Best All Weather Poems
There's a bench at the high school where I graduated
The wood is cracked, chipped and all weather faded
But in its prime, there each morning faces smiled hello greetings
And was always the agreed upon place, for after school meetings
Many then, lovers initials are carved upon her wood
Though young love didn't last like we thought it could
Also, many peace signs and let's stop Vietnam
Even, one I love John Denver and a, I rule at pac man
Under her bottom is petrified gum of every flavor
Stuck there, because gum in class was considered bad behavior
Like some people need but one name to be known
The Bench, was like a city of its very own....
©Donna Jones
Originally posted 3-19-2013, On A Bench Contest
The falling man, one photograph captured in time
An unforgettable image, imprinted on this mind
He represents us all, weather we like it or not
His faith did not kill him, destiny was his lot
Spiralling out of control, once the planes hit
Acting purely on instinct, not champing the bit
Fire and terror stoked decisions, until overcome
Incinerating heat compels him, never did he jump
This was no leap of faith, Infinitely more than that
A transcendence into agony, he’s looks down at
I try to pen his plight, impossible as it seems
Of a world going mad, upon our Tv screens
I wish it was over quick, that fall to his death
Alas he suffered slowly, until the very last breath
I’m been brutally honest, won’t gloss over the facts
For we owe it to him, it’s with innate honesty, he acts
A picture’s worth one thousand words, some disagree
Falling man, gives nothing away, we can clearly see
My heart’s telling this story, his fall sets the stage
An immortalised snapshot of life, will never fade
For all other innocents, murdered that fateful day
If there’s a silver lining, it’s with confidence I’ll say
Your loved ones cradled you, as the towers fell down
Far across many nations, pain is felt inside every town
Sun and moon appeared together, purposely that morn
Heavenly bodies, bore witness to a new world reborn
And this occurrence, should give a tiny ray of hope
Not used as a tool of glee by Helios misanthropes
Below is a comments box will the Helios misanthrope set foot in it
not a cowardly chance
By
David Kavanagh
Bluebird…pretty little bluebird, see
all the budding Spring…beautiful
chiming of melody and spruced up
leaves, shiny and thriving, dewdrop
tingling. Bluebird, come and see -
give us a sweet twiddle dee dee.
It’s Spring so alive with canopy skies
and the happiness thriving with seeds
springing up - buttercup daffodils,
roses, posies, forsythia and black-eyed
susans, crocus, hyacinth and phlox.
Bluebird in layers of colorless feathers,
who would know, the magic wand
of light twinkles about and catches
our eyes, whether blue, black, brown
green or blue — all weather hues.
Bluebird…pretty little bluebird…see!
3/28/2022
The stone stands alone it seems
against all weather and wane.
No one to share the vicious rain.
No shelter from wind or snow.
Storms come and go, the stone remains,
a little battered but tall and proud.
The kiss of sunlight warms through,
easing the cold dampness away.
The love of the moon lights the night,
not so alone is the standing stone.
Given time I just need to stand
let me see my parents smile
trades what I couldn't do without
prayer of hope that I wouldn't leave them
because some days I blur them out
I complain that life was hard
But to see death come to them is even harder
let it bring the truth
I no inside my eyes there lye's the proof
its me, they are who the should be
my realization is weak
my imagination is fiction
but bring into life is what I fake and make is what is existing
trying to take control of the feeling
but to lose all that with the past times
makes the situation rewinds on my mine
forgive me god now I am trying
I don't wan ta to leave u daddy
But I think I can make it on my own
I don't wan ta see you weak momma
I only wan ta image of you as being strong
Yes I know the rain don't only wash away
The sun is not what brighten the day
and its good to place these things together
but my emotions is lost though all weather
bring me though
don't let me blame
just give me the strength to gain
let me be who I'm supposed to be
don't let me fall into the dictation of hurt
god bring me close to my identity
The lighthouse stands atop the hill,
A warning for the sailors,
That here be shallow waters,
Reefs and widow makers.
She stands there in all weather,
To shine her beacon bright.
Through wind and rain and dark of night,
She's there to shine her light.
Some say the lighthouse came to be,
Because of an old story,
About a sailor coming home,
Braving some storm's fury.
His ship went down somewhere 'round here.
The sailor lost his life,
And now whenever there's a storm,
You'll see the sailor's wife,
Standing high atop the hill,
A lantern in her hand,
And if you look along the shore,
Sometimes you'll see a man.
He comes out of the water,
To climb the wind swept hill,
Where she stands with lantern light,
Waiting for him still.
Judy Ball
In the mist of the Scottish countryside
Where clouds touch the lofty hills
Stands a castle on a shores edge
Rocks and mortar laid by hand
Cobblestone pathway over the bridge
Centuries of footsteps preceded
Once kings and nobles walked in grace
Now is only one persons place
Out upon the Loch winter would arrive
Cold wind and frozen ice gather
The castle walls would keep out the frost
In spring ice would jam up against the rock
As early heather blooms upon the rocky shore
Winter gathered it's coat of white
As crocus and tulips now grasp the sun
Summer's new grass shoots come alive
To the rhythm of the soft warm winds
The seasons come and the seasons go
In all weather the castle remains firm
A landmark for centuries will stand
This castle made to withstand the test of time.
4/19/14
What makes the hiking up mountains more striking?
What makes the driving more fun than arriving?
What makes the ocean-ing worth the sun lotioning?
Gear!
Gear makes the biking much more to my liking,
Gear makes the camping way less spirit-damping,
Gear makes the gardening less callous-hardening,
Let's hear it for Gear!
Now softball-leaguing is way more intriguing,
Now boogie boarding is much more rewarding,
Now even jogging feels less like a flogging,
3 cheers for the Gear!
Titanium! Spandex! Aluminum! Latex!
Hi-tech! All-weather! Light as a feather!
No wonder I struggled for many a year -
I had not the wherewithal to buy the gear!
I just remember our college days
Together all weather we did face
Time is going fast without grace
We walked in life on different ways
Thank God, you, I could just trace
I with love visited your living place
Surely God helps if one truly prays
To reach divine bliss, we all chase
God will definitely take up our case
Now we belong to the human race
All humans are competing in rat-race
But, what we need is only God's rays
When all morals, a soul sincerely obeys
With that soul, the Almighty ever stays
Of course, upon all, cunning fate preys
Fortunately this holy prayer surely pays
To rescue us, God's blessing always plays
If its faith a humble soul calmly displays
Solution will show to it its charming face
Our happiness, nothing can displace
If pure belief we have on all the days,
To test us for truth, God just delays
One day, happiness will finely surface
On that day, holy bliss, we will embrace.
mvvenkataraman
Water covers three quarters of the earth,
And provides for life that's diverse,
It is an absolute requisite for life,
And it's precipitation as rain,
Is what keeps this planet sane.
Without its hydration,
All living beings energy is drained.
There are very few substances
that can hold water
and are impermeable to its flow.
Every seed you sow
Needs water to grow.
The earth emits her precious minerals,
In the form of crystallization.
On a dry day
Water can invigorate a distressed brain.
Water the all-weather weaver of life,
Witnessing wonderful life flourishing.
Water running down the hills as a river,
Ensures green bounty on it banks,
While meandering through the valleys and plains,
And bestowing life even to the humble grains.
ALL WEATHER DOG
Recently went on a rainy walk
Wasn't my idea voted a fireside talk
Now the rain has turned to snow
Does that stop him - no ready to go
He's got the boots and other gear
My feet are bare will be frozen I fear
Home's a welcome sight at the end
I'm sure I can see it round the bend
Dogs get blamed for feet with mire
Won't be my feet bringing the ire
If I get left on newspaper again
Then I'll know I just can't win
One more message I will leave
Dog was here and on this paper peed
ELIZABETH SMITH
Green and golden vibrantly shines
on soft red lines
as summer dew
is gentle blue
The hues of the peacock feather
in all weather
fills one with love
in gentle cove
Silver blessings fall from above
labour of love
feathers unfold
a bird of gold
10/10/12
By- Tahera Mannan
Contest- Just A Minute!
Dad
is all weather umbrella
is what they say...
rain or shine
there to protect
is what they say...
But then don't we
open and close it as per our need
is he a puppet I wonder ...
When torn and rusty
we discard to buy new
is he object with limited validity I wonder...
When Dad needs protection
Kids hestitate to be his umbrella
is dad's not someones son and son others dad I wonder ...
Cycle continues, many a Dad continue to suffer
often at hands of son till he is dead
is dad derivative of dead I wonder...
Many a dad are taken good care of
Sons compassionate as to their own kids
is son derivative of bright sun I wonder ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Hitendra Mehta
For June 2012 Poetry Soup Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hector McLean.
Not Grandpa, nor Grandad or anything in between,
He was simply Uncle Hec to us, was dear old Hec Mclean.
The Western District, up Casterton way, from where he hailed,
And stories of his youth up there he happily, for all, regaled.
A thin and wiry frame he wore, a tough and wethered face,
Button shirt and pleat trousers he wore along with double brace.
The front porch he often sat, cigarette or pipe in his hand,
On a simple chair, deep in thought, gazing across his land.
Comfortable in the company of children, he really did enjoy
Providing fun and games to play, their idleness to employ.
Practical jokes were often played, the lark in him was led,
He liked to put a huntsman spider into the childrens bed’.
Out into the paddock collecting mushrooms, dig the garden for spuds,
No need to wash them down, just wipe dirt away with his duds.
Cut chips and mushrooms in the pan to make a lunchtime feast,
A cup of tea and slice of bread, and he would have the least.
A seldom trip made into town to stock up on supply,
Sit in the car, chat a bit and watch the town folk stroll by.
On the trip back to the farm he would let the kids have a drive,
Childish curiosity he encouraged, their requests were not denied.
I’m sure he loved us all, weather girl or boy,
Having kids around him always gave him joy.
I don’t know if our parents knew the influence he had on us all,
I just know that when I stayed with him I really had a ball.
response poem to Moon and the Sky
a waif with tangled hair of blue
stared into the sky despondent
covered in paint of a squeamish hue
she yelled and squeaked at the goddess
danced a tantrum sort of jig, stuck out her tongue
and bit it
I want some joy the child demanded
in a voice both petulant and pained
the astronauts landed
and brought back some rocks
but I know
there is more that remained.
each night you sit and stare at me
I never know the reason
on a silver swing hung over the sea
in all weather and all seasons
but now I have had enough of you
peeking down upon me,
I’m going to find a lawyer and sue
for lots and lots of money.