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Spring Rain Poems | Spring Poems About Rain

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

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Details | Haiku |

spring rain

spring rain overnight dragging winter's chill... the butterfly

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Spring Rain

A golden sun climbs higher still
Warming the night away
Roosters voices float 'pon the breeze
Spring calls come out and play

Tomorrow a storm might come
With torrents of cold rain
Thunder and lighting flashing round
A chill in the air again

Rain that washes the gold pollen
And purifies the air
Also giving a thirst quenching drink
To buds who'll blossom fair

Spring love reach deep within the soul
Let the spring fever rise 
Don't douse the flames burning hotter
Those glowing embers apprise

Only a few golden spring days 
Then summer's fervent heat 
Rest in the arms of spring my love
Soon our journey's complete

Let's burn away the last of daylight's
Hours, embraced in love's flame
Planting memories of our fire
That will live on untamed

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Spring Showers

Rain Dancer Days and nights of hibernation within the clapboard walls, winter winds have eased and only the sound of rain peals upon the storm glass panes. The desire to go out, to run, to scream is strong, yet, on the rain taps a tarantella. The parting soil unbound from icy grasp permits the spear of crocus and of daffodil and though the rain drones an accompaniment with the clock sleep does not come. Knots of lassitude untwine as child-like upon the open porch I stand reaching upturned palm into the falling rain watching as it strokes the waking ground. Cleansed are we all by sky and rain and wind rain on, bless the ground, let Spring begin.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

The Birth of Spring - Constanza

April graces us with showers, 
As cold snows melt, their wintry scene
Is changed to many shades of green.

From tender shoots, soon, Spring flowers.
Apollo's face is golden fair...
The scent of spring is in the air.

As blossoms float down from bowers
When gusts of April breezes blow, 
They spread below like golden snow.

I delight and watch for hours, 
For truly at this time of year
I feel God's presence dwelling here.

Blessed and touched by divine powers.
The joy of springtime here on Earth
Is felt with every flower's birth.

April graces us with showers, 
From tender shoots, soon, Spring flowers.
As blossoms float down from bowers
I delight and watch for hours, 
Blessed and touched by divine powers. 

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |


I love to feel the
wind on my face, 
bask in the warmth
of the sun’s embrace;
But as light misty rain
touches my skin
in divine delight 
I go within...

The wind becomes 
an internal force.
The sun enters my heart
on its warm course, 
But rain endeavors
to keep me whole
and helps to sustain
my very soul. 

© Connie Marcum Wong

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Spring Rain

The rain fell gently through the night
It tapped upon my window pane
Like friends from days of long ago
Who called for me to come and play
I listened for a child like voice
But only heard the cold wet wind
It moaned and whispered in my ear
Until it calmly died away
This call I will not answer now
I'll stay within my cozy den
I'll sit beside my friendly fire
And listen to the rain come down

And here I'll rest and dream and sigh
While nature plays her lullaby

(free flowing sonnet)

Copyright © Steven Mossburg | Year Posted 2010

Details | Verse |

Aaron's Coconut

Start the day. In what way
was the cold spring, last wet summer a
global warning, indicator. Says

one commentator on the op-ed page, the
dislocations, wars, famines will tax humanity's
technology, philosophy, even religion's ability

to see past daily survival to
the music in the rock. I've doubted the taboos
one frog among many in the slow-heating beauty

of the world we knew. Aaron's coconut.
Peepers doing well in the heavy rains, wet
with joy. Hawks and crows thrive below the jet

stream, noise, perhaps our fears
are overdrawn, we'll get along, it'll all hold together 10,000 years more,
the Holocaust will never be repeated, lush mountain and sere

desert equally appreciated, baseball
lazily paced summer evenings, the harvest in the fall
a sure thing, and the dying back a blessing come to all.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

The Spring Rain

                                         The spring rain
                                  Stirs my senses__my gain
                           Soft pit-a-patter music__wind chimes
            The pit-a-patter brings to my mind poems, lines, rhymes
              Saturated by these scents_sounds in the spring times
                            Soft tender fig gives off scent again
                                     Wisteria wafts twain
                                         The Spring Rain

(Trois Par Huit...No catergory with this name..)

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Spring Showers

They bring new life,
Revive the old,
Spring showers,
Wash away the snow.
These showers make me happy,
When I am sad,
They water the plants,
Both good and bad.
My favorite thing about them,
Is they hide all my tears,
They wash away the pain,
Of all my years.
I don't like these showers,
When I want to go outside,
Because when it rains,
I have no place to hide.

Spring Showers

Copyright © Stephanie Weeks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatern |

Rain - a Quatern for Andrea


As in the pouring rain they dine
on soggy leaf and muddy grain
an icy wind disturbed repast
served carelessly to break their fast.

What topics do they chirp about
as in the pouring rain they dine?
The new nest and the coming chicks,
the switch to daylight savings time.

Perhaps they share their thoughts on spring
and the changes in the weather
as in the pouring rain they dine
with the birds of other feather.

They are less cautious of the sky
than others who, in rain won’t fly
and so, relaxing, share white wine
as in the pouring rain they dine.

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Whspers of Light

Tickled with wet prisms
Cocooned with the dead head of trees
Synchronized in natures rhythms
Her skin dancing with shadows in a breeze

Good morning Misses Sun
Inhaling the exhalants of the plants
Worries has she? None.
In spring showers she does gallivant.

After noon parade of Clouds
What stories in shapes do you bring me?
I see you’re not in lack of drought
I do love the song of thunder you sing me

So soon Mister Moon
I’m ready for the spotlight summons
Rolling in your dark doom
The now dry sky cries diamonds

How I love the day
How I love the Night
More than I can ever say
Mmm Whispers of the light.

-B. Maxine

Copyright © B. Maxine Revolution | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Rain Dance Poem

When a poem is born
What is the chance
Of words in rain
Drip drop dance

Ping ting sing
Pitter patter rhyme
Rain dance acceleration
Makes my poem climb

Dribble drench drizzle
Thinking on the fence
Sprinkle splish splash
Bring balance to my sense

From sweat sobs and sorrow
Storm surge steam
Murky thunderous blurry
Cry rage scream

To cleansed and quenched
Shower spray stream
Calm cool clear
My mind is now pristine 

The Earth now drenched
It grew a poet tree
Thoughts and water percolate
Now it's sprouted leaves

Copyright © Victoria Reome | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |


wet cheeks not spring rain….
distinction applied by God
man sheds tears when sad

*Haiku for “The natural thing to do contest.”

Copyright © John Trusty | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Spring Showers

Living on a mountain top in Vermont "Spring Showers" are very dangerous
With several feet of snow still covering the rocky terrain above the tree line
a recue unit is always prepared for the fools that climb the cliffs; unprepared
They pay no heed to the weather report: Spring Showers today and tomorrow
on top of a mountain the rain falls and creates tiny rivers under the snowdrifts
A slow rain tears the bottom layer of snow away with a sheet of ice at its base
The potential now for an Avalanche just rose 80%.Are there fools climbing today?
every fifteen minutes, the rescue squad check their gear. The thermo body raps,
Snowshoes, Snow spikes, heat sensored depth poles,helmets with red, yellow,
and green push on lights, two way radios;checked batteries,Coffee and Whiskey
When one lives up here long enough; You can hear the snowdrifts : drifting
It has been raining for almost 48 hours,as raindrops keep falling my fears rise
Down in the Valleys, they cherish the April Showers,looking forward to May Flowers
I have to go now and call on my ham operator radio for assistance.The alarm is
ringing, the Snow is rumbling down the side of the Mountain.You asked to tell why
we do or do not like Spring Showers. I will tell YOU when and if I Return.

April 15, 2013 for the Contest : "Spring Showers" Sponsored by "Russell Sivey"

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Spring Showers

They sometimes come as strangers to the Earth. But, often, they are unwelcome overflows. From two pure elements they are always made, And they are most essential to the welfare of mankind. They have activated hormones now and then And, sometime later results are proudly known. Many sweaty brows of have been cooled, After work in fields fed by spring showers. As both adult and child I’ve slept to the Rhythm of spring showers on tin roofs. And the sleep resulting seemed much more refreshing Than the forty winks I managed now and then. Spring showers are our friends But when carried by strong winds Can bring devastation And damage of historic proportions. These gentle rains can mean Life’s blood to some and death knell to others. So, spring showers are many things And memories galore flourish after their visit. Written for Russell Sivey’s contest ‘Spring Showers” 04/14/13

Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatern |

Like Angels' Tears - Quatern

Like angels' tears the raindrops fall,
As children gay the songbirds call;
Should I then cry or blithely sing
This dreary day in merry spring?

As children's cries the winds will squall,
Like angels' tears the raindrops fall; 
To know the reason, I desire,
But dare a mortal heav'n enquire?

Some girls pick flowers wet with rain,
An old man smiles and waves his cane;
Like angels' tears the raindrops fall
And splash upon the cheeks of all.

As if in prayer the grass bows down
To meet the clover's purple crown,
For both on them and on my shawl
Like angels' tears the raindrops fall.

*April 28th, 2014*

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |


Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
 She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell     then came the ice, this went on for months.

The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
 I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.

They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves.  Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday. 
as they were called WEEDS ..
 The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.

However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .

The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
 Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
  She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Spring Showers

Drip, then another and another, pitter-patter,
Rain tapping at my windowpanes.
Darkness and whiteness of winter washed away.
Windows opened, breathing in sweet spring rains.
A feeling of newness blossoms deep within.

It seems it's contagious, clearly spring has sprung.
For when the rain stops, puddles do sit about.
Wet pavement sounds, slaps, steps and squish.
Squeals of delight from little patters with their rubber boots.
Puddle-jumpers, splish-splash, resonating me with joy.
Aah, life as is, with the sweet spring rains.

For Russell Sivey's contest, " Spring Showers"

Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

refreshing spring rain

refreshing spring rain
flowers unfold their beauty....
dawn of summer growth

For Contest: Strict Haiku 2
Sponsored by: Charles Henderson

Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Romanticism |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

First Rain

First rain of spring.
Cold, driven 
on a harsh northern wind.
Filling the dry,
gaping cracks in annealed soil.
Restoring the earth from an
unyielding, austere winter.

Essential, though coming as
a bold remnant of winter's
frigid will.
Awakening the raw and 
callous earth.
Restoring freshness and life to 
dormant winter air.
Mollifying the soils
for blade and seed.

Frigid and stinging,
yet still a harbinger.
Verdant spring's first birthing breath.
Slate-gray skies yield and clear.
Warm days will come.
Today, glacial rains signed a
new lease on life
for our northern plains.

Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Waiting Out The Rain

The clouds portended rain
A warning I failed to heed
It is now "raining cats and dogs"
As they say. I must confess 
I'm scared of thunderstorms
Oh yes, and lightning, too 

I'd rather wait out this rain
I'm in no hurry to get to
My destination. The day, so far 
Is uneventful, so I have time 
And a half to spare. If I leave
This shelter
Lightning might stick out
It's forked, wicked tongue

I've got no umbrella or raincoat 
To keep me dry. No sun up
In the sky to bring along heat
So I'd rather kill time by 
Listening to sounds of pelting rain
And watch the ripples drift rhythmically

No sir, I'm not getting wet today
So in  this shelter, I shall stay and wait
I'll patiently wait here 
As precious time goes by. The rain 
Will soon be over, I surmise

Date written and posted: 04/02/2016

Copyright © Edward Ibeh | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

The cold Spring rain

Whence the sun crosses
the celestial equator
northward this year,
in mine stance

The sound is of 
the thud

On the man made

not of that soft splat 
on the pink of 

the Spring sylph’s
bare supple shoulders

Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rondeau |

As I Wrote This

As I wrote this, upon my bed,
fumbling with words yet to be said,
I felt the chill of a spring day
next to glass painted winter gray,
and marveled how the seasons wed.

In galoshes, shiny and red,
kids splashed in puddles as they fled
from their front doors, to laugh and play,
as I wrote this...

I grew old never having bled.
Never left my butter and bread.
Observed the world from where I lay.
Life happened while I was away,
leaving my thoughts and weaving thread,
as I wrote this...

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Cherry Blossom Rain

The humming bees and hummingbirds hang just above the dew
which sparkles through the hazy yon of shadows vastly few.
For lo, the sun peeks sleepily above the emerald east
as warbling birds announce to all, the Mayday breakfast feast.
At last it’s time to celebrate the annual awakening,
now won’t you please get out of bed, oh maiden of my Spring?
I beg you rise and take my arm, they will not save us plates
and down beside the entry stoop, a carriage for us waits!
I’ll not begrudge your makeup smears, nor your tangled hair,
if you’ll but cease this hibernation; you are not a bear!
Come now, free your frosty mind of winter’s chilly dream,
and in the cherry blossom rain, my youthful love redeem.
Alas, the fading carriage sounds. Great, now I’ll have to walk,
and on my way back up the hill...I’m buying you a clock.

Entry for On The First of May

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |


I watch the sky begin to fill,
with clouds that roll and pitch until,
all Heaven seems so black and bleak,
then lightning makes a sudden streak,
and blows the southwind to its will.

The air so fresh it brings a high,
as I breath in the falling sky,
and darkened, all of space now seems,
engulfed in thundering that screams,
and makes the world think it could die.

The first raindrops now hit the ground,
the joy of it is all around,
each budding leaf breaks through its pain,
now free to come out in the rain,
and here is love that's seldom found.

Now falling fast and falling free,
blown in the wind that has to be,
the rain sets in and for the night,
a steady rhythm--cool and light,
and lulls to sleep the deep of me.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

Details | Romanticism |

She is like a Rose

She is like a sweet, smelling rose
blooming in the month of May.
Blooming with large, red peddles
sprawling and conquoring with beauty.
She is like a Spring Rose.

Her heart, like the rose is beautiful.
She stands there, blooming mad.
Her hair flowing, like the rose's peddles growing.
Standing tall and posterious, like the green, stern stem of the rose.
She is glorious and beautiful, just like the rose,
the sweet smiling rose, in the month of May.

Glorious and brave.
as the rain washes her peddles away,
and the gardener coming with his rusty clippers
to cut her away. I hold back and slowly burst to tears.
For I do not want to see my love go away.
But, like the rose she will grow and bloom once again.
And she will come back bigger, brighter and taller.

She is like the rose.
She is beautiful, like the May weather roses.
She is the red, ruby hearted rose,
that sparkles with the afternoon raindrops,
slowly dripping of the peddles.
She is like the rose, for every time I touch the rose,
I get stabbed by her pointy torns.

She is just like the May Rose.
Perfect for admiring, but not for touching.
She is like a rose.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Ode to Nymph

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

Details | Tritina |


An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.

An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.

Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.

Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013