The weatherman is trying hard to find
Another way to say rain is forecast.
He knows we hate him when he must remind
That we should be prepared for rain to last.
Two weeks ago we thought spring had arrived
And stored our bulky sweaters all away,
So eager were we to welcome in spring.
Enchantment was short lived.
I’ll find a happy way to spend my day,
Into my house the sunshine I shall bring.
This day is mine to do with as I please.
I’ll not fill these hours with idle fretting.
My cozy house envelops me with ease,
Time a gem within a simple setting,
To be used entirely for my pleasure.
Without guilt I raise up the thermostat
To the degree that meets my comfort zone.
And for extra measure
Treat myself to cup of hot chocolate,
Preparing for a pleasant day alone.
I mute the phone that no one shall intrude
Upon these precious moments, once unknown.
It has been many years since my young brood,
Took so much time, I had none of my own.
I pluck an unread book from off the shelf
And settle down to plan a magic hour
I revel in the novel feeling of
A relaxed, unrushed self.
Behind my ear I place a perfect flower
And pour a second cup of drink I love.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
A beauty of which seems not to alter,
A voice that never seems to falter,
A mind of which has no boundary,
A love of which I can't help but see,
With just one word I shall define thee.
Copyright © Jay Smith | Year Posted 2009
Falling ever helplessly
Into a burning sea
Of passion and desire
Where Rraine surpasses me
Comforted of saving grace
Rising to a cloud of peace
Where Rraine inspires me
Now my life’s a billow
A churning fantasy
A blanket and a pillow
Where Rraine amazes me
Longing for a day of Rraine
Under a pecan tree
My thoughts a scorching desert
Where Rraine refreshes me
Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2016
Let it rain on the
Let it rain on the
meadow and her
For the ember stare of
the bridled sun
Fiddles and suffuses our
Copyright © Benmosi Gomina | Year Posted 2012
SHE beams with joy, like one in love
with love itself and all that’s lush;
and when the mythic Nymphs above
unloose her from the morning's blush,
she descends like the milk-white dove
with the notes of a singing thrush.
With golden locks, as light as air,
and liquid, limpid eyes most blue,
none is like her or can compare
to her beauty and lovely hue
which lift the humble souls that dare
come to her for her balmy dew.
As wind and air Nymph and as muse
with the nimbused crest of a saint
which no man can therefore refuse
or with mean words tarnish or taint,--
so let all Creatures freely choose
to honor her without constraint.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2013
˜?˜ Crying in the Rain ˜?˜
Beautiful eyes crying in the rain
Liquid lines revealing her pain
With a fake smile, she says it’s okay
But her aching heart won’t go away
Tears of sorrow continually stream
As she chokes back a silent scream
Without uttering a single word
She wishes to be heard
A princess is crying in the rain
Endless tears leave their strain
With her heart weary and weak
She struggles just to speak
Seemingly, others cannot see
Only one and that is me
Wanting to softly dry her eyes
Proving that love of life still implies
© Tim Hoffman
® Poetry and quotes from my Heart
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Tim Hoffman | Year Posted 2016
Ended is my week to make Satan smile
The weather forecast calls for sun all day
My camping gear sits in an unpacked pile
As, of course, pouring rain has come this way
I was headed outside to cleanse my soul
By camping out under open blue skies
Although my good plans may have come undone
I will not change my goal
This win the devil shall not realize
As I will engage in rainy day fun
I start a fire in my fireplace
Spread the down sleeping bag across the floor
With marshmallows and chocolates in place
I devour some of my campout smores
I digest my book on astronomy
Learning the position of all the stars
Getting prepared for the next night that clears
Find out exactly how to locate Mars
Gain the intelligence to last for years
Rain will not compound this week’s misery
Beelzebub shall not have his will today
I have learned from my long past history
Not to let some rain get into my way
My fingers will make love to the guitar
Sitting right here on my living room floor
Even though I may not be outside now
I know what good times are
As I throw on a couple of logs more
And I still cleanse my tired soul somehow
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
Rain drops pounding upon my window pane,
Oh joy! Not the foreboding sound of gloom.
The sun blotted from the sky by gray rain
bringing harmony and flowering blooms.
I hear the distant sky's waning thunder.
The catharsis of mother earth's womb shares
the joys of rebirth in the winds chorus
with the sound of wonder.
In the warmth of my home, my soul declares;
the rain has come to relieve me from stress.
Shall I take a sweet nap or lose control?
In my flannel pajamas, I delight
in quiet time alone, feeding my soul.
First, sleep with dreams, love caressed in starlight.
Hand-in-hand, a stroll under silver moon.
Awakened by a gentle kiss to spark
feelings stolen by my mundane routines.
With flower petals strewn,
moistened blooms beckon me out to the park
to skip and splash like a child in blue jeans.
Rain still pours from the sky as I reach home
for a matinee, Singin' in the Rain.
Cozy with hot tea, no more need to roam.
Warm, content feelings, I cannot contain.
Gene Kelly inspires me to leave my bed
dancing through my house with full abandon.
Music plays loudly, I'm liberated.
A gray day turns bright red.
As I dance, ducks splash outside on my lawn.
My tired body feels rejuvenated
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for An Ode to Small Comforts on a Rainy Afternoon contest (Cyndi MacMillan)
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
I viewed the dawn through mist of fading dreams,
Aware of silver feet upon the roof.
Eaves shivered wet, while raindrops welcomed spring
With murmured sounds, and giving me excuse
To burrow down and doze, with warming trace
Of childhood mornings, which have blown away.
I stretch my arms and rise with no regrets,
And see a rainbow’s face
That arches over hills so far away,
From crayons of time, that I will not forget
I love the rain that falls upon the grass
And look beyond the margins framed inside.
I sense renewal come with mute caress,
Will find new places where my soul resides.
The child in me will dance among the dew,
In soggy dress and mud between my toes,
Not to be dampened by a state of care…
Although the day is blue…
My inner child ignores the dark and low,
And thinks of rain the gift of something new.
Contentment comes from little things I do
Old storybooks will dazzle wishes, fed…
to make believe that wishes could come true
I drink some tea, with snack of jam and bread,
And once again, with growing up to do
Old scrapbooks found, to leap right through my age
Just one more moment as the child relents
My childhood bids adeiu
Recalling now, how fondness comes with sage
But knowing now, how well those days were spent~
In Honor of Cyndi's Contest: Comforts of a Rainy Afternoon
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012
Rain washed air…sweet as wine
The rain itself a sure footed dancer
Showers of silver…mist so fine
Quiet as questions that have no answers
Distant thunder that tears asunder
The fragile silence that falls in tatters
As if the world is stunned in wonder
And the pearls of rain are all that truly matters
Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2015
Think of the scent of Cinnamon
Close your eyes and be transported
Back in time…
Your Mom with a trace
Of flour on her face
Sprinkles of tiny wrinkles that resemble
Those… now on mine
Think of the scent of fresh brewed coffee
Think of the chipped cup
In your mom’s chapped hands…
The sizzle of bacon
That has gently taken
You back to the those long lost lands
Allow no word to be spoken
Lest the spell be broken
This transport cross
The fabric of time
Just relax and enjoy it
Allow the mind to employ it
That mysterious mechanism…
That time refracting prism…
That time travel machine
…That resides in your mind…
Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2015
She’s the princess of the world of silence.
Existing outside our normal human touch,
She sees every good, bad, deed we do.
She passes no judgment, just perseverance.
Realizing this world has choice, as such.
Caring not what we decide, or even a clue.
Her soul was guided by plain experience.
Her mind unrivaled, and new very much,
Her name, Rain; with eyes of light blue,
Lips that glimmered, true, effervescence,
Her name was given from her first touch.
Upon the day she was born, it came anew.
Christening with name in natures balance,
Her destiny preordained in gentle touch.
Who would win her heart, capturing dew?
Dew, one of her two faithful acquaintances,
They chatted in a language, Double Dutch.
Mist, the second, now you know of the two.
Stallions, white twins, with no ambivalence,
Only she could speak, hear, revealing crutch.
No other could tell differences in her crew.
One to be her prince in adoring excellence,
Must win confidence of dew in his touch,
No mistake, no second chance for woo.
Many have tried to no avail in adolescence.
Only one pauper’s son left to offer such.
One chance to know, to choose right skew,
His mind, unconsciously knew adherence.
When he prepared his choice, a quick clutch,
His choices correct, all others they bid adieu.
Her companion was chosen, forever attendance.
He rode mist, she road dew, in blissful touch
His heart and soul was, sincere, more than true
Princess and pauper together, rode into silence.
Peace prevailed in their land, never violence.
Princess Rain, now Prince Veil road in balance.
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name Rain, The Story
Written by cecil Hickman
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010
That little drop of rain that touches me gently,
While others run away scared...
Thank you for your gentle acceptance
Didn't really know how close you are
The lightning that screams and seems upset
Thank you for reminding me
That I am nothing without you
The never ending obsession with the rainbow
Thank you for making me wonder
The birds outside my opened windows
That cherish your name every morning
Thank you for letting me know that you are always cherished
Even when I forget
I love myself because how can I love others if I don't know what love is
I am because of a word…..
Copyright © TEODORA MARTIN | Year Posted 2007
With out rain what would we do?
What would we drink?
What about food?
Its helps us out
It grows our cotton
So we have something to wear
With out rain what would we do?
Would we walk around naked?
What about you?
Copyright © Renee Toubes-Stinnett | Year Posted 2007
An ode to thunder storms
Thunder storms are wonderful day or night
The lighting flashing very bright
The thunder as loud as a herd of elephants
Striking our ears with the sound of vengeance
First the air gets damp and thick
The wind picks up with a slight kick
The birds all fly back to their trees
The waves crash hard and heavy in the sea
You hear a small roar in the distance
Lighting just flashed and you missed it
The dark frightening clouds turns navy blue
Some people will hope it will just pass through
Minutes pass and the louder the roar
Like a pride of lions outside your door
All the trees shake along with the house
You dog gets scared and hides behind the couch
It’s over now just the smell of rain in the air
The damage to your house and yard is fare
You look outside on the down low
Looking up after the storm
Copyright © cheyanne lewis | Year Posted 2017
A misty Scottish gale blows fierce
From the grey that clouds the hills
I step onto her western way
Desolate, damp and chilled
Her grasses grow brown and lavender
Stretching as far as I can see
While Hill tops and the horizon
Lead me deep into a peaty sea
From the banks of black Loch Tula
At the base of rocky Bens,
I walk this winding pathway
Bearing forward to Ba bridge
I stop to survey the ruins
That were once, hardier than I
And climb up to a mountain's pass
with Glencoe in my sights
The Buachaille and Beinn a' Chrulaiste
Towers high out from the fog
Herding me towards the gateway
Of the Glen and from the bog
And yet that cold wind continues
Against me all the while
And the rain blows much harder
Urging me to turn away
But the Highland call has taken me
From far enough away
That I see the moor's true beauty
Even on this rainy day.
Copyright © Justin Clason | Year Posted 2017
The big 'R', do you actually know what you're doing
To our week nation,
Absolute panic stations, feckin banter deflation, endless duration
Eternal damnation the foundation, our country's creation.
No shortage of hydration in any location,
Sure isn't Patsy livid, the crops are bad, explicit gyrations.
Sure no wonder there's emigration by the dozen every week,
Has given or society an ugly mutation,
Gets lubrication each day thanks to you.
There's a sad wet dog in the station
You rain on our frustration, wash our sins for we have
Offended out of hatred and vexation,
All we're looking for is some compensation.
Rosary beads in homes nationwide and Bridie is saying the rosary
For a chance of salvation, god love her she's my relation.
The forecast gives us the temptation to believe,
Subtle touch of authority has us buying flip-flops, frustration.
We have brain cells you know, we give into temptation,
Because in this situation we can find our own destination.
Just sayin aviation is our saving grace from drowning captivation,
And there's as much chance getting compensation
from you as we are from a cheap flight cancellation.
Rain we've had enough, because we're ready to make a revelation
And through your bitter tears you'll hear our declaration.
We're out for palpitation then leave you to your desperation,
Because as a population, it's our dedication, inspiration and vegetation
That are emanating through your drops of dislocation.
Copyright © Jim Kilduff | Year Posted 2017
You ask us to search for
And I do
But in my own way.
For I am of the wild
Of the outside
Always looking in
Like the back of a picture frame
And I see things that hide.
I see the rain
I see the sunsets
I see the drip and drop
Of every single echo of a storm
And I hear the beating and fluttering
Of every living creature's heart
I know not to underestimate
Not to take for granted
Only to coexist
Beside what is simply theirs
So this is an ode
To sunset and rain
And all that lends me their strength
In times of hopeless downpours
Copyright © Iris Blade | Year Posted 2017