Best Cloudy Poems
[Verse 1]
Looked out my window this morning
Past the skyline, steel and gray
The Sears Tower used to mean something
Now it just blocks the day
They told me the tallest get the glory
But the view don’t change your name
My tie’s too tight, the coffee’s bitter
And I can’t outrun the shame
[Verse 2]
Took the “L” in, half-awake
Headphones on, just hearing air
Pressed my face against the window
Saw my life reflected there
Last weekend at the Bean downtown
I caught a glimpse of someone else
Don’t know if I imagined it
But for a second, I looked like myself
[Chorus]
Cloudy days, fluorescent glow
Feels like I’m here, but I don’t know
If I ever meant to come this far
Or if I just forgot to go
Cloudy days, and I don’t speak
Light above me, but it don’t reach
And if this is how the story ends
Then I’ve got to write something different
[Verse 3]
She’s on the train most every morning
Reading something old and worn
Looks like she still knows the seasons
Doesn’t bend to where she’s torn
I wonder if she wonders too
What we’re all trying not to say
Would she smile if I said hello?
Or just fade back into gray
[Bridge]
If you’re chasing taller ceilings
Make sure your heart still fits inside
I bought into the pretty pictures
Now I flinch at my own pride
They’ll clap for you in marble lobbies
But won’t stay when curtains fall
You might reach the top by morning
And still not feel there at all
[Verse 4]
I started writing just to feel it
Didn’t plan for it to rhyme
But something real leaks through the cracks
When you’ve been quiet for too much time
Maybe I’ll ask her for that coffee
Maybe I’ll just walk through the park
No headphones, no disguise
Let this silence be my start
[Final Chorus]
Cloudless days — they’re still a dream
But I don’t need to fake the scene
I’m not a title, not a chair
Just a name and breath and open air
Cloudy days still come and go
But I don’t fold the way I did before
If this is how the light gets in
Then maybe I was meant for more
Lord you know all things
There is not even one word on my tongue
Or in my heart that you a haven’t heard
Before I have even uttered them
I am full of awe of you- Selah
Even in my down times when I feel unwell
You are here with me
Your presence is everywhere
Even if I aren’t sensitive to know this at the time
But you give me little reminders
That all life is precious to you
Like when I receive a kiss from a friend
Or a kind word from a stranger
Yes- you are always vigilant to remind us of your care
For I am more valuable than even a precious Sparrow
Therefore;
My heart shall rest in Hope and Your faithfulness - till my change shall come.
© Brenda V Northeast 27th April 2012
cloudy morning--
in the rattle of dishes
last night's quarrel
============000============
kash poet(kashinath karmakar)
The earth is sleeping under the blanket of fog,
daylight gently awakens her from her stupor,
misty mountains melt in the magical morning,
as each step surprises us to what lays ahead,
The clouds float by, spreading their chillness in the air,
wispy breeze blows past sprinkling wintry cheer around,
atmospheric brume brushes away all boredom,
hovering haze heightens our heady adventure,
The climb uphill is as fuzzy as it can be,
vapours blur our vision and view of the valley,
beauty of the place is hid behind cloud curtains
with the biting weather assaulting our senses,
Walking through the clouds in an ethereal feel,
the presence of God is tangible than ever,
words cannot describe the artistry of that place,
some things must be experienced to be fathomed.
12.29.2020
Memories like you dont always shine true.
Nor do old places hold that magic.
In a life so short.
That seems so traggic.
Im thinking of forever while slowley fading away.
Oh such clear thinking on a cloudy day.
A summer ago is when we met.
So far now it seems.
Yet the still my heart holds no regret.
The poetry you inspired apon this very page.
Is ment to complment a love without age.
Early morning memories that you've lent.
Is simpley a dream of time well spent.
A dark sky hides the sunlights ray.
Such is the clear thinking on such
a cloudy day.
Im not blind yet for years
hope has went unseen.
Sometimes age can taint a sweet dream.
Turning bitter the once colorful
fruit.
Killing wonder straight at the root.
A love like our's has kept with change.
And grown in definance.
Like a silly game.
We formed this this passion swept Alliance.
First with love you must blindly fall.
Then you must try to run when you
can bareley crawl.
To outlast the storms is to stand against the wind.
To ignor friends and to put trust in
a stranger and depend.
Many thoughts run through my head.
In the early morning as she lay against me
in bed.
A heart has many rivers a soul is a endless sea.
As we apart we are caged.
While togather we are free.
From this loves eternal bliss my heart should never
stray.
As i sit clear is my thinking on such a cloudy day.
I searched for myself
In cloudy reflections of unpolished mirrors,
my soul seeking solace In the eyes of others.
I asked the morning star to be my compass,
to guide me through the dark,
but not even she could bring light to my path.
I read the words of others,
wearing them like a warm coat,
incognisant of what I needed most -
Only through the bleed of my own heart did I begin to see myself.
As I began to forage in the void,
vanished verses, of my subjective soul,
which once trembled in labyrinths beyond time,
bloomed like born again petals kissed by tepid rain.
In fields where I hid behind silhouettes of butterflies,
I misjudged stillness for death,
blind to suppressed roots breathing beneath me.
My envious eyes cursed revisiting birds
who took their wings for granted,
until I realised the messages that robins bring.
Now my spirit accepts that my past is the most beautiful thing -
I can never have
and the inner child I once was,
will always smile beside me.
I am still gathering the scattered fragments of me.
Still learning I need not be complete
to see my real reflection in the mirror -
I only need to clear dust from amassing
within my eyes.
Sunny days bring warmth
but also cast shadows
reminding me,
when I look behind
that there is only one
and it is mine
That is why
I wish for cloudy days
so I can pretend
there are two
and one of them
is you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sky, a cracked porcelain bowl
turned upside down over the city.
sunlight bleeds through cracks~
cumulus bruises bloom
devouring the blue in ragged bites.
pigeon lands on a wet fire escape,
shaking rain from oil-slick feathers.
somewhere, an umbrella turns inside out~
a black flower gasping.
light fractures on puddles~
liquid mercury swallowing
both cloud-shapes and sky-reflection
until the pavement holds
two opposing heavens.
yet in this suspended breath
between deluge and glare,
a single raindrop balances
on a sycamore leaf's spine~
not falling, not holding still,
just trembling
in the indecisive wind.
we call it partly cloudy~
as if existence was binary.
Once upon a time, in a town not far from here,
on a day that was not bright, on a day that was not clear,
a boy was born, and the newspaper would say,
"It was a partly cloudy day."
Everybody said, "What an odd little feller".
So, one day, his mother took him to the fortune teller,
but she only said as she drew up her shawl,
"Suddenly, I have a partly cloudy ball."
He met her in the morning, early in the Spring,
and by and by, offered her a diamond ring,
but true love once more eluded -
the gem he gave was cloudy and occluded.
His heart was not broken. It just had a little crack.
He sighed and went home early. Then he hit the sack.
He didn't shed a tear or even cry -
he just blinked upon each partly cloudy eye.
In his head, he puzzled as he lay awake,
but life to him seemed hopelessly opaque,
and his confusion would enshroud
a mind partially covered by a cloud.
The years, one by one, eventually passed
by the bloke known for nothing but being overcast.
I'm sad to report that he died just yesterday.
The paper said, "It was a partly cloudy day".
Cloudy
Ominous display
Lowering, twisting, threatening.
Bleak, severe? Gentle showers?
Refreshing, newness, refreshing
Blue sky
Sunshine
The lingering cumulus clouds
imperceptibly changed their shapes
while I sat below discerning
these metamorphosed spectacles.
My imagination went wild
as they drifted across the sky.
It seemingly was like my mind
was orchestrating their transmuting.
I glanced at one that took the shape
of the poet Walt Whitman’s head;
another like Sylvia Plath;
and yet another looked like Poe.
I glanced back at the Whitman cloud
but it changed into Erato.
I took my pad from my pocket
and began to write this poem.
I burned my breakfast
Today will be amusing
and partly cloudy
chatter of bird song
fills the morning air
my alarm clock
I awaken to sunshine
even on cloudy days
Cloudy skies have beauty, too
Galaxies of gray with illusions of blue
09/25/21
Oh, dear what could the matter be?
At twice the ripen age of three
Was standing to bat at the tee
Though staring blankly at a tree
“Take a swing,” the coach was a she
Agreeing, taking it firmly
Hitting and Sending the ball free
Then sprinting expeditiously
A slide worthy of the laundry
“Keep running,” they all said loudly
“What? Huh? Run?” I said breathlessly
The other team look on eagerly
“Oh, ya,” was the last to hit, lovely
Taking two steps, "out!" no mercy
That's it. No more baseball for me
My last t-ball activity
February 11, 2018 Updated 5/14/2019