Long Rainy day Poems
Long Rainy day Poems. Below are the most popular long Rainy day by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rainy day poems by poem length and keyword.
Lush stubby grass bends and sways
A perfect place to spend our day
Forever, it is spread, beneath our feet
Green carpet as far as the eye can see
Encompassing silence with its prickly touch
The sky so blue, with touch of gray
Appears to enjoy a game it plays
Gathering clouds that tease the sun
Who darts, and hides between each one
He sends a yellow ship that sails,
Upon a sea of flowering hills
We spread our blanket under the trees
And marvel at the fickle breeze
It takes a turn, from hot to warm
It soothes the brow, then cools us down,
We lunch with wine, French bread and cheese
Big apples, grapes, of red and green
We nap among the shady groves
Awakenend by the scent of rain
A run for cover beneath a bridge
We laugh like children, once again
And like ripples on a silent stream..
Dripping songs, and unuttered words
Sweet music is played.... new memories are heard
For Carol Brown's contest "Picnic Time"
Stormy Summer Day
Torrential downpours drown this summer day...
huge puddles forming, filled with tears of rain.
No sun or sky of blue...my heart gives way
to sadness while my mood reflects the pain
of how a gray and rainy day can bring
a sorrow from my heart to hurt anew.
Contagious is the dreariness that clings
when stormy days bring darkness into view
with solemn thoughts of sunshine gone...and, missing you.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: No. 475
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: August 6, 2018
~6th Place~
Premiere Contest: Summer Rain Storm
Sponsor: Dale Gregory Cozart
Judged: 07/09/2018
The form required is Spencerian Stanza, consisting of nine lines. The rhyme is ababbcbcc. The first eight lines must be written in iambic pentameter, and the ninth line must be written in iambic hexameter(12 syllables).
Rainy days and Mondays guide my journey
Looking for rich harvest in barren fields,
Disappointing me with grudging demeanor
For you my love have never lived there.
My morning awakens as if from a dream
Roaming still, to capture feelings of glee
Set free by your soul departing mournfully,
Looking meekly at what could have been.
Though the butterflies still roam our lawn
No longer do they invite forlorn dawn
To glisten rose-blossoms you left behind
Knowing they too have lost their charm.
Winds keep twirling remnants of fragrance
Hoping rich-scent will mimic your presence
Discarding sullen gloom of rainy day vibes,
Ignoring pessimism of despondent skies.
As I set out to write: together we belong,
Words I penned changed their meaning
Soon after a comma held me spellbound,
Shifting my verses to form a somber song.
February 21, 2018
Placed first in mid-January 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd:Rainy days and Mondays contest by Silent One
Rain, I adore, I impatiently wait for,
Like a wife awaits her husband from war.
Sloshing, splashing scintillating drops,
Soothing my skin with hopes
along with my smudged heart,
Rain, my first love, my sweetheart.
Laying on the gullible grass,
Staring at the sublime sky,
Thinking of life's dreams made of glass,
As the drops fall, lifting me to fly.
After the sky is clear,
Leaving the earthy smell
That to my heart is so dear.
Freesias, nasturtiums and bluebells.
The sun, masquerading behind creamy clouds,
Willows are not weeping, rain swept away their doubts.
Wisterias are waltzing with the wind,
Gardenias and Geraniums grinned.
What a joy it is to be a mortal!
Life, a mix of smiles, beauty and chortles.
An endearing dialogue silence imparts
Gushing to confer but reluctant to talk,
Much is said by the unspoken glance~
A loud message of quiescent hearts;
Awareness resounds from unaware,
Void blares~ something lives there,
Feelings inhabit space of emptiness
As spirits shape form of nothingness
And passion conveys sans language.
Love is a prompt, love is a response,
Tender and bashful, daring and bold,
Hazy fog of dawn, exuberance of lark,
Blind to a fault, yet it sees romance.
Love is delicate and love is almighty,
Love breaks-up and love so unites,
Goodbye of sunset, hello of sunrise,
Dusk of eventide and a moonlit night,
It’s a rainy day, it’s a ray of sunshine,
Love strums joy, yet, love sadly cries.
It’s waning autumn, it’s waxing spring,
It’s frost of snow, it’s summer’s breeze,
It’s rose blooming, parched falling leaf,
Love is blissfulness in anguish of grief,
A spent nightmare, a cherished dream;
Hugs when arrives, hugs when departs,
And even when it parts, it still holds on,
It’s the sound of now, echo of the past,
And it’s always close-by, even when afar.
February 24, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Irreconcilable Paradox
Seven years
I’ve tucked ‘em away
Seven years
Been hoarding it all
Seven years
For a rainy day
Seven years
Better get on the ball
Potting shed, potting shed
Gonna build me a potting shed
Potting shed, potting shed
Tears to the eyes of the newlywed
Potting shed, potting shed
Joy in the garden and all the beds
Potting shed, potting shed
Planting and potting, that’s what she said
A fool and his barns
In the back of my mind
A fool and his barn
Been storing too much
A fool and his barns
Lord’s words weren’t kind
A fool and his barns
His possessions a crutch
The one barn is full now
Seen this coming with dread
With all that I’ve hoarded
Need to build me that shed
Better keep this one smaller
Don’t build bigger, He said
Hope my life’s not required
See the dawn here instead
Don’t assume, and don’t presume
Just because you’re making room
Might be building your very own tomb
But springtime’s coming, get ready to bloom
Oh my heart, my heart, my heart I hold in my hand,
and I bring it to you, my love, on this rainy day I come;
where the wind takes my hair and I walk among the rows.
The quiet rows of headstones,
where our destiny was decided above;
there was no more time for us written.
Our love was but a moment in time and then our dreams died.
We thought we had forever,
now my tears are all I have to give;
and my heart, my heart is yours.
Love, if I fall along the way in life, will you take my hand?
Will you carry me along?
For, I know you dwell in heaven,
where the bluebirds sing.
And if I weep please just kiss my cheek with a raindrop,
yes, we thought we had forever, my true love;
and now I whisper, my heart is still yours.
_________________________
June 16, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/My Heart, My Heart Is Yours
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1086-047-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Standard Contest 138
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
It is that of the rain to which falls.
That of a winter wind to which blows.
It is of the rain drop to which started this day.
Not that of a sun shine but that of a doom day.
It is of something wet as it is a mist from that to have formed.
That of water from the ground to which that cloud had form.
There I lay, with a thought of you this day.
As the rain beat lightly on the roof top it runs this day.
You would think that far up, the rain drops would hit harder.
But it’s there with gentleness to which God watches its fall.
As the leaves turn color and it is of a winter fall.
It’s there; I’m curled in the sheets.
Wishing you was at my needs.
As it is with my heart to which reins for you.
That it’s there to which my heart sweats for you.
Touches of gentle kindness as you bring that of warmth about.
It’s there the drops fall as it moistens the ground.
A rein out from a howl inside, that with a growl for love.
It’s there I want to experience drops with you.
As the rain covers the windows on the down fall through.
Not of cold rain but that of a heat of passion with an explode.
That we rain in which is a sweat of wetness and an explode!
As we would take the day off and enjoy that of the rain he gave.
And make it that not of a rainy day but that of love droplets of spray.
Since World War II, I’ve traveled the world,
Seeing many countries both near and far.
I started in the States where my eyes were unfurled,
Being kept in pockets and in many a jar.
Right off the press, I started out crisp and new.
I was cut from the others and soon put into play.
After the War, I became one of the few
That were tossed in a jar for a rainy day.
Then, I was given to a very young boy.
It was his eighth birthday and he seemed so happy.
He got a wonderful car from a man named Roy.
It was his mother’s ill father, his dear old grandpappy.
When he opened up the card and saw me there,
He knew he was loved by someone so much.
Right away, he knew how to spend me, and where;
In a toy machine with lots of prizes and such.
He wrapped up the toy that he won on his own,
And had his parents help him address the letter.
When it got to his grandpappy, he opened it alone.
He was touched by the gift, and felt so much better.
Later that week, I was taken from the machine,
And the cashier noticed that I was very old.
He gave me to his son, who was only thirteen,
And this began my next journey, to be later told.
An Old Tree
Bails unlocking their way
From the soil of dystopia to the branches of sonnet.
Wind wavering and crossing mountains away
And I yet holding onto the branches un-cleft.
When clouds bring over ponder
I bet of green.
Birds hover and wonder
Of a rainy day, of a rainy scene.
Fields then overturn
I see humans cheering.
And the dancing daffodils bring so much fun
To them, to humans it is unwavering.
How constant I fear of losing these sights?
Maybe the root knows.
The green of me has reached its heights
Fearing of fall? Not now the bird hopes.
Fruits and leaves when they fall
Joy in children then arises.
Prancing and dancing trees and flowers stall
Just to match the bright glitter of their eyes.
I, an old tree knows all of wind
Yet was always amazed by what it brings
A friend or a fiend?
As its deceits the memories untwined.
The childhood twigs, jolly and green
For a touch of rain, they defer.
Handy of leaves and keen
For a touch of rain, they defer.
Twisted roots and soil so fresh
Unbuckled chucks and no boots.
Now such a mess
My roots.
Have I grown to be too stiff?
Can I not dance once again?
Would the children ever make their trip
Forgetting all of their pain?
The wind scorching in the fields
And then the dancing daffodils.
Across many hills
Across many mills.
Even behind the sun
Away from the sea.
Would the wind even just for fun
Ever reach me?
Just for a moment of passage
For the wood and bails.
Would the clouds ever pass my message?
Of an empty rain.