Best Cloudscape Poems
Song for the Sky
I sing of the sky's beauty today.
Holding our hopes to its
watchful heart,
As we go on our way.
It's the soft, loving cloudscape, we hold in awe.
As birds bless blissfulness
and our humbleness.
On special days, the sky, like
magic, waters our Spirng thirsty flowers.
I love to watch raindrops on windowpanes.
Doing creative dances for hours and hours
Sky~ thank you for being there!
I whisper to you ever so softly of
secret dreams, that only we two share.
May 14, 2020
5pm PST
Poem # 1268
I stood on the cliff and asked the wafting clouds exultantly,
"You greet me every morn, you watch me through
My windows and peer through the chinks,
You have been a mystical part of me through
My childhood when I skipped and jumped with friends
And through my confusion and confidence in adulthood.
What does the future behold for a dreamy me?"
The sky seemed bluer in the cloudscape and I heard echoes
" In the labyrinth of choices your future is sown in........your future is sown in
Your cherished dream was an unbelievable reality................believable reality
A kaleidoscopic ride after the nature you've churned out for self..........for self
An investment in optimism has enveloped you in calmaria..............in calmaria
Enjoy the fruit which is multiplying with interests......................with interests".
May14, 2015
For Skat A
Any Poem You Are Proud of # 3
(May 10, 2016
For Nayda Ivette Negron)
*Calmaria (Spanish)- after a storm comes calm
Poem is in a dialogue form; the second verse is an end line word poem.
She still paces around the churchyard
without a hat on her blown tresses;
an autumn cloak rustling beneath a gray cloudscape
that somehow, her eyes wander on,
not because she relishes the flick
of icy leaves...not because silk orchids lay
on a marbled cross: rather,
her thoughts gather among dry thistles to wail
upon a crypt nestled by life’s hammock of dust.
The lull from breezes affirms such quietude
of her beloved now resting on potter’s field,
sealed by the finality of death : this instant crash
through night's byway pinning him down down the abyss...
And the mist spills into another hour
unrelenting in bowed silence,
as if he loved her essence more in ghastly ruins.
Broken Wing's Could You, Please Contest
Submitted 10/20/2017
Originally Written 10/17/2017
The cloudscape changes
and floods excited crowds of sunlight
on a patch of playful sea,
turning fat green hills
into toyful bumping buses.
The wind turns her back,
shows me her cold white legs,
striding away.
The land is blackgreen,
the sky is dark coffee;
there is no exit sign.
She rips open the sky, the wind,
with a naughty laugh,
she breathes sea sand through my hair.
I do love you after all, she sings softly;
old apricot flavoured philosopher,
you ancient jingly bag of thoughts.
I love you
even though I cannot take you
yet
Sunrise in the morning fills the heart with glee,
a new day, a new start for you and for me.
Quote - Poet’s own
To Each Devottee
Sun raised her head in a blaze of glory
Rising from behind a picturesque tree
I stood in awe as she rose to her space
To shine down on the world with lustrous grace.
The sky was a sight to glimpse this morning
Bright blue with wispy cloudscape adorning
Sunrise is stunning, as is the sunset
Alluring bequests of which earth is blessed.
Ofttimes I ponder o’er planets mystique
How round the universe asteroids creep
Of the moon and stars that light up the night
Though by morning have disappeared from sight.
Praise to the magnificent creation
Being viewed worldwide from every nation
In different time zones though it may be
It’s God's precious gift to each devotee.
* * *
23rd October 2022
Written: November 17, 2025
****************
The night used to gargle with garrulous joy—
canorous crickets, a capacious choir
beneath the diaphanous veil of dusk.
Now, only the hissing of wires,
the gaseous hum of machines
careen through the cloudscape.
I prowl the porch at the moon’s behest,
a flaneur of vanished felicity,
searching for the fetching fipple-song
that once gamboled through the grass.
But the calyx is closed.
The petiole wilted.
The elixir of sound—evanesced.
Where once the heron slept
and the wisteria wore its tiara of dew,
now lies a threadbare hush,
a dismal hex of silence.
The garden, once gaudy with chirps,
It is a byzantine grave of elision.
Did we disassemble for too long?
Rake too deep?
Abase the earth with hubris
And flapdoodle dreams of dominion?
Did our egregious hunger
for luster and control
writhe the world into quiet?
Written: November 26, 2025
*****************
She cares for the pedigree cattle,
their fleece brushed into luster,
domesticated dogs prowling the yard,
obedient to her behest.
She is a good mother—
her hands sow carrots,
her voice a catchphrase of sanctity,
her smile a tiara of sky foam.
However, while holding a feather…
she teaches me to wring its neck.
While holding a feather...
she shows me how love can writhe.
While holding a feather...
she whispers that mercy is moribund.
The cloudscape of her face shifts,
dusky shadows grate against the light.
Her gregarious laughter,
threadbare and spasmodically sharp,
becomes a panegyric to discipline.
She is a good mother—
who rakes the soil with staunchness,
who rescues the stray,
who feeds the wilted wisteria?
Yet she is also the provost of violence,
who teaches catharsis through hecatomb,
who makes me smear myself to hubris,
who shows me that sanctity can evanesce.
Her lessons are sacrosanct,
her love ubiquitous,
her burden ossified in my bones.
And still, she is a good mother—
with a bird in my hand,
with a bird in my hand,
with a bird in my hand…
When sunset bows amidst the hilltops,
My warble coos on fields;
And through the ever- glowing night
This womb of nest I keep,
Where flappers reel like tints of sky
A mix of white and cobalt -blue,
To guide oak trees from silhouettes
Against the rail of grass.
The seasons house me with warm grace,
Rich the buds growing soft
Adorning my emblazoned wings,
Etched across the cloudscape.
Yet, the flavor of autumn blows
Heralding distant flights;
Till wake of spring escorts me back
From old Capistrano.
Early Feb 2018 Premiere Contest:
For Brian Strand
Slowly pulsing through glittered haze
Under cloudscape, her locks blow wild
Misty the blushed roses, ablaze
Moon of summer, warmth of hayrides
Enchanting peach fragrance of the night
Reveal your glory, dear chromed fay,
My eyes chase a Selene’s delight
Over hills wrapped in flamed crochet.
Oh, sleep denies a lullaby
No matter how you beam, goodbye!
Francine Roberts' Summer Acrostic Contest
by nette onclaud
I've watched the isles at dusk
Cool and mysterious they lie--
Where old and deep-boughed cedars
heave, as gleaned from a cloudscape
on earth's threadbare attic,
While lines of faded stars
slip into gauzy white--
to appear like brushed, eerie ghosts
on howling psalms that sought
the need to settle in the vault
of an empty, ruined church.
Brian's Select 4
Sauntering in the park ,a man remembered
this naughty lad, stuck on a wooden bench
in the middle of carnival hours, yawning…
till the drizzle of rain caught this toddler
alone, while everyone flew off behind
the edges: although his aunt’s red parasol
could cover a messed-up hair, the nimble
body leaned ahead-- watching the myriad
of bright carousel flags rustle along .
Ignoring the yells of kin’s shrill echoes,
he insisted on staying to view a montage
where hued ferris wheel stopped,
the glossy fall of balloons warping
as he laughed at this impromptu show.
It wasn’t the gust that annoyed the child,
not the gaudy umbrella… no, all he needed
was a bundle of cotton candy he longed
for the minute he saw it …rainbow-flushed--
just like the way he imagined such treat
days before the fair arrived. Oh, oh!
His run-down aunt wheezed away into a cloudscape
bringing the sweetened fluff, in the nick of time.
The man grinned at these imprints, replaying
his own prank and innocence on that nightfall,
when moments of boyhood were etched
in a male adult’s heart… his fingers now gripping
one large-sized, bright cotton candy.
Contest: Red and White Polka Umbrella for Eve Roper
9/30/2017
From its own space in pastels of morning
Our town's lake wheels beneath a hued cloudscape,
When day caresses and traipses inland
New sun unveiling an auroral drape.
How tides frolic on rubbles that grace by
This pure moment holding an endless fest…
When jiggle-wiggle sound of breakers glide
As egrets' chorale peaks their tune with zest.
On through shoreline basking on grass and fern
Canvas of trees come noon...rests from this spree:
Until sand dunes quiet down to merge
With waves now tame ...ending lake's jubilee.
------------
8/08/2019
Devotion To Ocean Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Now lies the waterdroplet on the edge
Excess moisture wrung from the foggy air
Droplets that are somehow a reserve hedge
Drops that all the insects, birds, lizzards share
French Tarragon pointed leaves perfect shape
For water to collect travel down tip
Hang suspended surrounded by cloudscape
Time seems to stand still few hours 'till slip
Gone with the heat of the appearing sun
There for just short time so that all can drink
The sun has done a good job and you spun
Dry as in a modern dryer in a wink
To all things there is a season but some short
Can some be extended _ not early thwart
The bamboo drifts through whirl of breeze
To gently urge me back to quiet rest
Opening the veil of fresh morn's grace
To becalm my heart .where gjastly shadows lie--
Our lyre of affection... fading away
I sip notes of love alone with night;
Beauty still her pose, beneath cloudscape
Finding her thoughts among bubbling shores,
The whisper of night- music as one.
Kindled by echoes, the moon's fading light,
Falling upon fluid of smokey eyes.
..........................
Song I - Cold - Quiet Now Contest
For Rob Carmack 9/3/2020
Come, loved one... stay sunlit grand
Let birdsongs from those lips croon to me,
Of radiant morns holding your blooms
And leaves aglow winging carefree ,
These lustrous scenes...gifts of revelry.
Lady, Lay...endow air with languid tunes
These hands brimming with flowers
While charmed presence speak of magic ...
Your enchantment flaming my hours
Till cloudscape fondle us with late showers.
All through seasons, dance me tenderly
Dare not vanish, trail off, or depart;
These springtime dreams are nestled
All through weaves of my mesmerized heart,
Awaiting your bridal nod ...from the start.
Then when life's greyish clouds billow
Tousling remnants of our younger days--
Will you caress and shake off my tears ?
I'll race us into old twilight's grace
If only to meet our lasting embrace.