spooning atmosphere
dust off you, lilac
eyes with you again
and the water's tight
urges in your hair
rain's attaching
us cheek to cheek
we are the same
tears as flowers
forever
drops; though a
christened fall,
raincoat,
scented
song
I’m walking on sunshine,
slipping into the sparkling sea,
splashing the beach ball sun,
feeling warm and elated;
silk waters, as if in a womb
with plenty of room, coddle me.
dark waters, down deep;
the rays of the sun stroke my cheeks.
my feet dangle like jellyfish tentacles,
yet, as a human, I can become a raft,
drifting with the tides, tirelessly treading.
a ship comes along, another soul -
a stranger I might engage, but to kin,
I will release a wave, splash the sun
in their eyes, the ebb and flow of a
sunny kiss, and a rainstorm of bliss.
my fingertips like clouds, release
petrichor and plenipotentiary amusement.
a shark circles, in pretense; I sit
on a life preserver in the eddy;
I don’t want to come up for air.
Silver clouds descend with quiet grace,
?Cast their cool, grey shadows on the land,
?First drops fall find their resting place,
?On sun-baked earth, on thirsty land.
?
?Then from the soil a whisper starts to rise,
?Ancient scent no perfumer can name,
?Petrichor blooms beneath the skies,
?The earth and heaven reclaim their fame.
?
?Stones grow dark, the rivers start to sing,
?Roots drink deep what the heavens give,
?And in that smell, the memory of spring,
?Reminds all living things how good to live.
?
?Let the rain descend, clouds grow deep,
?Let the storm roll in, dark clouds sweep,
?Bring your coziness to my sleep
?For you are earth's most sacred keep.
?
Thunder spots we called them, don’t even ask me why,
they fell upon the sun-scorched pavement from the sky;
dislodged the dying lilac blossoms from the tree,
bounced upon the outstretched tongues of you and me.
I think they smelled like Mother's Sunday lunchtime roast,
or maybe it was disturbed rock pools at the coast;
but as they heavy fell and crushed an ant or two;
raindrops declared the summer’s end for me and you.
Written: January 19, 2026, for contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud
**************
Rain falls, a gentle grace, a calming sigh,
A velvety touch permeates the air and soul.
Into the woods, sniffing the damp knoll,
A fragrance stirs a hushed heart and the shy.
Mists and rain showers coat slopes and flow,
Past echoes and soft hints stir what slid away.
At night, flying ants buzz as gusts of wind sway,
Each gale holds the power to heal or to throw.
Petrichor is hope that you can breathe
a soft splatter of pitter-pats on your senses
as raindrops succumb to endless pleas
to break the drought and emit
the essence of a thousand flowers
sealed in parched soil, as scent capsules
bursting forth as aerosols, smelt by a nose,
caressed by drops of rain and tears of joy,
running down your face in shiny rivulets of relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sky drums, a million tiny echoes arguing with silence.
Raindrops hyphenate the sky's gray poem.
Drops land heavy, cold braille upon my bare skin.
Sidewalk exhales petrichor, wet earth and hot concrete mingling.
Pavement sweats oil rainbows, slick under my soles.
Gutters swallow the sky in greedy, gurgling gulps.
The weight of the storm slowly dissolves.
In its wake, the air remains thick with the scent of unfinished promises.
The Sky came to Light, tonight.
Rumbled quietly, its might, tonight.
Soon such Truth was spilling down in
twilight rivers - washing fresh the birds, the stones.
We muddy, ragged, self-wounding Liars drowning.
Twilight rivers, taking hold by letting go.
In the newmade petrichor
we saw what we’d been before.
We each are truthsellers. We each are liars seeking Truth.
We are aging away from our birthright innocence, our youth.
Has the Sky ever lied to you?
To anyone?
Has the Earth ever offered falsity?
To anyone?
Can our breath, our step serve as Apology?
Can I be me, can you be you? Can we be true?
Caffeine vapor billows
blowing with the raindrops
the ceiling says
my body wanders
to a part of nowhere
glowing like a warm air
as if it were true
The reflection of the latte under the yellow light
the foam forms a crescent
like the curve of your smiling eyes
Petrichor tonight is so foreign
because only the gentle wind
between your body is familiar to me
I begin to enjoy the thunder
thundering beats
rhythmically
with the same beats
like an album cliché at my fingertips
jumping from time to time
Raindrops intertwined with nostalgia
melancholic rhythm
irony and romance
instantly combined
now flowing away
I'll run again at 20
If that's what you want
I can play in the rain on the asphalt
Without the soothing petrichor
If 20 minutes without your shadow ever existed
I'll cry my eyes out
Then laugh again
No longer able to use metaphors
In romantic stories
Sarcastic erases so much
Let's breathe a sigh of relief
We're no longer at the end of the road
But truly at the end
Not waving in a single word
Turning back into isolation
Something was changing one day—
I felt it when a cool breeze blew.
Restless branches danced and swayed
while the world around me grew silent.
With the first touches of rain
I smelled ozone in the air
and in a moment of glory raised my arms.
I embraced the moment as mine alone
but looked for the word to describe how I felt
like the electricity of new love when I was young.
Falling rain whispered through crowns of trees
and spelled a sweltering day
the weight of grief
with the touch of a storm.
O the years I’ve lost.
Lightning danced in dark skies-
I’ve witnesses this scene many times
at different stages in my life.
Thirsty ground took in
what the skies had to offer
so it could live again.
A couple laughed in the downpour
and ran hand-in-hand to their car
as if they were young.
The summer rains they came today
washing winter woes away
seems so long since they were here
welcome back old friend to near and dear
memories awakened from the sky
with the petrichor of years gone by
precipitating dreams of lazy days
illuminating sunbeams in a haze
which full-circle brought me back to you
and the fun things we used to do
walking on weekends in the park
looking like bookends on a bench after dark
sun-drenched rain-soaked anyhow
but where in the world are we now
Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)
"Stares upstairs..
Angels’ weeing above..
Be a good chap..
Show some love bruv..
Turn off the tap..
*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..
Parched sandbag phalanxes..
Ranks marching in flanks..
Arching across busted banks..
Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..
**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..
Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth
Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..
Mischief rashly unfurling…
Brashly whirling beneath.
Bawdry..tawdry thief...
******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..
Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..
Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..
Snooty..spiffy St Clair..
****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...
Whichever not whatever...
It totally sucks..
Planet forever in..
Fluvial flummoxed flux..
Tis rather lovely weather..
Though for Dunedin's ducks.."
The rustling sound of the leaves
The falling drizzle touching my face
The clouds talking in rumbles
Wonder why they are in such a haste
The pitter patter of the rain
Embracing me in its haze
The misty fog enclosing me
Maybe I am in a maze
Overwhelmed I fell on the ground
Eyes stinging, my heart in pain
The cold shower liberating me
The sky crying with me through the rain
Couldn't tell if it's been a second or an hour
Didn't know if I had driven too far
Fleeting memories all tinged sour
The only comfort was the petrichor
The clouds scattered, the rays shined
The dark unveiled a golden fine line
The birds chirping, the rainbow in sight
Maybe it's just a matter of time...
In the hot, dry summer, there is little doubt
that there often can be severe periods of drought.
All across the dusty terrain
the earth seems to cry out for rain.
People exclaim with disbelief
about the high heat and pray for relief.
When the rain does come and falls upon the ground,
one can hear, feel, taste and see it all around;
and there's something else, something olfactory
that is not noticed as much but quite satisfactory.
A fragrance that is earthy, pleasant and sweet,
a sensory bonus borne of summer heat.
So, here is a word that you may not have known before:
the scent from rain on dry ground is called "petrichor".
And so to conclude and have everything summed,
you can all go to bed tonight, a little less stunned!
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