I followed a raindrop to the sea
Ahead of the storm...following me!
Picked up the pace, to skirt disaster
Quick as I was, the storm was faster
The barometer with fervor fell
The wind danced like a dervish from hell
The thunder rolled and the lightning cracked
Hail descended and peppered my back
Rain ripped the tide and flooded the street
A monster bred from tropical heat
Kept running amok, seeking shelter
Then swam like a duck, helter skelter
A twister kissed me, cast me aloft
Then softly tossed me, towards well past soft
Ended up poolside, up in a tree...
With a beautiful view of the sea
The sun is my barometer.
I'm inherently joyful on all sunny days.
I fly like a butterfly!
AP: 2nd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meteorologist gestures grandly at his map~
meanwhile, my knees whisper
clandestine truths
in Morse code crackles.
The barometer lies, but my hips remember
every coming storm
with impeccable timing,
like a retired sea captain
who still smells salt in the wind.
Seventy years, and the best forecast comes
from vertebrae chiming like wind chimes
in November.
Love Is Who We Are
Love is the breath within our soul,
The quiet force that makes us whole.
It lifts us high, it lights the way,
It holds the night, it shapes the day.
God is Love—our truest name,
A sacred fire, a living flame.
When love is strong, we feel its rise,
When love grows faint, we sense the skies.
Love is the gauge, the guiding star,
The barometer of who we are.
It carries us through storm and strife,
The pulse, the rhythm, the song of life.
So let it in—don’t turn away,
Admit its truth, let love have sway.
Accept its gift, let hearts rejoice,
For Love is One, the endless voice.
Jack 177 26 Jun 2025
A room in my head called emotion
Controlled by various means
A thermometer reacting to the room temperature of others
The cold shoulder of silent indifference
Could turn the blood in my veins, to frozen streams
Other times, blood starts to boil with internal rage
The mercury of overreaction, starts to rise
The volatile instability, damages perception
I work hard on a solution for my personal climate control
I do, have a choice
Reactive thermometer or self-regulating thermostat
Someone else’s winter can be my thawing spring
Heated summer anger, can be a pleasant autumn day
That room in my head, needs comfortable stability
Self-awareness becomes the barometer of my emotions
Overcast skies bring me down
I need my fix of sunshine
to get me through the day
otherwise my blood is like molasses
and nothing courses through my veins
my mood always in direct relation
to my sunshine exposure
it's high when sunny
blue when it’s not
i hate to be so dependent
when i should have control
but there’s not much i can do
besides what's plainly obvious
in the meantime like a cat
i pounce on sunny days
go outdoors soak in the sun
recharge revitalize renew
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Questions may often arise,
As to just how far they can reach?
Where the bonds between two may
Be tested, before they are able to teach.
Early on, it's seen through our childhood,
When we endlessly search for that elusive best friend.
While we playfully mimic our adult mentors,
Only to eventually see it all as pretend.
Delving deeper, there's a constant barometer,
Piercing to gauge one's level of loyalty.
And regardless of commitment or integrity,
It's easy to think that they confused it with royalty.
What is known about these binding influences,
Relies heavily upon the truth in between.
Such that these ties can be strengthened or weakened,
By what's believed and trusted pristine.
A darker gray pours over the horizon,
Cold and wet with a wind to subdue.
Yet with it comes a shade of discomfort,
As if energy must begin a search for a clue.
The changes we all see have been so gradual,
Where to some, it's more like no change at all.
So while the weather slowly reaches new extremes,
Our carbon footprint is seen climbing the wall.
Now it appears most of the planet is cooperative,
Attempting to alter & curtail this unwanted event.
But there's always those few who stand defiantly,
Since their belief is, there's nothing to prevent.
The saddest part of this story is unyielding,
As status and greed are the glue to hold fast.
And as long as some can keep a vise-grip on the last
Oil well, they'll just happily reminisce of days past.
In spite of this, the rest of us know the day is coming,
When our future is defined by this remarkable change.
Giving pause to our legacy and survival,
If we're unable to create a fair exchange.
September sun setting low,
Fall in all its golden glow;
Anticyclones hold transient sway
As mist forms ,at the close of day.
Dogwood,jasmine,marram grass
In flower ,as pressure fills the barometer glass;
Evening primrose in scented bloom
Fill Autumn with pungent perfume.
Winter migrants with welcome calls
As the Indian Summer falters,and falls;
Nature's tempo tarries,then slows
As all creation begins to doze.
A storm just swept through my mind
Its wind just took me away
The world is about to find
My sanity lost today
Do you hear the thunder roll
It echoes loud with sadness
My life has taken its toll
And all that's left is madness
To conceive a master plan
I wait for the rains to fall
The enemy now of man
I'll be the death of you all
The barometer has dropped
My mind is finally gone
The rain has finally stopped
But the storm still rages on
Occasionally
We see
Phenomenal matters of love
With our heart
But not with our eyes
At first, we find ourselves happy
Where we unearth in the yard
At the bottom of the gravel
Gold or diamond
Inadvertently
By sheer luck
Or by accident
The great misfortune
Or happiness
Not far from the hourglass.
Love walks with the season and time
As the clock tells the tone and time
The barometer measures the pressure
Of love with patience and passion.
Periodically
We see
Unprecedented matters of love
With resentment
We ask for forgiveness and help
Since our heart
Is blind, swinish, emotional and sensitive
In the face of irreversible decisions.
P.S. Translation Of ‘Les Matières D’Amour’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
The wind seems a song of placidity
As it passes through the meadow near
But I know it’s a harbinger of treachery
Soon, from sudden blasts of Arctic air.
They say a snowstorm is imminent
We must quickly prepare for the worst
A drop in the barometer is prominent,
And folks in our area are well-versed.
The grocer’s shelves are nearly bare
Of staples like bread, milk, and cheese,
The wind has begun to pick up there
In the meadow and through the trees.
written January 16, 2022
Dogwood,jasmine,marram grass
In flower ,as pressure fills the barometer glass;
Evening primrose in scented bloom
Fill Autumn with pungent perfume.
Sycamore seeds twirl and twist
Onto a fairy-ring fungus tryst;
Stink horn capped with slime,
As carrion beetles pass the time.
Bramblings feast on bountiful mast ,
As the Autumnal harvest dwindles fast;
Yellowed leaves drift and decompose
Into next year's cellulose.
Winter migrants with welcome calls
As the Indian Summer falters,and falls;
Nature's tempo tarries,then slows
As all creation begins to doze.
&fog forms ,at the close of day.
Simple enough to trust that the Lord will provide each crumb of
Individual nutrient to each and everyone of us. In a world of
Move over and let me, we need to make God our confider and
Personal friend. We are all rich in spirit and we need not worry
Love with always reside in our hearts if we realize the value of
Empathy and courage. Both are necessary in this world of ours.
Abundance differs in accordance to the eyes of a beholder, so does
Beauty. Do not mistake material riches with spiritual riches, and never
Underestimate the power of persuasion. Be your own barometer and
Nurture yourself. Grow a garden, read a book, even better write one.
Don't accept the truths of others but rather find your own truth....
Analytical thinking is great by mystical experience is even greater
Nestle close to heaven and talk to the angels they know what they know
Care for the poor, the lonely, the sick, but don't neglect yourself.
End with a smile begin with a smile, send strawberry kisses to all...
I hear music. It's quite blusic, whining sax's that won't betray. I hear drumming, guitar's strumming, as my body begins to sway. It's my thermometer, my musical barometer, the pulsating rhythms that begin each day. I hear music. It's quite blusic and I pray that it's here to stay
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.