Best Mizzle Poems
Today is a drizzle day,
The softest showers fall,
A rain caress from the grey
clouds above does enthrall ~
Drench my heart, o gentle spray!
A brush of love from on high,
A sprinkling of raindrops,
This light mizzle makes me sigh,
as this trickle ne'er stops ~
Saturate my soul, dear sky!
A tender stroke of warmth moist
dribbles down with levin*,
Cool rains, my spirit they hoist,
Blissful beads on my skin ~
Immerse me in joy unvoiced!
*levin - lightning
Categories:
mizzle, rain,
Form:
Quintain (Sicilian)
I wink my eyes for you
Each day of my life
In each tic I blink for you
Every minute I enjoy my life
Endless thoughts of you
Kept me awake, dreaming of you
The clouds I see each day
Blows my mind away
The blazing wind that whispers your name
Day and night, serves my flame
Dusts that circle around me
Gusts of memories, you mizzle me
The sun that opens my day
The moon that lightens my way
The rainbow that colors my sight
The stars that strengthen my might
I close my eyes at night
My thoughts still awake and bright
I dream of you every other night
Stars spell out your name under the moonlight...
Categories:
mizzle, inspirational,
Form:
Romanticism
It starts as mizzle, a lethargic drizzle dribbling down the pane.
It’s dull and grey on this miserable day - I want to have some fun,
a sudden flash brings a big fat splash raindrop racing has begun.
The skies rock the starters block, they’re pelting down the pane,
tipping, slipping, constantly dripping, never ever still,
chasing, pacing, always racing each other to the sill,
lashing, dashing, splishing, splashing giving me such a thrill.
Their watery tails leave comet trails blazing across the pane.
They’re hell for leather in this inclement weather then out peeps the sun,
her soft warm glow makes the raindrops slow evaporating every one.
26/5/2013
Categories:
mizzle, race, rain, weather,
Form:
Rhyme
A raging sun raised over the sky so bright, kindled upon
The earth desired for thirst, the first ray hold upon,
By the crops reaped over the farm so baked -
Steamed by the nature so distressed,
The flared breeze glowed over the life withheld.
A muted zephyr pass by the morn, betide upon
The daylight so hoped-for, the first drop gushed upon,
By the wind so aroused over the fight against blaze -
Danced by the mizzle so greeted
The sensation of expressions for the moment winded so delighted.
Moistened by the drops fell upon so pleased, retrieve upon
The sowing over the sloughy farm, the last ray hold upon,
By the dismal days of cloudburst -
Streamed over by the ken so roaring,
The time of the year met with the season of showering.
Abased sun faded by the sky so dark, mislaid upon
The sprinkle dripped for reseeding, the first ray hold upon,
By the awning fitted for shelter over the sidewalk –
Drenched by the approach so merciful,
The mournful reek washed over the shore so disgraceful.
An abstract world by the city so ludic, played upon
The time seemed lively, the first dive swam upon,
By the pleasure of life -
Versed by the pleasance so alive,
The sweet flow of liveliness hoped to survive.
Lasted numb behind the clouds the sun once peeped by the drizzle, showed upon
The rays gently breaking up the sky by the colours differentiated, hold upon
By the welcoming of feathered white clouds –
Eased by the greenery so eying
The time of the year met with the season of fall-flowering.
---------------------------------x---------------------------------
Categories:
mizzle, nature, seasonstime, life, sky,
Form:
Ode
She lived alone in her domain,
Recited and danced with great height,
Beneath the gentle blossoms leaves rain,
Sans approaching in anyone's sight.
She was very shy,
But her placidity and fortes was high.
Her liberty was beyond imagination,
She was not a part of this sinful creation.
She ruled on every path, mountains and trees.
None can stop her to dancing,
Neither the heavy mizzle nor the tough breeze.
But,
One day many foreigners arrived.
They started drinking, smoking, creating bars,
And seized her holy land,
But then, her bravery made her stand.
Till the last breathe, she battled very hard,
But eventually they ripped her apart.
- Augastus Black
Date - 18th June 2015
Categories:
mizzle, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
Thine was the glory -
When the sun rose one winter morning,
To love me, I relished myself and basked with my esteem,
I was abided by the greeting rays -
And I followed it, till my eyes seized me...
Thine was the glory -
I saw her at a glance and it seemed I lived the moment -
It seemed I lived a life.
Thine was the glory -
When the moon gleamed one winter evening,
To hug me, I enchanted myself and suspired the fondness,
I was maneuvered by the adorning rays -
And I winked it, till my arms hemmed in...
Thine was the glory -
I hugged her for once and it seemed I lived the moment -
It seemed I lived a life.
Thine was the glory -
When the spring got hold of time and allayed the daylight,
To verse me, I sensed myself and pleased the warmth,
I was sedated by the soulful met -
And I graced it, till the flushing time...
Thine was the glory -
I assured her for once and it seemd I lived the moment -
It seemed I lived a life.
Thine was the glory -
When the summer flamed up and brightened the liaison,
To bless me, I devoted myself and assured the consequence,
I was honored by the moral dignity -
And I adored it, till my endurance evinced the realisms...
Thine was the glory -
I valued her for once and it seemed I lived the moment -
It seemed I lived a life.
Thine was the glory -
When the sun doomed behind the roaring clouds,
To lust me, I drenched myself and coused along with the mizzle,
I was lipped by the wishful drops -
And I sheltered it, till my love stormed with the illusion...
Thine was the glory -
I endured the roarings and it seemed I was only living those moments -
As it only seemed I was living a life but not a realism.
Categories:
mizzle, imagination, life, loss, lost
Form:
Free verse
Fuzzle wuzzle,
wuzzle woo,
muzzle mizzle,
wizzy boo.
Neezzy weezzy,
dizzy woo,
tizzy fizzy,
....my feelings for you.
Categories:
mizzle, love
Form:
Clouds spiral down and curl around to touch me
—not those western drizzle shrouds
baring a soul of misery mizzle
...though I adore a good wallow in sorrow —no
these clouds come from yonder bluebird wilds
white cirrus wispy and whispery dance around me
I steal one to wear across my shoulders
like a platinum’s blonde’s faux stole
they come to me like papier-mâché angels —no no
that’s too cliché… and passé for I’m far beyond
the Godly touch of angels… hmm.. they come to me
like a lover —no too easy …like a heartbreak-er lover!
yah I’ll go with that and get a taboo tattoo of his name
anyway the clouds they find me where I stand
dissatisfied with being satisfied
the result of my cool cat face seduction
I wear a crimson bee balm boutonniere
display it on my plunging V lapel but
it attracts wasps instead of honey bees; I find
danger brings a secret pleasure to my displeasure
my leopard print pants (red sky colored)
stirs sir knight with his bridled gaze and walking stick
he watches my next move on the chessboard
tries to guess my breezy strategy
my hands behind my head legs crossed
maybe it’s a white crested ocean I'm floating on
—or wrestling with— either way
I’m here to play and paint a displeased scene
watercolors? they’re just transparent hues
applied to my white background
depending on the mood of my mood ring —but
when acrylics bleed it’s harder to see the scene
colors escape their space creating a slurry
of what is where where is when when is why
and why don’t know why ..what?! but I know how
blurry lines take on a life of their own
and shapes a new fate from ‘no gesso’ mistakes
I could switch my style to snarly tiger stripes today
and gladly take that horse-headed knight down
that wooden old guard has new orders
he’s suspicious of me scrutinizes me
but only half as much as I’m used to
his right hand on his monocle
—the other eye blind
just beyond the reach of his walking stick
I free my torso of its purple grapevine corset
uncinching my fake waisted form —I muse
if my time as a wastrel was wasted or invested
oh …the monocle is telescoping me again
I shimmy lose my butterfly wings
slap him as I flap them and fly away
it’s hard to know if I’m still beautiful
or if I’m just broken
—either way I embrace the rainy side of the rainbow
happily discontent
Categories:
mizzle, beauty, growth, happy, longing,
Form:
Free verse
incessant, mellow mizzle
a newborn's feathery caress
23rd March, 2023
Form: Abantu
Categories:
mizzle, baby, rain,
Form:
Imagism
We carry small talk above our heads, ceilings drip clouds.
Nothing is put away. Coats dangle over chairs in layers.
Drugged by spate and mizzle, denim droops,
snagged over rummage
and the outstretched arms of impedimenta.
The house awakes to a soft toed patter.
Around us, cuffs pull the roof closer to damp collars,
hangers weep in wardrobes,
while the unhung sink in muddy shallows.
Before the light paddles away, calico, cotton, and shirttails
are rescued, bundled into higher heaps;
the soggy separated from the merely mildewed.
The muddled and fusty raised above an imagined tide.
Tomorrow, front steps will be scoured;
the washed-out made to flap.
Squirrels may walk the earth again,
and if a blotting wind returns, we will wave
from dry bathtubs.
Categories:
mizzle, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
This is midnight, all slept indeed,
The factory bells do chime,
Ding-dong dong, thrice the sounds arise
From yonder darkling clime.
No one is there, two faint lamps glare,
Who rang the rusty bell?
It must be three, a shade does flee
In earshot of the knell.
Upon my eave the pigeons live,
One flutters tender wings,
It heard a whiz as soft as grease,
And to the wall it clings.
There is a grange, a mansion old,
Deserted since the yore,
Such creatures as with deep black fur,
Hold sway around its floor.
No iron melts on fire these days,
The blacksmiths all have left,
And all day long a thrush her song
Attunes to good effect.
She quavers in her leafy nest,
The pale shades pass again,
The rumbling sky does well deny
A sound sleep while she's lain.
Mine eyes are closed yet well awake,
The pattering distant rain
Revives the tendrils grown unsought,
An omen of the bane.
My windows smeared with mizzle mist,
That dreamy opaque layer,
Obtrudes my view with chilly dew,
A fancied world lays bare.
"Don't be afraid", a voice just said,
A whisper grim and grave,
As from a king or ancient sage,
Conquerer of the knave.
That moment my door shook its hinge,
Something had wrenched its knobs,
The bats beseech with a sudden screech,
And fill my home with sobs.
A pain of olden times deludes,
My grandsire died this day,
A tremor stirs after these years,
Benumbed and dozed I lay.
The dawn has worn her purple gown,
It's four, the chimes sojourn,
Her mellow light dissolves my night
Into a canny morn.
28th September, 2021
Categories:
mizzle, mystery,
Form:
Ballad
There are wild horses in the heather;
their neighing follows the wake
of hewing wind-wraiths.
The ponies are hardy and stout, they go
in and out of the clouds, slip through
swale and dingle.
The moors are high. You don't feel the altitude
only the depth of the land. When the sky turns sullen
it tilts to smother the earth.
If the scything winds falter, the shallow sod
bogs into sumps and divots
Where trees cannot be, clouds spread
a muffling mizzle over gorse and grass,
a grazing tide carries a spume of chills.
The hills here are thigh deep, rills of dark water
loiter and seep.
The small ponies shake their matted manes,
mist-sprays pool in muddy hoofprints,
the warm brume of their snorts
leads you onward on a lonesome track
for they alone know the steps taken
to cross over each dim acres edge.
Travel with them to a gritstone ledge,
where the heath plunges dale deep,
there above the tall treetops
a bright sky will rise up to meet you.
Categories:
mizzle, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Daybreak dangled in foggy strips.
Mizzle had mugged the day,
grey-flecked cuckoo spit
smuggled summer under hoary roots.
Bill formed an Indian gang
to snatch the light back.
Later, parting the scalp of a hedge
we saw the sun
tangled in an old hawthorn.
Meg, (Bill’s sister),
wanted to shin-up and dislodge it.
There was a chance
we would see her knickers
so we gave her a leg-up.
Her skinny limbs
snaked through the spiky twigs.
Half-way to the top
the sun cut loose, drifting
beyond her reach.
Meg whooped and almost fell.
We boys grinned as her bare legs
slide down onto our shoulders.
Bill looked at us
as if we were all crazy.
Categories:
mizzle, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
The rain - when it comes;
It brings out the poet in me!
Bathing peaches and garden plums,
Tapping the leaves in the backyard tree!
The Mizzle and mist, the drizzle and fog
Sodden the silent, lonely log.
The Rolling beads to droplets turn,
And dampen all: the flowers and fern.
The heavens, grey and dun-brown earth
Embraced, let loose a blissful whiff;
By hymn of fall from this soulful script-
The grasslands rejoice and hail: "Rebirth!
Kids ran into puddles and splashed;
Workers hid while Slum-ladies washed.
Some scoffed snacks, some sipped stew;
Duos came closer over steaming brew!
The rain - when it pours
It brings out the lover in me!
the Overwhelming heart and passionate soul-
From constrained chains is loosened free!
The subtle kiss of breezy air
I wonder touched the one I care?
Patter-spatter downpour on dirt; why
Drenched the lot yet not my heart!
The downpour-it's water, showers love
With its life-giving, transforming touch
With Blossoms bloomed the bosom too;
The ticking clocks now seem to glitch!
Dribbling rain and lightening mild
Igniting an unheeded fire wild
Lost in dreams of intoxicating trickles
Till it bubbles, boils; then brims and Sizzles!
An aching absence amidst the rain
Renders all nature's beauty in vain
To quench the soul, the waters failed!
That can only be quenched by you,"love-ale!"
--end--
Categories:
mizzle, love, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
When I look at the charred plasma
of a bare knuckled wind
I forget the ardor of yellow.
Then I recall the smeared tones
of skunk cabbage
rising through haze and mizzle,
or how in the Far East
the river at sunset
transforms a blistered heat
into the stippled gold of temple lamps.
After the grey scuttle of urban hours
there’s a yellowed drizzle
of twilight in any city
when a chill brume of evaporation
hangs gleaming and electric.
I see the mottled leaf of autumn
how gold seeps through
its flamboyant carnage.
Far away from the ruby panic
of fledgling mouths
or the crimsoned wounds of orchids,
I seek a tint, a gloaming yellow essence,
a sun-flowering at the of day.
Categories:
mizzle, poetry,
Form:
Free verse