Best Drizzly Poems
The warmth of Nairobi in January is gone now.
Here it's cold and drizzly, a savannah
of tarmac and metal jumbos before me.
My natural rhythms have given way
to this soaring erratic chase of the sun.
But I return to warmth—the desert heat
of southern Arizona, and the ardent glow
of my heart when I hold you in my arms.
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
Monday morning slowly waking
Waking to a drizzly rain
Rain that comes down ever whispering
Whispering, time to wake again!
Again my mind’s ever churning
Churning with thoughts of the day
Day of poetry and yearning
Yearning for what I must say.
Say in words what I am feeling
Feeling in this early morn
Morn with my words ever forming
Forming… a new format born!
Born by chance I can’t deny
Deny ‘tis useless, I must try!
Time on and Time off
On and off and on again,
That is the carousel of life,
When it spins round and round,
Till the dizzy heads fall off,
Time on and time off,
Till those little girls grow to be old
And discover love,
And they feel so much better than before
With broken hearts,
And cigarette burns on arms
Laying on kitchen floors,
That had just been moped with red blood.
Time on and Time off,
Over and over and over again,
That drunken buffoon has nothing more to do,
But drop dead in his lazy boy chair
And die.
While his girl,
(who once pretty and pure, now dead inside and out)
Brings him his lunch,
And watches her blood drizzly slowly into the stainless steel sink.
Driving on the way home
Road varnished from heavy rain and
sparkling as gemstones
from where the streetlights flicker.
Extra careful in this weather
Long slow journey.
Dark drizzly night
Misty and cold
I do believe-
I miss you home.
I love how dark
the room, wrapped up
in quietude, the rain
will stir, and the grand
will soon; blanket
of singular drops
will soak the earth
snow cover of grand
wrapped up in cocoon
second cup of coffee
bare feet and relief
from humidity
how silent the rotation
of the fanned out blades,
like the clashing of clouds
there is a cure for silence,
the eventuality that
the world awakens
and the flowers, all wet
there will be the morning kiss;
lips parting, bliss
perhaps it is
a pancake morning
the pouring
of batter and mizzle
“a drizzly-mist,” and
comfort food, or scrambled
yolks and whites
with cheddar and chatter
“brain food”
still, quiet
She muddles an unusually warm December
dark drooling deep afternoon
Drizzly wait,
not long before her hungry needy kids return from school,
recomposing herself against a grey back porch wall
Knees up,
peering out
listening for wonder
How her life is the same,
and different,
compared to her backyard river
flowing surely and widely
but silently south
while a raucous river of cars in front
shuttle up and down self-stated highway's over-fueled Advent
of relentless unholyday traffic
Punctuated
with rambunctious horn blasts,
or perhaps warmly intended "Hello"s,
"Just passing by...."
EarthJustice passing
water toward southerly Sound,
carbon-eaters to her back
across a dusky front yard Advent
of early evening's commercial family business,
industry,
institutions for competing corporate commodification
flowing toward stealthy syncopated impatience,
and then by-passing away.
By-passing,
messiah's mass faltering
to sing in her faithful
but worn thin heart and hair,
hoping her river loves co-redemptive Sounding ocean
even more than busy motor air
surging through more urgent toxic time
investment to completely commercialize
UnBirthing Wonder's purgative sacred flow
into therapeutic nature.
Flow,
transubstantiating home and families
into consumer markets
floating down her river of mid-December's discontent
with waiting.
Discontent,
gloaming river fog
Spreading miraculously radiant
around one uninvited yellow street light
waiting for her family's magic blue bus
delivering this December night's
transforming rebirth.
Golfing Is Great When Done Indoors
How many ways would I have to count
To finally come up with a fair amount
That to tide me over would be enough
If things got tough and ended up in the rough.
Golf games are like a bear who is grizzly
When outside it starts to become drizzly
Guess what golfers and bless their heart
Start heading straight for their golf cart.
When golf game and weather are miserable
It would be more desirable and sensible
While playing, it more and more pours
You dazzle your fans by doing it indoors.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Too Soon
Do very youthful men and women fret
About the ill success of dreams they’ve dreamt?
They barely have begun to even whet
Their lust for life! I think they are exempt
a mere while yet from lessons to be learnt.
They’ll bill and coo before spring season’s spent.
Then soon, and summer-touched, they will be burnt.
And finally, they’ll look back and lament
how weariness, like fog, has come to fall
upon them from a drizzly sky once gold
with April’s hope and not November’s pall.
Beneath Spring’s gilded skies, their growing old
is but a road stretched far in front of them.
Too soon will come cold winter’s requiem.
(Below is the poem that inspired it)
“Age” by Sara Teasdale
Brooks sing in the spring
And in the summer cease;
I who sang in my youth
Now hold my peace;
Youth is a noisy stream
Chattering over the ground.
But the sad wisdom of age
Wells up without a sound.
the mystery of the girl and monsters
in the fog, lost, precarious knocking,
lighthouses, antique dresses,
the back and forth of my imagination.
at sea - the deep, dark movement
of unseen waves, unremembered
dendrites firing at each suspenseful turn.
the real storm, unrelenting all-night-feast
of thunder cracks and lightning bolts -
has Frankenstein’s monster come alive?
the scary knock at the door - don’t answer it!
we laugh so hard, how imaginings and story
support our fear. likewise, the top of the hill -
are you kidding it’s dark? one must
not venture where one might spy a host
of trouble; but the girl you’d follow
in the drizzly mist, to the fashionable past -
inviting, suspiciously exciting, an escape.
with monsters, well…watch out for the tale -
a little-red-riding-hood-precautionary blow.
7/2/2022
December came dancing along
Implying clouds to play their pouring songs
Drenching land with affectionate warmth
Wrapping mountains in snow-white shawls
Enhancing streams with drizzly charms
Ornamenting rocks with soft white tops
Draping valleys with frills of delicate fogs
Aiding awaiting lake with new aquatic stock
Lifting spirits to prepare for Christmas Rock
What is more endearing than your love?
life,
haven,
or beauty?
none I have seen!
Your love is my rum,
It turns loath into a goat of arms,
my demons into diamonds,
and my scares into stars
Your love is my rum,
and also a mum to my grace
This makes me feel like a baby rabbit that move around the orbit of love
Your love is my rum,
It makes my sorrow numbly drunk,
and renders death, worthless
Your love is my rum,
It sets me aglow,
and warmly flows twinkles of wealth and health into the nose of my bones
Your love is my rum,
because every wink from you;
sinks my perception and
shocks my blood
this makes me drizzly fidget in love
Your love is my rum,
because I am always drunk in your rare love
and your rare love transforms my sea of hate into a tea of fate
Your love is my rum,
because it turns my nun heart,
into a tomboy, when it notices your mum and yummy presences
On a dreadful drizzly evening
Traffic light turns yellow to red
No time for weaving, dreaming
You whirl in your car instead
Till you see a man begging for bread.
You call him a slob on the street
As he looks fitful, but fit as can be
Not taken by his trick or treat
You tap your pedal aiming to flee
Till you look in the mirror, and let it be.
August 7, 2017
multicolor hues
raises a genuine smile
in drizzly morning
3-29-2016
She recall her day when she sat by the window
And saw the defiled sky to brace up on with spiritual phantasm
Of some demonic begrudges – amassing and making
The flushing spirit of the late evening merriments and bichrome realism.
She beshrewed the iniquity rushing by, but it pelted upon
It bastardized her against the immorality of the nature
And she held up with no parole and desires…
She felt herself interred to the nature that despair.
The inquity that brigthened with thunderclaps and silver storm
She averted her fear and assailed against this rage
Acquainted herself with the nature she forefended
Pounded for few moments and synced with the lifelike stage.
She clapped, she laughed, she fantasied with the zesty consequence
She danced, she danced with the drops falling from the sky,
She sung her own rhythm catching her steps divine
The music prolonged as the clouds lightened and twittery lyrics whistled thereby.
Enduring the theme, she limned in her imagination
A life she yearned-for, A life she was not expecting
She painted in her heart an amorist she was looking for
Holding his hand she balled on the miry stage with pavan relieving.
The lust she felt over her drizzly body
Closed her eyes as she felt the touch of his lips on her belly
He took hold of her waist and she accured the fanciful time with reverence
She dangled holding the dampen trunk of a tree, and embraced her amorist
temptingly.
The flushing spirit that bestowed with mightiness and relief
She glittered with love, spirit, esteem and belief
All of a sudden she roused from her phantasies
Withal the monsoon girl lived her day, ceasing all her grief.