Long Rain Poems
Long Rain Poems. Below are the most popular long Rain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rain poems by poem length and keyword.
Like bouquet of wine
sensually alluring
like the smell of rain
an earthy whiff of wetness…
The sweet aroma of spring.
Love is all we need
love is all-encompassing
our hope, our worship
The salty breeze of the sea
The soothing shades of the trees.
I stroll down a trail
under canopy of trees
tranquil, sun-dappled,
the light uplifts my spirit
and the shadows soothe my soul.
The scent of flowers
strives to set my soul free from
the trials of life
persuading my forlorn heart,
Why do I in anguish weep?
~Contest: A Garland String of Tankas
~Sponsor: John Anderson.
There are days when disappointment throw me into darkness. Leaving me lost in doubts of
why do I write? But, there is a fire inside of me that wants out. So, I will always pen words.
I will pour out my tears and scars, my grief, my love of nature. I write poems, I enter many
contests. Sometimes my poems return to me in ashes, and I am broken, but not for long.
For I am strong, I will not break, will not bend, I know who I am.
I will find my words
let them pour out like red blood . . .
send them on bird wings
I reclaim what has been cast aside, for it is my treasure, my heart and soul, my reason for
breathing, so stand aside and watch me grow, watch me rise up like an eagle to touch
the hand of God. I will believe in me. My words, not AI fakes, and that makes me proud.
I love all the storms
the wind, rain, snow help me grow . . .
to believe in me
The bars are barricade,
Fears echoing in deep solitary,
Hold your ground in life's parade,
Hide in isolation for this is history.
My tender throbbing heart loves hope,
But she's packed and leaving down the slope,
No one is asking her to stay,
Not even the pope for her did pray.
I watch the streetlights flicker low,
While silent prayers refuse to grow,
The windows rattle with the rain,
And every night feels just the same.
If hope should ever turn around,
I'll meet her where the lost are found,
Till then I'll guard this fragile light,
And write her name into the night.
Warm weather comes on the cusp of winter
High green grasses borrow soil for the season
To fill in every inch of lands pervasiveness
Stretched fields of new born flowers
Hide by tall trees for a while blossoming
Sun dances in the sky of Spring
A picnic is the perfect thing to bring a smile
I pack up sandwiches and…..
Must not forget the misses
We bring our own ants in a cardboard box
On the chance there aren't enough out there
A white thick blanket is a necessity
Dark red wine to spill on it if things go right
A mischievous kiss placed by chance
After all we came to drink and play
There is the possibility of rain
We thank God for sandwiches and ants
For over hanging trees for our umbrella mysteries
High grasses will be our brake
If we should fall
In love or on the blanket by mistake
I never miss smelling the fragrance of the earth, Which arises from the dry soil after the first rain, My nose has been severely sensitive to this aroma since birth, I always get out to play and walk in the gentle rain, The smell washing away the dryness of the summer days, This scent is a remnant of the simple pleasures in my life, It evokes a strong sense of longing for my homeland always, And it reminds me of my childhood days of folk life, The earthy scent makes me feel calm and brings me pleasure, Is the sweet smell good for my mind and health, It elicits positive emotions for me like a treasure, The familiar pungent odour is my natural wealth, And it is deeply rooted in my traditional culture, Where the arrival of rain and its smell are felt as a sculpture.
Before the first dawn broke the night,
You knew my name, You held my frame.
You're not just a judge of cosmic might,
But my "Father"—the most tender name.
When footsteps stumble, weak and blind,
And shadows stretch across the floor,
It’s Your patient hand I find,
Guiding through the open door.
You do not count my deep regrets,
Nor turn away when I am weak.
Your grace remembers, love forgets,
Giving the peace my soul would seek.
Like a father holds his frightened child
Against the booming thunder and the heavy rain,
Your quiet voice, so calm and mild,
Whispers that I will rise again.
The grandest King, the Creator, the greatest Architect,
Who spun the stars and set the sea,
Yet stoops to love, shield, and protect—
A perfect Father, holding me.
That the sun will shine brightly
That the moon will only come during season
That the rain will only pour periodically
That the seasons will sees into exist
That the wind will blow up unexpectedly
That the seas will swallow the rivers
That the rivers will swallow the fountains
That the mountains will move
That it is not the end
That it is just the beginning
That there are things to come
That there are lessons to be learned
That there are tasks to be followed
That the dreams will come true
That knowledge will be powerful
That identity will be restored
That religion will take its place
That faith will be maintained
That tradition will be the source of your being
Fall cold rainy days
Crisp wet leaves
Twirling and waltzing
Flying and floating
Riding October desolate gusts
Retro tunes that resuscitate
Memories of young love
Echoes of how I love you
Deep in the heart
Awakened by the sound of
Walking through wet fallen leaves
Ever so close as one
Holding on tight
Isolated in a cold sullen world
Warm enraptured hearts
Under a shared umbrella
Alone together
Along a silent canal
Riddled by a multitude of raindrops
Anxious to seek shelter
Ever so content
Creating memories
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2026
Submitted on April 1, 2018 for contest LOVE POEM sponsored by HEIDI SANDS - RANKED 4TH
Dog Master
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Fifty dogs all different in size and shape
Impossible to tell the type of breed, mate
All the dogs have a discriptive and unique name
Irene, knows them all, for none are the same
…
Only Irene can handle and work this team of dogs
They trust and respect her in the paddock, bush and bogs
Their home in the bush a stone throw from the house
Made of tin, steel and hollow logs free of louse
…
Heading, gathering or pushing in the paddocks
In the yard, on the sheep's back, the dogs are no hicks
Commands yelled out amid the noisy barking
The dog master Irene gets the job done, she is king
…
The hounds on the hill get excited and start baying
The rousers stretch their leads in the air they spring
The horse all saddled, the men go forth with guns
Time for a Kangaroo hunt down by the creek run
…
The dogs search for sheep on the plains and hills
They gather, they drive never fearing the terrain or spills
In weather of heat, snow, cold winds or driving rain
They push the mob towards their master, Irene
…
The sheep yard-ed the dogs job is done
Head for home, horse, rider and dogs as one
All the dogs patted when the chains done up
Given a feed of kangaroo and water to warm-up
…
Snug in their kennels, worn out and asleep
Oblivious to the howling wind, cold and sleet
The dogs resting for their work is never done
As their master, Irene heads home on the run
When hard times rain down
on our loved ones; when trials
need to be endured-
they seem to come all at once.
Wouldn’t you agree?
I’d say this year I’ve been hit
not just with a flood -
but rather a tsunami.
First gray clouds gathered.
Then a huge wave rushed forth on
our sweet safety shore -
covering my family.
Oh how I deplore
my own painful conditions.
Others seem to have
burdens of the feeling kind.
Around me I see
those swallowed by tsunamis
not just of grief but
coupled with physical pain.
How aren’t those burdens
more than they can even bear?
One day I will know
the answers to my questions.
I’ll be where only
peace and joy flood over us