Best Clouds Poems
Through frayed seams a rosy dream bleeds
needled and re-stitched
with threads of time and love and hope..
and still — a rosy dream bleeds
the miscarriage of a promised rose garden
leaving me bereft but for entwined bands of gold –
contemplative thorns tempt my angst
moony moody barbs bristle twigs of tenderness
sigh— it’s not a laurel wreath worn atop my brow
as I sit alone with a squeamish friend
my blue-sky-to-storm-cloud introspection —
as your distant eyes deserted mine long ago
Winter's beast laid bare a cerebral graveyard
lost you wander amongst laid-to-rest neurons
worn headstones of thoughts and laughter and memories…
you wonder why they hide — why they died
the crackle of cognitive circuitry quiets
branched-lightning fades from unwitting clouds
and aged roots of reality perish
our red rose finished fallen to pieces
you-and-me-petals a messy heap like old potpourri —
yet in dark’s hush love’s scent lingers on our dream pillow
Oh nostalgic sepals embrace me!
my heart yearns to return to the bud
to the fullness of our June bloom —
instead, I bury desires beneath life’s litterfall;
amid pollenless stamens and leaves of one-sided reveries
and cage my fear my despair behind purple thistle facing the light
as I free a smile for you, my love —
you my sun that still parts the rain-bearing nimbus
At times when life seems upside down
and all the world is spinning round,
just lift your head and gaze your eyes
upon the azure autumn skies.
For in the skies, a pure delight,
are puffy clouds of snowy white
just floating softly over head
who’s simple beauty’s left unsaid.
So leave behind the clamant crowds,
and float in cotton candy clouds
that drift the tender skies above
and rest your thoughts in peace thereof.
For in these tender clouds you’ll find
a comfort that will ease your mind
when all the world is spinning round
and all of life seems upside down.
November 16, 2022
Poem of the Day - November 17, 2022
Grey clouds the innocent sky ambushing light turns dark
stumbling over a tombstone opening up cold graves
When eyes become frozen behind scenes in hidden truth
as a weight deadens upon the shoulders without hope
A ghost from past experience consumes the present
and golden sands blacken beneath your feet fallen one
Deep undercurrents strains awaken in the ocean
Invisible cloaked dagger pierces without mercy
I pray waters calming find peace in this mortal frame
as the whirlpool of desires casts an ominous spell
Upon the sea of life Satanic storms enter Hell
and exudes within the malevolent clouds failure
Forgiveness stands at the crossroads beholden no more
within promise of a dream transparent through the rain
As yellow moonlight draws one pathway clearly cutting
brings you safely home to love under a fragile roof
Under black currents of loss when the heart returns beat
in the last teardrop sorrow remained faithfully loved
In collaboration with The Irish Poet Liam Mc Daid
2016
Gray smeared sky like a quilt of rags
Winos sip rot gut from brown paper bags
Threadbare cloud crotch splits up the side
Rain pours down, you got nowhere to hide
Cheap umbrella from a street corner pimp
Turns inside out before going limp
Putrid puddles, soggy doggy doo dollops
Are artfully dodged by high-heeled trollops
A rat scurries by with a piece of bread
Like the ant that totes a leaf on its head
You too once held big dreams in your grasp
But they got drowned with a gurgling gasp
You told me before, no you don't stutter
Your genius ideas got washed down the gutter
Now like a scavenger after a flood
You salvage what's left from out of the mud
Ashes to crashes, lust to rust
In the end it only goes bust
Caught in between the future and past
You start out just fine but finish dead last
____________________________
by Brian McClain - Jan 23, 2016
Angel in the Clouds
Sometimes you look up to the sky
And maybe you can find
In a large bank of clouds
The face and figure of an angel with wings
Who’s looking down on you.
It may be someone
You knew from the past
Who went to Heaven a long time ago.
And maybe that angel appears here now for you
Just to say “Hello”
And to make this moment very special.
You feel an enchantment in your heart
And sense a soft tingling on your cheek . . .
As if a kiss was placed there by this angel
With an encouraging touch on your shoulder
Giving you a wondrously warm feeling inside.
With this magical moment as you’re touched
By this angel . . .
You realize this angel loves you very much
And just came by to look after you
And to send you a joyous blessing
Right from Heaven—personally to you!
Amen.
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
May 17, 2017 (Free Verse)
as a child,
I perceived
the wonderment
of Clouds.
and elders
likewise contemplated
the curious celebrity of them
the solemnity of shape-shifting skyships
their charity of rain:
encouraging fruit
greening hills
irrigating joys
keeping
watch
around the earth
in as enviable
a perch
as the risen sun
or mystic moon
that guides tides.
sun runs
apace
moon whisks
its baton away
but Clouds
stay high,
perpetual
imprints
covering Space and Time.
Could
Clouds
be God's eyes?
***
when I was
-abecedarian-
counting from one to three,
I licked my lips
at Clouds
reckoning
I'd catch them
like docile butterflies,
and discern the flavors of miracle floss:
must be rose-white sugar
some barley flour
lamb's fleece and goose feathers
the elders, lofty and wise,
disparaged my foolish games.
I tugged
on the edge of their mountainous faces:
wispy chins
transient strands
billowy beards
closest clouds
I'd seen
Proximal nimbi
and their dust trail
of ginger, onion, and clove
pulled pork, frizzled cod, light ashtray
lingered...
I caught
those crazy hairs
so hard
candy-coated
raindrops
fell!
hov’ring shroud of clouds
only God can prune a storm
levitate vortex
angels release petrichor
hanging sheets…mothballing hail
A paper man
Under paper clouds
The sky is falling
and he doesn’t know why
His edges are folded
He feels he’s undone
There isn’t any warmth
from a paper sun
Cellophane grass
Cardboard under feet
He has a paper girlfriend
With a paper heartbeat
His feelings feel flat
Just a few wrinkles
Paper snow is falling
A tinfoil star twinkles
A world of my creation
I just want to feel
Hoping my sky won’t fall
Nothing feels real
I’m three dimensional
Under a real sky
There’s hope beyond clouds
When my mind tries to lie
So I grasp for happy
A bit of pleasure too
Even when it’s not easy
It’s just what I do.
Inspired by a friend.
As men we are taught to keep our feelings to ourselves and suffer in silence. In 2012 I went through depression and it took me a long time to look for help. When our feelings are flat and the world feels two dimensional, seek help and reach out to a friend. There are people who love us. There is no reason to suffer in silence. Colour returned to my world and I am thankful. The sky didn’t fall even though in the moment it felt so real.
Dreams are never-ending
Fluffy and white
We want them to be solid
But we know they never might
The world is made for dreamers
Who's transient ideas
Fly high above all others
Floating careless of all fears
Beyond the stars will twinkle
When the lighting is just night
Our dreams, they will caress them
Like a party dress, just right
Take my hand again I'll show you
As we stand under the sky
A new landscape filled with promise
Only for the dreamer's eye
Far away from this bonded crowd,
Far away from these layers of
shroud,
Oh wings of the air glide me away,
To the world, world above the
clouds.
To the giant mountains of mist,
Where sparkling houses of rain
will
be built,
World beneath where would be
moving,
And sun rays where will be cold
and soothing.
Where I won’t be bound by laws,
And I could speak freely about
the
things I love aloud,
Yeah to the world with cloud
above the clouds,
Where everything just everything
will be allowed.
Sliding on morning dews that stays
till night,
Diving in the night’s sky that looks
like morning light,
With no paths to follow,
I’ll glide free and fast,
Yawing, pitching, bouncing,
shouting,
Like the endless penumbra it’s
unknown where I’ll last
Yeah endless it is,
And it’s unknown where I’ll last
For Above the CloudsContest
I think I am late :-( posting this
anyways
The summer sky is such a pretty blue
above us, looking like a tranquil sea..
There are not many clouds except a few.
Up there with you is where I’d love to be!
I picture us both soaring to the sky
into that oceanic blue expanse;
above the clouds is where we ought to fly,
where, like two joyful angels, we would dance!
We’d spin about as if our feet had wings
that lightly touched on an unparalleled
softness! And in my imaginings,
I see us there with happiness unquelled.
Removed at last from earthly cares and crowds,
we’d stay in cool blue sky above the clouds.
Image: Cloud Fantasy, by Susan Lawrence
On spring's green carpet I repose, revitalizing the soul
passing slow minutes pondering the sky
The lake whispers a morning meditation
as memories abound of cloud fantasies
a thousand ships of condensation dreams
Assorted sizes, shifting shapes
capriciously changing contours and colors
white, dun, pewter gray, dusky purple
magically mirroring my many moods
Fleecy, flitting, tiny, quiet, wispy cirrus all alone
like first day of school in a new town
Thunderheads colliding with cold fronts
hurling lightning in angry retribution
resolute battleships storming towards war
Stratus clouds, flat and unruffled
soothing, like grandma holding a cookie sheet
embracing landscapes like a comforting blanket
hugging hilltops in a friendly fog
Misting up at a feel good story
spilling tears on the gloomiest of days
A nimbostratus orchestra performing
a symphony of snow for mountain dwellers
a reverie of rain for desert denizens
Bouffant hairdo like a 60's prom queen
strutting across the sky adjusting her tiara
cotton ball cumulus, billowy like a verbose uncle
enhancing sunsets with colorful stories
.....
The soul of the sky is Sol-
our daylight and warmth, essence and marrow
The stars are sky's artists painting our stories-
archers, dippers, swans, seven sisters,
scorpions, lions, hunters, heroes
The heart of the sky is Luna-
a nightlight for sleepy children
a lamppost where lovers meet
a lantern for the darkest of trails
but clouds are the personality of the sky
written 24 May, 2022
//Inspired by the wonderful art of PS member Susan Lawrence, after viewing her landscape paintings at susanlawrence.net. Each landscape is framed by a different personality of cloud; I encourage all to pay a visit to her website to enjoy her portraits and abstracts as well as landscapes ~ John//
Now here am I
still floating back to earth,
and lightly so,
for all these words
arrive on little velvet pillows.
I wish I could have
stayed up there
and lingered by your side.
Still it is you who signals me
each day with patient wind.
I feel it gently on my face—
whistling softly in my ears and
lifting distant scents for my mind's reflection,
redolent of blossoms far away—
from so very long ago that I'd forgotten.
Therefore, what am I to do
to reassure you
of my life and time?
How are they now that
I might speak of them?
I have chosen thus
to stand alone
on tall and barren hills—
and daily task myself
to paint the wind with clouds.
READERS: Don't just come for a free ride. Offer a thought and honor the poets here on the Soup who work very hard to bring their poems to you.
Passing clouds stir the muse
As flowers bloom in spring
Lilacs sway in the breeze,
A haiku stirs within
With such enchanting ease
Passing clouds stir the muse
In blue skies of summer
Sonnets in the sunshine,
With scenes painted in rhymes,
Each stanza so divine
Passing clouds stir the muse
As autumn leaves fly by
With trees adorned in gold,
A lyric starts to flow
With splendor to unfold
Passing clouds stir the muse
In winter's somber mood
Each season to admire,
Then snowflakes start to fall,
The poet to inspire
4-4-2022
Form M - Monchielle - New Poetry Contest
Theme: Poetry
Sponsor: Constance La France
Who can know the mysterious
ways of the clouds?
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles
looking upwards in reverent penitence.
Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind.
Sometimes they seem almost helpless
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down
by the prospect of an impending storm.
The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass
in billowing silence
crowding the vast
sweeping hemisphere.
Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee.
Clouds are endlessly breathtaking
and appear seemingly mute
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky.
4/18/2023