Long Rainfall Poems
Long Rainfall Poems. Below are the most popular long Rainfall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rainfall poems by poem length and keyword.
9-10-2025:
It’s like the scripture says,
First comes the fire,
Here to burn away the plagues.
Then comes the rapture,
Incoming,
Is this really the end of days?
By the blood of the sire,
Resurrection of the dead,
Never were you laid to waste.
Like a seed the sun inspired,
And despite treading through the mire,
I’ve been growing myself through your grace.
I’m a single handed choir,
Singing through the wire,
Belly aching and without breathing,
Red in the face.
Feet buried in my ways,
The mud reaching up to my waist,
I try not to dig myself out in haste.
9-10-2025 (2):
The vista cries,
But the views’ still beautiful,
Just watch as the paint falls.
Every artist knows that the strive always dies,
But we do what we gotta do while it lasts,
I know when I’m done,
That’s because the words will make me emotional.
When the vista cries,
A little inspiration dies.
The hues are off,
The grounds’ a little blue,
There’s no more hiding from the rainfall.
Happy accidents are just unintentional lies,
But the painting in the end is still beautiful,
Feels like all the efforts really paid off.
Another day I’ve smiled,
Feels like the efforts really paid off.
4-9-2025:
The darker days aren’t as gloomy,
But they still exist.
I’ve just been waiting on some thanks to give,
Something to be grateful for,
Praise is all I have left to give.
1-9-2025:
Tell them that you need them.
Tell them how you love them.
Tell them how every time you see them,
Your heart runs,
You smile so much among them.
Tell them you never want to leave them.
Haven’t smiled so much,
And I’ve smiled less from then.
The sober nights are gone,
But despite the drunk ones,
I haven’t really forgotten them.
The walnut clock keeps time across my king bed
telling of midnight approaching,
of the creepy fathoms romping...
they'll perturb my sleep, and paint nothing in red!
I spot myself getting caught in this rainfall so wild,
you're running towards me, but fog and raindrops
make you invisible, searching for you is useless;
ah, where and where we'll kiss again?
Your fragile image is too delicate to hold,
and it may shatter and transcend more pain!
Ah, when and where we'll kiss again?
You left an imprint of kisses on this pillow,
even the faded moonlight adds darkness to my misery;
I expected hours of pleasure, not of sorrow!
Ah, when and where we'll kiss again?
Become as real as light, don't remain an image of fantasy!
Ah, when and when we'll kiss again?
Any promise is wind-swept and lost in its roar;
can we trust anyone besides ourselves?
Ah, when and where we'll kiss again?
I'm anxious to caress you with these hands,
that are cold and empty unable to care for!
she sits under a weeping willow and sways
turns to the wind for advice and hears thunder
tunes in to rainfall lightening and her heartbeat
stumbles and stutters for she is one in suspense
valves in her mind leak blood sweat and tears
just a little rest she whispers as the branches
lash out and into a fragile veneer of composure
drenched and beaten she sucks up the message
swans sound their trumpets far in the distance
as if to brush over stark memories of disquiet
and naked to the core she gathers their rhythm
blends into a crescendo of mellow sound of music
petals drip into a restless lake of surface tension
but underneath her discomfort frogs croak as if
to cheer her on to join in a rhapsody of comfort
jingling jaybirds gurgle to the flow of wild waters
bang goes her tremble as a tree trunk succumbs
splashes hopeful resolve deep under her skin
beep chirps a starling who seeks cover and joy
her own voice finds solace and harvests a chime
drawn by the music she unfolds a few offshoots
strings an instrument to accompany the mood
once downcast and lonely searching for harmony
the harp is my stray heart and I’m tall as a willow
25th February 2021
My love garden remains unweeded,
Each planted flower slowly wilting.
A shadow spreads across my sunlight,
And a storm lingers without rainfall.
Sad teardrops fall from my broken heart,
No blood shed, yet my worlds fall apart.
Agony, sorrow, deep dejection—
Reflections in my shattered mirror.
My tear burns hot enough to bake bread,
Depression drapes a cloak on my head.
Love tortures like a lonely scarecrow,
Left to frighten birds in a rice field.
The bridge between our hearts lies broken,
Our love drifted with the tidal wave,
To an abyss filled with just sorrow,
Leaving my heart without tomorrow.
Rainfall from the heavens
Flashing lights on the horizon
Tapping drops from the skies on frilly rooftops
Whooshing splashes on leafy greens
Pit-a-pat...pit-a-pat...!, rhythmic sounds on rusty metals.
Grey sky with thin silver linings
Stretching abreast its surface with thundering blasts
Wavery but gentle on the earth
Deep letterings on sandy soils
Drenching flows on tree trunks.
Soothing and surreal, the chills feel
On such beautiful downpours at dusk in a little cottage in Meltham
Wrapped in thick clothings
Warmed by the idyllic glow from the fireplace
And sip after sip from my lofty cup, that stays
The zesty taste of my Yorkshire tea.
Relationship Rainbow (((((((
RED
Such colour may change shade as emotions change their course.
Love, Lust, and Anger depending on its source.
YELLOW
My Mornings are brighter, I always have a grinning smile on my face, and the sun always shines if we are both in the same place.
PINK
Rising warmth, my cheeks feel flushed, from the first ever time our hands together touched.
GREEN
It's a tricky colour for sure, as someone who has been a green-eyed monster many times before, the nature of us humans sometimes we can't ignore.
Reassure the other person they are who your heart beats for.
That is not all; Green means in time of health, and giving one another care as sickness knocks on the door
PURPLE
The calm before the storm, content and in a bubble. Combined with the colour blue , showing signs of violet trouble.
ORANGE
A blended family of our own, we unite a happy home, and with every year we stay together my love has only grown
BLUE
Comfort in silence, words need not be spoken, sometimes a person's presence and a listening ear help when feeling broken
Be not their solution, but A sheltering support. untangle the net that their thoughts are trapped in and caught
(((((((
Each colour of the rainbow guides our relationship, although a slippery slope with shades that vary and dimmer hopes. I know at the end and after rainfall awaits our pot of gold
Furious wind from the north hisses louder,
banging against the gaped mouth of a sky, drenched…
Haggard, the night wheezes with quack
of birds waylaid; a time of unruly rainfall
crashing once more: and the moon grows bald,
groaning a jumble of cracked acoustics:
On and on, the roar of sleet
pierces through lush trees
in a noise that grates far into the dark horizon,
an energy fierce like a woman scorned.
How she blares a war amidst a company of men,
flowers, and all in one driven ride
that her wild thrill rasps zooms ---
until on ninth hour
a slow-motion of rhythm flows,
while she pauses to croon a mellow tune
as if... in final taps of a wail,
nothing ever happened.
For Shadow Hamilton:The Noise Contest
Written 3/9/2017
hollering out to hollow nothing
playing with dead leaves and wanting to leave
smelling dull normalcy in the air and wishing for comparing contrasts
the sudden rainfall is the most fun happening of the day
throwing rocks in the ole lake and wishing for cherry lemonade
wanting to fish but fully tired of the growing boredom of that
my only two friends are on their summer vacations
mom and dad are both laid off
the struggle is real
we leave for gram's and gramp's house tomorrow morning
i pray quietly as the water flows gently
the butterflies do not let up
my stomach tells me so
i head back home to have a board meeting about solid bricks
when the meeting starts, i turn o the button of my imagination
where i land is on the greenest grass that makes me smile again
a loud batch of flatulence brings me back to reality
suddenly, my appetite reintroduces himself
the smell of roast beef and gravy, greens, mashed potatoes, honey butter biscuits, and apple cinnamon pie wakes up my nostrils
the good ole days are making a very limited, time strained visit
i better get myself together and ready for tomorrow i will need this fuel along with breakfast
Oh, how I’m longing to float to my death
Not e’er again heave sweet CO2 breaths
Each of us whirl with a dance all our own
Loosed by a mistral and heavenly-blown
All of our lives we’ve provisioned The One
Synthesized O2 with bright from the sun
Tasting the rainfall whene'er a cloud burst
Wetting our folds for the deep-rooted thirst
And now in the autumn endeavor the spring
Let loose our branches to dance and to sing
Trading our green for the shades of the sun
Zanzibar waits when our last waltz ... is done.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
How many tears must hope shed?
Is there no bread left for the hungry,
or cures bred for the sick?
Can hard work feed itself no more,
neither trust share its roots with truth,
with no water left to nurture either one?
Does love have none left for itself,
nor mercy favor fruits of friendship
as it once did?
Do rainbows reign no more after rain
nor doves fly following rainfall
with fresh saplings in their bills?
Has faith lost its will to live?
Will will lose itself to fear?
Would that God would strike it down
with one brush of His hand.
But this Would must submit to God.
World's hope may have fallen to embers,
but God's hope breathes flames of white,
for white knows the rainbow,
which signals water is growing the crops
that feed each fellow man.
Hope's origin is not with man,
but with God.
If hope is lost,
it is because this we have forgotten,
that hope lies in God's only Begotten Son