Long Seasonsrain Poems
Long Seasonsrain Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasonsrain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasonsrain poems by poem length and keyword.
The sky has tuned an ominous gray,
the tops of trees begin to sway,
imitation white caps form
and mock the ocean ere the storm.
I watch the thistle feeder swing,
the finches golden cannot cling,
and now I hear the stormy wind,
feel goose bumps rise upon my skin.
The lake rushes like a river,
the birds en masse begin to quiver,
squirrels drape their tails upon their backs
await the rain and thunder's crack.
The world outside seems bled of hues,
stripped of all its reds and blues,
greens and browns seemed washed in gray,
and summer seems so far away.
The sky broadcasts a visual threat,
I watch and light a cigarette.
Soon great drops of rain pour down,
deafening, muffling every sound.
I burrow deeper in my bed
and try to shake the sense of dread.
Nature has the upper hand
on this piece of lake front land.
How'd I wind up in this place?
I miss the southern charm and grace,
I long for Spanish moss draped trees.
and hunger for the ocean's breeze.
Ah, well, I'm here, and here I'll stay,
and live to work another day,
The lake, once loved, resounds of death,
in sorrow, I can't catch my breath.
Melded with raindrops -
the juiceless earth fruited lusciously
and the roaring lightning pops -
the vehement clouds sparked abundantly.
From time of summer -
for the juvenility they long expected
over the awash field they bopped over -
alike the sweetness of wintry roses, the zestful aroma contrasted.
Here and there the lively music got wind of bongs -
when the rain waved by the wind so heavily
the splashy whispery voice sung like yuletide carols -
with roasted chicken along with champagne, savored blithely.
All of a sudden the sun peeped out in between,
reckoned alike to chance once upon the Kris-Kringle's camion
Over the sky it arced with orange violet yellow blue red indigo green,
glowed as if presents wrapped along with gleeful horizon.
The sky that outraged fell out the factual consequences,
Around the globe masses fantasied the season to be resurgence
Palsy-walsy rain was alike the snow flurry occurrences,
Jejune July was abided by the Holy Christ's renascence.
Something about eastern thunderstorms
All that electric summer heavy heat
The sudden weight of the air when the birds grew quiet and still
The big black slobbering dogs came up onto the porches
While quietly gathering behind the homes and groves of trees
The dark purple grey frowning skies, then the distant
Rolling rumbling began warm winds whipped and wailed
The willows bowed and twisted in a frenzied dance
Little girls ran out to join, kicking off their flip flops
Wrapping themselves in the wind carried honeysuckle scents
The thunder growled in a deep throated chant
As bright white light slashed the skies
Then the thunder rumbled again and again
Little girls squealed in horror and delight
Ran for their porches as the rain came down
Beating the ground in heavy silver sheets
And the wind roared with the rain
The thunder rumbled and growled
As they washed the heaviness in the air away
All that electric heavy heat
How soft the rain is falling
On the paper as I write,
Little teardrops fall from heaven
Tis the rain before the night.
And as night the wind is growing
Slow but surely growing cold,
Cold and colder, winter’s coming
As the naked trees foretold.
Here I stand on tears of heaven
Tears the diamonds on the grass,
How the world has changed and summer
Is a season come to pass.
Even autumn talks of leaving
Though I’ve begged him so to stay,
Soon his amber, woven carpets
And he too will go away.
As I walk the narrow footpath
Through the softly swaying trees,
And I touch their empty branches
Cold and colder than the breeze.
Yet when all has fled or withered
And I walk the path alone,
Step by step the winding footpath
when I walk all by my own.
Then my days will not be empty
I will count them each in turn,
Till that long awaited moment
When the winter will return.
Rain thunders on the roof,
Fall settles in to stay.
The wet season will last now
Until the early blossoms of May.
Rain can be depressing
With no sun in sight.
Time for birds to migrate south
And on their wings take flight.
If we are lucky, there will be snow
To break the monotony,
But sometimes it's only rain in winter,
I guess we'll just wait and see.
Of course there will be sunny days.
They'll be few and far between.
The rain we'll see a lot of though,
Much more than needs be seen.
Rain, it thunders on the roof,
As fall settles in to stay
And so the wet season has begun.
I count the days until May.
The sound of the cascading rain in the roof's rusty and old,
The whisper of the trees and the green leaves,
And the embracing arms of the season; soft and cold
Plus the beauty millions were deceived.
The serenading murmur of the throng and the cry of the wild
Signals the death of the sun and the birth of the tumultuos rain.
The laugh of the grey-haired man and the whimper of the child
Reminds me of the villains, great heroes had slain.
All these and more, the rain brings
Humane sorrow like that in the cold grave,
I hear the tunes of the winter goddess the birds sing,
Saying, "Mother Earth we have to save!"