Songs Of The Sky
In a sky of layered clouds,
dawn becomes a rainbow,
moving through the spectrum
toward the day.
In a sky of always blue,
no clouds ride the wind:
the sun burns brightly,
high and hot and long.
In a sky of may grays,
clouds crash, explode and roar;
rain-filled winds sweep across the prairie.
In a sky of many blues,
clouds dance on the wind;
and endless and quixotic
Rohrschach test.
In a sky of always gray,
no clouds seem to move;
overcast blots out imagination.
In a sky of cold, cold blue,
gray clouds scrape the treetops;
harbingers of winter storms to come.
Beneath a sky of darkening gray,
the prairie grasses rustle
on the small, forgotten farms
of what could've been
and was.
In a sky of mottled gray,
cold rains fall, now and then;
the seasons struggle
for control of April.
In a sky of broken gray,
cold winds precede the rains;
and before long
the darkened clouds re-gather.
In a sky as clear as glass,
and blue from top to bottom,
sultry days of August
slowly drift into September.
In a twi-lit noon-time sky,
this annular eclipse
leaves us just a
ring around the moon.
In a sky of many clouds,
sunset's an inferno;
ablaze, in this,
my father's final twilight.
In a sky that slowly burns,
the clouds of fire fade
and leave a darker beauty
to hold the night.
poem by William Kruse
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Cloudy Night Sky
I sat last night on damp plowed ground.
Above the sky felt close around.
The clouds were broken by silver rays;
Each was a blue and gray curtain array.
All moved swiftly on their way.
The moon a silver sphere seemed very near,
When the clouds allowed it to appear.
The refreshing beauty of the sky was made,
In the marvelous broken patterns, hues, and shades,
of silver, blue, and gray.
Clouds Shall Pass
I see clouds
Whitish and feathery
Cotton white and feathery
Dark clouds, winds gather,
Winds howl, winds sweep the sky
Sun shines, coloured rainbow bows
little rain spatters, clouds,
Clouds shall clear, the sun winks.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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An August Morning At Upper Gully
The smoke from the chimneys curled down in the sky
And it's colder and wetter than 'twas in July
And fog o'er the forest a blanket of gray
And darkening rain clouds more showers on the way.
The currawongs calling the dark birds of rain
And into the station roars the city bound train
And cars on the highway racing to and fro
And down the high woodlands the chilly winds blow.
At 7 a.m. and the temperatures low
And it's cold in upper Gully cold enough to snow
Yet on this bleak morning great beauty i see
Bright yellow flowers blooming on the wattle tree.
Their loud cackling laughter one could not mistake
And they call through the morning just after daybreak
On the higher branches of old mountain gray
The kookaburras herald a cold Winter's day.
Three weeks left in August and Spring is so near
On this perhaps the coldest day of the year
And dark rain clouds gather in bleak morning sky
And it's colder and wetter than 'twas in July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It Really Never Was...
the day is getting darker
painting shadows on the wall
broken wings of blue skies
going for a moment
everything's now in the evening
with longings in the deep
and wishes still not happening
the winter
glasses with frosty roses
and perfect days in somberness
in the white weather
every thought
is now alone
reaching to the mountains
faraway
in silences of time
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
how do I not be alone
when times are like these
how do I not feel the blues
when the clouds surrounds me
with few landings
into summer thoughts
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
the winter
comes soft and sweet
with clean glisten thoughts
and snowflakes that never stop pouring...
when it gets cold outside
the winter
oh the winter
how fresh it can get
how cold it can get
it really never was...
full of romantic
it just has these surprises
in the weather
that can't hold back
the clouds that surrounds me
it really never was...
just the winter
it really never was...
just the winter
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Cruel Winds of Winter
Got up this morning, no sun in my eyes,
The house is so cold, no warmth to the fire,
My love is gone, he took all my desire,
And cruel winds of winter howled all night.
My love could warm me in the coldest time,
Bring the light of day to the darkest night,
As tears of my sorrow fall from my eyes,
The cruel winds of winter cry in delight.
Pull on my coat, keep the chill from my side,
I walk by the sea, the salt stings my eye,
The caps are all gray, like clouds in the sky,
And with those cruel winds of winter, I cry.
As tears of my sorrow fall to the sand,
My love is not here to warn my cold hand,
He’s gone like the sun from this harsh, gray land,
And only the wind seems to understand.
This endless winter has replaced his light,
My sweet love gone, no warmth in my sight,
I drift lost and lonely, no sleep I find,
Still those winds cry with me deep in the night.
My heart so heavy, life has no delight,
And the cruel winds of winter, torment my night.
poem by Teresa Dearing
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Scarlatti
last night
locked in
the castle
of pride and
egotism
goes on two
legs
Webern
orchestrated a
sky the clouds
move to a
bass
on
an instrument not
an oboe, gray
on light-gray in
blue and green
goes by
on glass
Schoenberg
serenades with
a view through
to where
a girl
swings
her
body displaced
against the
pull of her
hands head-
high on the
ropes
night
before the night
before last
unlocked the castle
of pride and
egotism
bliss
clouds stand
and go by
poem by James Marcus Schuyler
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September afternoon for M lady Ernestine.
September sun spasmodically
breaks through the clouds which threaten rain.
Sometimes the clouds triumphantly
block out the sunshine once again.
I watch and wait expectantly
to see the sun come smiling through
A little optimistically
I hope to see the sky turn blue.
The storm clouds try but can’t resist
a brisk wind blowing from the sea
They have no choice the wind persists
Although they move reluctantly.
The clouds are gone the sun shines on
and will do ‘til the day is done.
Wednesday,08 September 2010
http: // blog.myspace, com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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In the Morning
By SJR December 1,2008
The varying layers of clouds would not evade my attention.
Dark clouds, high clouds, fluffy clouds, wispy clouds –
The sky was a myriad of different formations.
Pervading through them all however,
was a diffuse gray form extending from earth to
Heaven and moving swiftly through the land –
It was amazing to watch!
And I could only reflect on the Spirit of God,
Moving swiftly across the earth,
Always present, filling all of space,
Not necessarily noticeable from within,
But ever active, moving with power and love.
'God is able to do immeasurably more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of, according to His power that is at work within us' Eph 4: 20
----
I will always remember you SJR!
0119
Your Cubic Slang
Enclose the closeness in your soul,
Enclose it as you enclose the ''uco'' in cornucopious.
Enclose the gray transparency in your sky,
When it is so close to your coming clouds.
They are the dimples of your cognitive space,
They are hollow thoughts,
When you set your ideals at naught.
Those clouds are inside of your gray
As close as the ''co'' in the cocoon,
Those clouds are fulfilled with your leady rain.
They are uncracked nuts waiting for a crack.
Let the rain of your Cumulonimbus storm
To fall over the lead of my pain.
Enclose inside of my lead
All your Oort clouds
Lost in your cubic slang.
MCN: CDDQ1-JVPR9-7NHF6
© copyright Fri Jan 20 UTC 2012 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Clouds And Moods
Puffs of clouds covered the sky
Like my thoughts of you and I.
At times I could see and think clearly
But my mind would get weary.
Those puffs of clouds would take control
And my heart it would hold.
It’s amazing how it could be
That the clouds are like you and me.
When the clouds get dark and grey
We become defensive in every way
And the fights come into play.
And when clouds are a misty white
I want to make love to you day and night.
And when the clouds look like ripples in the sand
I want to squeeze you and hold your hand.
And when the clouds completely cover the sky
I thank god you’re by my side.
poem by Louis Rams
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Clouds
The clouds as I see them, rising
urgently, roseate in the
mounting of somber power
surging in evening haste over
roofs and hermetic
grim walls—
Last night
As if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling, as if the last traces
of warmth were still fading in you.
My thigh burned in cold fear where
yours touched it.
But I forced to mind my vision of a sky
close and enclosed, unlike the space in which these clouds move—
a sky of gray mist it appeared—
and how looking intently at it we saw
its gray was not gray but a milky white
in which radiant traces of opal greens,
fiery blues, gleamed, faded, gleamed again,
and how only then, seeing the color in the gray,
a field sprang into sight, extending
between where we stood and the horizon,
a field of freshest deep spiring grass
starred with dandelions,
green and gold
gold and green alternating in closewoven
chords, madrigal field.
Is death’s chill that visited our bed
other than what it seemed, is it
a gray to be watched keenly?
Wiping my glasses and leaning westward,
clearing my mind of the day’s mist and leaning
into myself to see
the colors of truth
I watch the clouds as I see them
in pomp advancing, pursuing
the fallen sun.
poem by Denise Levertov
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From Blue to Blue You Choose
There are clouds above your storms...
Afraid to let Sun through.
Also empty wishes,
Have you feeling shades of blue.
On the dew...
At dawn.
There are clouds above your storms,
Only no one but you.
And...
That's the way it seems.
That's the way your dreams are too!
From blue to blue,
You choose!
Open up your windows.
Feel the breeze.
Let your heart breathe free.
There are clouds above your storms...
Afraid to let Sun through.
Also empty wishes,
Have you feeling shades of blue.
On the dew...
At dawn.
Clouds above your storms.
And they are there watching you.
Wanting to drift,
Away.
But you wish them to stay..
From blue to blue,
You choose.
The way your dreams are too!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Color Blind
Everyday seemed to be rainy,
I just woke up to see the gray clouds on my window,
the birds didn't illuminate my mornings with their beautiful melody anymore,
I couldn't see more colors than black gray and white.
One day I woke up after having a colorful dream,
I could see more than gray,
I realized I was a color blind before,
because I noticed that after that rain and clouds,
there has always been a rainbow for me,
so I was color blind not to notice that colorful rainbow before,
but, they say that you can't see a rainbow without rain
My rain was just a wall not to see that beautiful rainbow,
now it has dissappeared,
I'm not a color blind anymore,
Now standing in front of my window,
I can see a bautiful bird red and blue looking for flowers,
Flowers violet and pink standing on the ground,
the beautiful green of trees and plants,
and the splendid blue of my new sky,
one of them I can't name it,
is so unique so special,
I think I'll call it...
Love....
poem by Ana Lia Zaldivar
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Clouds Of My Life
There moves the cloud
with the wind that blows
So bright and white
like the pages of my life…
I sit near the window
and watch those clouds
That shows me the way
my life is being shaped…
Never was I able to
see the clouds
Have the same shape
in every minute of my life…
Why does this happen
is what I think
But everyday is not the same
is what it says to me…
I see the winds
blow off the clouds
Which makes me think
when will my life be blown off? ...
It's hard to see
black clouds coming in between
Making my worst fears
strike into my mind…
It rains day and night
making me feel happy and sad
Happy to see the black clouds fading
but sad about losing the clouds…
Dreams of mine takes
shape in the clouds
Always showing me the face
of the person I like…
It always reminds me
my life is in world's hands
No matter how hard I try
can't change the fate of my life…
It's nice to see the clouds
every morning I wake up
This reminds me there is still a day
because I see the "Clouds of my Life"…
poem by Sowkoor Nischal Shetty
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Anticipation
I sleep in the morn.
I do not wish to rise.
I hear the rain
and I know the skies
are crying big raindrops
and the clouds are gray.
The approaching hours
will begin my day.
Oh how I need to see the sun
come out from the clouds
to burn my skin
and heat up this frame of mind I'm in.
I can't stay put in this tiresome bed.
Too many thoughts will destroy my head.
All I need is one word from you,
then the rain and clouds could not get through.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Life's Seasons
When all the world was Mayday,
And all the skies were blue,
Young innocence made playday
Among the flowers and dew;
Then all of life was Mayday,
And clouds were none or few.
II
When all the world was Summer,
And morn shone overhead,
Love was the sweet newcomer
Who led youth forth to wed;
Then all of life was Summer,
And clouds were golden red.
III
When earth was all October,
And days were gray with mist,
On woodways, sad and sober,
Grave memory kept her tryst;
Then life was all October,
And clouds were twilight-kissed.
IV
Now all the world's December,
And night is all alarm,
Above the last dim ember
Grief bends to keep him warm;
Now all of life's December,
And clouds are driven storm.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Cloud and atmosphere
Clouds appear
In the atmosphere
Atmosphere remained
Uncontaminated by clouds
Clouds is not always present
In the atmosphere
Atmosphere exists
Even when there is no clouds.
There is no clouds
There is atmosphere
There is no atmosphere
There is no clouds
Clouds is atmosphere
Atmosphere is not clouds.
Atmosphere exists in its own beings
Clouds has no separate existence
You are my atmosphere
I'm your cloud
Pray
Make me always clear
And in good use.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Sunday swim
upon a blue sky
hangs the clouds
upon a blue sea
the floor is light gray
between this two
walls i
put myself
amidst the winds
blowing my hair
as i struggle
against the waves
away from shore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Teint Neutre
WIDE downs all gray, with gray of clouds roofed over,
Chill fields stripped naked of their gown of grain,
Small fields of rain-wet grass and close-grown clover,
Wet, wind-blown trees--and, over all, the rain.
Does memory lie? For Hope her missal closes
So far away the may and roses seem;
Ah! was there ever a garden red with roses?
Ah! were you ever mine save in a dream?
So long it is since Spring, the skylark waking
Heard her own praises in his perfect strain;
Low hang the clouds, the sad year's heart is breaking,
And mine, my heart--and, over all, the rain.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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When The Wind Met The Moon
It was a dark night
Clouds filled the sky.
The moon could not shine through the thickness of the clouds.
No matter how hard she tried,
She could not glimmer through.
The wind felt sorry for the moon.
He saw how hard the moon was trying
So the wind blew to move the clouds from in front of her.
Then the moon shared its magnificent beauty with the world.
poem by Torence Lavender
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