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Age Rain Poems | Age Poems About Rain

These Age Rain poems are examples of Age poems about Rain. These are the best examples of Age Rain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad |

Little Blue Bird of Rain

Little Blue Bird of rain.

Rain, rain go away
Little Blue Bird of Rain, needs to shine again
In her version the sun dried, up all her tears
Leaving hurtful rain inside the bird
Destructive past sudden cheers
Waking up to empty words
When abandoned by her peers
Just not knowing what had just occurred

Drowning herself in a life of Jane Doe.
Never know who she really is
When all she loves hanging her lowest moment
The rain brought out Mary-Jane.
As the bird lost its glow.
The rain tricked her once to use Cocaine.
As her feathers met that one Joe.
He broke her wing and brought more Rain.

Very young, very sweet.
Living her life in the fast lane.
Hard for her to stand on her feet.
Balanced her life on one leg, like the crane.
Curtains hang over her wings.
While she let no one near her domain.

While she flies through the heavy rain.
She finds her comfort with a pen.
Using the lords name in vain.
Cursing all her backstabbing friends
With no one around to explain?
All the sorrow left her on a railroad track.
Ending up like the runaway train.
Only she can get her life back.

If for myself I ever felt pain?
I felt more pain at what she wrote about. 
In my face on my left side 
Your poetry comes to life in my head. 
Visions of her wanting to be dead.
Oh! How I wish this life she did not dread.

You hide the tears you shed so well.
A life with balls you cut the chains.
You diss, Your parents to go to hell.
Little Blue Bird of Rain, don't let them fools drive you insane.

Little Blue Bird of Rain.
If a sparrow could show you,
There is more to life than pain.
Under the umbrella, the sparrow would cover you.
No one wants to see her colors drain.
What a world to master her feathers into art.
The gift of words runs through her vein

The paintings on her wall.
A dream of a bad seed of grain.
One day our Little Blue Bird will stand tall.
To free herself from all the Rain.

  To: Rain aka- Joy Loveless
Our sweet 16-year-old
      P.D.     1-1-10

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

Gone, Our Days Dancing In The Splashing Rain

Gone, Our Days Dancing In The Splashing Rain

As this our time retreats into faded thought
  and our nights of love become a pain
We can both see that with a dear price bought
  our days dancing in the splashing rain
Should we again find our way into love's realm
  tempest breaking the greatest storm apart
Ship on truest course with heart at the helm
  finding treasures not seen on any chart

When hope, our only saving grace fell very far
  did we regret the touch of our lips then
Or invite in the misery creating this deep scar
  thus viewing all our love passion as sin
What of the sorrow that chills us both so deep
  deadly words that slash with no remorse
Nay, the damnation and costs make us both weep
  each crying out for a much happier course

Has this time sealed our doom and failed pride
  a journey based upon mistakes and lies
Drowning as we fail to cross darkness so wide
  death under black waters with broken ties
Never reaching up for that romance saving hand
  content to lick and eat our own pride
Saddest traveler into desolation's blackest land
  moaning out regret as we enjoy the ride

Will our stubbornness give birth to great defeat
  a testament to anger's futile arrogance
A nasty meal we each still find begging to eat
  no victory in foolishly killing romance

Robert J. Lindley

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Tears Of Serious

            Tears Of Serious

Two rivers of silver approach you at a time by crying
Taking on water in rain as they serpentine by around black rocks
And other fears that gather up about their banks
One silver moving wall of water is shallow in its depths
Remains nameless all the same, once again, then evaporates
Hides, mourning on the shore and then it is no more
The other moving liquid body flows by, goes by Serious
It turns in pain, winds around the landscape meanderings
Serpentines, absorbing rain and young children to its depths
No one knows why the river runs so long so deep
But there are tears in it originating from old faces
Forming on old mountains as they trickle down, cascading
Tears of Serious are created from many deaths
Now in her depths   

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ottava rima |


A couple of Old Drips A summer storm approaches so we take shelter under my umbrella. Teeming rain soaks our clothes and a tiny lake forms under our rain boots. We start beaming and jump in puddles like children. You make me giggle as I see your eyes gleaming. Now in our eighties, we don’t really care what other folk think and if people stare! Summer Rain Storm Contest Sponsored by Dale Gregory Cozart

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

Raindrops and Teardrops

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2013

Details | Imagism |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |


Minutes pass like the slow falling grains in an hourglass. 
Days fade away like the clouds of spring showers in early May.
Time goes on though you may not hear the ticks.
With mysterious design
Time; one of nature’s best tricks. 
Some of us move forward,
Others stuck in the past.
Though we must be quick to make a move,
For this moment could be our last.
Seconds waste no time like the beating of my heart.
Hours can seem torturous.
Those who are impatient would rather be torn apart.
Your life may end when expected or suddenly,
But remember time doesn’t stop for you,
Neither will it for me.


Copyright © Andrea Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Clerihew |

Rain Delay

the rain delay
we best put everything away
we musn’t harp
the World According to Tarp.

Copyright © reay mackay | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |

Days of my youth

Those were the days of my youth
I was young and I was wild 
Days were young and I was new
When money became my pride

I was searching in all the places
To see what I was gonna be
Searching all around the world
Not knowing, the answer's within me

I was blind in my pride
Love made it hard to see
Didn't know?really money
Could be my enemy

Took me days and I grew old
Finally I found the truth
Love and money had ruined my days
The precious days of my youth

Copyright © anbes rawal | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

Grey Bird

On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential

Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Unnamed God's Of The Winds

            Unnamed God’s Of The Winds

Ethereal unseeing creatures drink up the feathery winds
Immortals, ancient gods, ride on the backs of clouds
Smoke them like cigarettes unfiltered 
Rise invisible to drink the sky and everything in it
Once rain fills them up they turn to fog
Another unnamed god
Filling up the bodies of the wind 
Fog clouds empty again as rain 
They come down just the same as puffs of smoke
Solid winds are stronger on the storm
Dragged down by water falls then drowned
You can feel them on the skin between the drops
Falling through the atmosphere

Created on 12/23/14 for -Shadow Hamilton’s -“Gods Of Winds” Poetry Contest

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |

Will you leave before my beauty and youth do

Come... we are wet clothes 
clung to bodies clung to storm
where the rain falls up.

Copyright © Brooks Lindberg | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Flat Canvas

Flat canvas;

Bubbling brown ridges strike 
The confining dimensions in a hostile yawn: 
Upwards, Outwards.

Walk the world no longer, an ending beckons, 
A precipice builds moments where swallows wager wings 
On new seed: New breeds.
Falling buys the assurance of seconds
From a sinking well. 
Oh well.

Remember us when the globe begins to slip,
Bang drums for our pity:
Our crescendos mean less than meaningless.
And then, when spheres crack, continue 
On the whorl of a thumb, 
Stretching hope to nothing.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Mud Impact - Haiku

     Mud Impact - Haiku

mud covers rock round 
smooth, dark facial, solid, wet
rains pure disclosure 

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

To the rain

My physical existence cannot comprehend you...
You come to me and what appear in my body are "goosebumps"..
My god...
Oh, the beloved..
You rain so heavily that my jaw starts to shiver..
but, mind it not, for I know, this is my faith and I am being nourised..

Copyright © Pushpa Palanchoke | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Foggy May

This foggy sky
darkly and relentlessly rains
especially for an early May morning.

He is not prepared for darkness
seeping in from new-born leaves,
not yet full grown into this year's tree-lacing dress,
soaking in from saturated soil,
slurping into his complexly leaking co-empathic soul.

Perhaps this open quality
endears him to those few who could ever know him
enough to watch him,
hoping for less rain inside today,
each day,
all Earth's Days.

Wet liturgical Mays 
dissolve his Taurean ways.

Yet, for him, right now,
such dark openness yawns too large
for even one dreary lonely hour
of self-isolation.

His two medically complex clients have gone,
as usual,
Monday morning until late afternoon.
As he contemplates his decadent ways
he misses their distracting charms.
Each so different.
YinYin so loudly Trumpian,
post-millennial triumphalist Yang DoubleBangian,
but also with some significant undiagnosed bipolar control issues.
Meanwhile Yang,
unable to speak or sign,
so hidden,
yin-shy shadow of rich warm love,
immersed in life's right-now ripe composting time,
each ElderBrain moment,
graciously emerging from his co-arising neural past
to spin toward future yang-yin equipoised memories
of time's polypathic karmic grace.

But, right now he must sustain thru dark raining dreams of suicide
without them.
He suffers withdrawal from feeling needed,
unworthy of becoming truly wanted.

a PermaCultural Family EcoTherapist,
actually achieving good muticultural outcomes
with his fractured clients,
sitting on his sagging butt in full-blowing Spring,
the one highly de-specialized professional wheelhouse
most needed to accelerate global networking
cooperative outcomes,
challenging each family and all climatic systems
with Yang-encultured dominance,
right here and now in this post-millennial generation
of ecologically balancing great and small,
daily transitions,
yet he feels hopeless,
not knowing where he could ever begin again
so late in this biological incarnation
already showing concerns that "Black Lives Matter"
but maybe not so much old black,
or white,
or even green lives matter
beyond their retiring biofunctional usefulness.

We all help make great compost when we die.
It's getting in there,
completing the job,
embracing the vocation,
once and for all,
that continues to challenge life as EgoDeath love.

How does one retiring PermaCultural Therapist
best contribute to this time,
this ecosystem,
this community,
this family,
this primal relationship with ecopolitical Earth
and all Her tribal dialects
and languages
and species
and multicultural diversities of life and death cycles
and recycles,
and repurposes
and transubstantiating regenerations?

Probably reading F Scott Fitzgerald's issues
about cultural decay
and ethical integrity of bodies and minds
ingesting and regurgitating Earth's generous beauty
is rather like sitting under a rain-drenched tarp,
writing stories of suicidal dissipation,
while Earth calls for Revolutionary EcoTherapists
to heal Her as she cries,
this early May morning,
under foggy dripping skies.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Crying in the rain

Been living like a train,
running on a drawn line.
Drinking too much wine,
to fight all the pain.

Tears fall like rain
Under despair's reign.
And I search for a sign,
that will show me all's fine.

I don't want to whine,
but I got no place to dine.
I'm too far across the line,
I cant even feel the pain.

Been down every lane,
there's nothing left to be seen.
I'm a lion without its mane,
just waiting to be slain.

Copyright © Jyothis Lal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

The Brolly Volley

Jousting and parrying the parasol defend the brolly                                                Etiquette has lost the brawl on the way to the trolley                                                      To raise it a little higher a common courtesy                                                             Today they are wielding them with no mercy                                                           Wetter now two men stuck in the door with their shields                                                    It is not the days of chivalry I’m glad they're not fighting for real                                       It’s like they are standing under a tree after the rain has quit                                             In the age of selfie’s they have forgotten some etiquette

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |

Tropical Rain Forest

Tropical rain forest gracious beauty grand and small
North of the equator from our scale it begins at our wests wall
Rising vapor flows a river twords the sunlights ever turning call
Mud pits splot, moisture hides here a lot, it warms as the lava flows

Vines whip as the air grows stale and sticks, happy is the Crow
The river rises and then again picks up speed for a circle and dips it's feet
The Harboring Crain decides to move. Leaving it's sticks furrow glued
It's working a global groove nothings ever new
No surprises the oldest extents of on going crises

Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


Droplets of water hit the roof so hard 
I could barely hear myself think
as it washed down dirt from the corrugated 
roofing sheets.

The smell of dust hung around like 
the scent of incense burning from the altar,
heat steamed from the sun burnt earth like water 
poured on hot coal.

From my window I could see empty 
polythene bags hovering in the air,
trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind 
and animals scampering for shelter.

I took-off my clothes and jumped into 
the rain reminiscent of my childhood when
Mother would let us dance in the rain 
and bathe us with warm water afterwards.

but now I'm a grown man and all I want
to do is dance in the rain.

Copyright © Ibukun Tosin | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |

:Cold Rain:

The clouds overhead smother me. 
Their heaviness, mirroring my thoughts,
And the grayness of their pain
Rains down cold memories,
Onto my soul like acid rain,
Eating away at my chance to
For once,
Be happy.

Copyright © Madelyn Nichols | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |



There they sat on their raised verandah,
looking out and up at the celestial canvas
nature had painted.  Puffed up

Puffed up peacock-like nimbus clouds
slowly strutted across the skies; and
in a chameleon like fashion, they changed
from white to a darken blue hue
that edged toward the borders of blackness.
Fascinated by this heavenly transformation,
sets of eyes mingled; and curious smiles
drew themselves across mysterious faces.

Suddenly, lightning flashed! Then they heard the thunder!
And without hesitation, the celestial pouring pitcher
poured down its waters---as if a great earthly thirst call 
had been sent up to God’s heavenly cistern above.

On the desert like ground below, once wilted life
took on new meaning--- terrestrial gardens
bloomed and gleamed with resurrected beauty; and
the warm humid air blew an arousal scent teasing old desires.

Hearts throbbed as love hollowed out
her footprints in the moist mud,
leaving a trail to rejuvenated ecstasy
withering in the desert of old age.

Synchronized in the moment,
they madly dashed for the bedroom;
lit aromatic candles; put on Coltrane’s
A Love Supreme and pull back the sheets!

In that ecstatic moment, they smiled
and drifted off to sleep---serenaded by the music
and the pitter-patter of rain drops falling upon the roof:
Oh what manifestations ‘A Love Supreme’ brings when it rains!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Old Girl Down

               Old Girl Down

One step after another took the old girl down
Rain, asphalt black answered back
Cold shoes, wet feet, puddled deep
Overhead dark clouds settle in 
The forecast called for more of the same
Women and fossils should not be out in this
Sounds splash hard off echoed solid streets
Gray tall buildings went by one after another
When will it end when there is no end in sight
One step after another took the old girl down

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

Endless Summer Love

Walking with the love of my life in light drizzle, hand in hand to breathe the fresh damp evening air, and view the late sunset's glare as the end of summer preludes with crickets' hymn and night birds sing that razed the fire trees last majestic bloom Amid the howling cur, not a care in the world, we share one heart for that is all we have and need, so richly blessed we found True love Though seasons change, as they surely will, when leaves shall fade and fall to icy white, well keep the warmth in each other's hand. Till the last twinkling moment, we let go, to walk ahead, and wait until once more hold hands, to walk in love on that endless summer day that never fades away

Copyright © Jun Gonzales | Year Posted 2017

Details | Verse |

Quadro-The Window of Youthful Dreams

A golden spark gleams
in aging blue eyes, faded gray.
Rain lulls her to sleep
through the window of youthful dreams.

Contest: Quadro
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

it will rain

the river will flow through the plains,
through the plateaus and valleys,
making gorges and waterfalls,
in to the ocean it will wane,
then it will rain.

where may you go but with the slope,
through the valleys of fears and hope,
you may not win yet you may cope,
with seemingly endless pain,
then it will rain.

one lost man may steal and rob,
and cheat his way through the pain,
colored red with a brothers loss, 
will remain all of his gain,
then it will rain.

why do you wander so rattled and weary,
let not the dream be ever more scary,
than the momentary burden you carry,
till the thirst overcomes your pain,
then it will rain.

then it will rain,

and wash away all the gains and loss,
and you will see the pleasure and plight,
the redness of blood, the yellow of light,
in the brightness of ever blinking stars, 

turning to dust all, 
that was lost in the way,
already the clouds, 
are turning grey,
I can feel the moist drops,
Seeping through my pain,
it will rain.

Copyright © shivendra sharma | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


Rain, Rain, Rain!
The health of nature
The wealth of all
The life of an amature,

Rain, Rain, Rain! 
How we play
How you burn me
How you wash my everything away,

Rain, Rain, Rain!
Come by everyday
How you drench us in April
How we miss you in May,

Rain, Rain, Rain!
Stay here forever
Stay here for us
Stay here for humans
Stay to clean us.

Copyright © Mauricio Gomez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Midnight Candles and Oil and Rain


Your...sweet smile...'n-the-rain...lightning and rain!



From...all-that...pain...in waves!




Copyright © Thomas Hsi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Beyond The Window

Looking from the humble cabin
An old man glances out to observe
The meadow lays even at the edges
Flat by the deep waterway incognito
Shades of green seldom seen emerge
Subtle multicolored to be exact
Though there appears to be more
Much more to the story to be told
At last, the rain falls then ends 
Along with the last drop of coffee
Finished as the porcelain cup rim 
Reaches the lips with thin fragility
Warm and friendly to the touch
A spoon falls to the floor unattended
Never reaches its destination
Never landing
As expected, there can be no rest
While the thing is suspended
A beginning without ending

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rispetto |

Rainy Day Times

Rainy Day Times In my childhood, I just relished rainy days, all prepared in yellow slicker, hat and boots. I was oft the crazy kid outside that plays, catching water from drain pipes down off the roofs. Cars would pass, hit a puddle, and what a spray! Beneath my coat, I sometimes wore a swim suit. Now I’ve aged and rainy days are soothing times, to stay inside, feel the peace and write some rhymes. 6/28/17

Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017