wind in winter blows;
Barks get cracks.
Still trees love wind.
Still women love men.
27.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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I Need Not More!
i was born
of the wind and rain,
conceived by storm,
nursed by its path.
i hear the flute
that time ignores.
i dance in the smallness
of the tiny bud.
i pray like thunder
to a god that growls.
i wait in the silence
of the aftermath.
filled with the joy of survival,
and the weeping
of the mortal lost!
i am alive!
i celebrate the living.
i console the dead
with remembered moments.
i am nothing,
neither claim nor grasp.
born of the wind and rain,
i need not more!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Face The Wind
Face the wind
Feel the pressure
It blows me away
It rushes past to God knows where
When I turn my self to stand in its path
Feel it Almost like
Radiant fingers Invigorating
Strokes energy through my flowing hair
Filling with joy my heart
Soul overflows with passion I feel
I hear nothing but the wind
It is everything in my ears
And when I finally speak
Words leave my mouth
And all leave presence
As wind captures them and
Steals them from the listening
To hoard them in its vast secret place
Far away beyond most imagination
Feel the wind
Speak into it your secrets
Taste, Smell its messages
Hear voices it carries
From animals and trees and
Storms and lovers
See it, watch its patterns
Where it comes from and goes to
Look at its journey, its traveling
But can’t
You can’t see it
But you can feel it
Somewhere it is deep
And its colours would be beautiful
Face the wind
Full-force you feel it and
It blows you away
Feel its soothing power
Breathe in life
Feel
Face the wind.
poem by Zoe MacRae

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