My plant by the window is drooping;
Don’t know if it’s thirsty or cold.
In the mirror, my body is stooping,
More obvious as I grow old.
The radio needed replacing;
The static was driving us nuts.
The search for a couch I am facing
Needs testing with hips, backs and butts.
The snow that just fell was a dusting;
The weathermen got this one right.
To the new year I’m slowly adjusting,
To survive our political plight.
If we challenge ourselves with some rhyming
In an ABAB type of verse,
Then from out of despair we’ll start climbing;
For uplifting, you can do much worse.
We hear about the hurricane
But we are miles away.
My family won’t evacuate -
They think they’ll be okay.
There’s nothing we can do from here
Except to sit and wait
And hope their instincts prove them right
And that they’re not too late.
So many storms are not as bad
As weathermen predict,
So maybe Mother Nature has
Got everybody tricked.
All weathermen cried, "This just isn't fair,"
When groundhog refused to exit his lair
Because he had heard,
Up here is absurd
And face this weird world, he's too scared to dare.
Water’s wet, the yard’s not yet,
but I’ll bet the sprinkler’s set.
Right as rain, here goes again,
clouds containing deluge drains.
Car’s just clean, and man, I mean
they prance, preen, and soak the scene.
Wonder why weathermen weep?
----------
A short little form called the 'Alliterisen' - lots of variations, but the
rhyme pattern is aabbccd, and this one has 2 alliterations per line
and internal rhymes on a fixed length of 7 syllables. Frankly, I'm not sure
what I think about the 7th line after 3 couplets, but, whatever!
https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/alliterisen/
Squalls in the head, the weather of observation.
Dreadful matters that may erase edification.
Thus, every prognosis is begotten in that way.
To dwell on the bewildered during the day.
The visible image appends our worms.
Weathermen may warn of imminent storms.
I endow the dream that is unfolding now.
The serenity of a blemished realm vow.
Explore the world as if you were a bird in the sky.
Savoring every time utterly of one's life way
Take a leap of faith and release your fear.
While you're still living, you may mend in dear.
With the passage of time, healing will chime.
Too many tears squandered precious time.
Written: April 10, 2022
I'm dreamin' of a dry Christmas
just like ones I use to know
where weathermen announce, all use our bypass
where you may go, all clear of night's white snow
I'm a deamin' of a dry Christmas,
just like ones I've used to know,
where tree-tops glisten an children listen
to hear my Harley roar, just for show
I'm dreamin' of a dry Christmas,
where my loved ones expect me, to show,
Home, where my heart is, at our Sunday-Mass, you know...
Ho! Ho!
Packin' gifts like Santa Clause, swiftly as a bike will go
Where treetops, an my Sportster crome glessions
each piston hummin' to, never missin' its tone,
True symphony, as she roams, with clean air without emissions
Tis Christmas, an packin' gear, with my Lady, have gone on home
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Have a Merry Little Christmas
End of summer whistles through trees,
Like skylarks floating on the breeze
Staying awhile, a month or more,
Until winds come in howling roar
Blowing sleet, snow, and bitter freeze.
Summer temps creep down by degrees,
Despite extremely humid sprees
I recall September’s rainy tour,
End of summer.
Weathermen give no guarantee,
Weather-watchers won't disagree
June and July sudden downpours
Can alter the league’s baseball scores,
But football hurts from early freeze
End of summer.
The weathermen led me astray;
I canceled my plans for today.
Expecting some rain
I thought I’d refrain
From an outing an hour away.
Instead, there is sun in the sky
So the question I have to ask’s why
When they make their report
They may come up so short
Or, much worse, they might out and out lie.
We are fools if we always believe
What we hear, for the “facts” may deceive
And when Nature’s involved
Truth is rarely resolved
For she always has tricks up her sleeve.
The word is out – the snow will come,
The inches still in question.
Make sure you’ve stocked up all your shelves!
(Of course, just a suggestion.)
The hype’s begun; to ratchet fear
Some rules have been suspended
So you may neither shop nor park
In places you intended.
The weathermen repeat this news
At least six times an hour,
The only ones oblivious
Stuck in an ivory tower.
There’s not a lot to do but wait
To see if the prediction
Of what’s impending proves to be
A fact or merely fiction.
Here’s an observation that
You might consider funny –
If the weathermen predicted certain rain,
Many might be disappointed if
It turns out being sunny,
Though such disappointment
Goes against the grain.
For most welcome brighter days
To lift the spirits needing boosting
As opposed to those where clouds bring thoughts of gloom,
But for folks who lately feel
They’re better off indoors, just roosting,
There’s a preference
To stay inside the womb.
People eh... absolutely no accounting for them
Expect the unexpected, just like the weathermen
Predicting is impossible
Being right's questionable
Surprise is the norm, finding out how things end
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside in the winter cold?
Remember to wrap up, keep warm.
If you have a horse, keep it warm, be told!
Intentions, empathy for the needy, make it your norm,
greater now for the homeless, who think they're being bold.
Consider the wildlife, how they might suffer in a storm?
Future? Well if springtime is not fickle, colourfully gold!
Building hope for summer, the weathermen will us all inform.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eight Word Challenge sponsored by Robert HaigH
Winter Woes
There is snow and more snow and more on the way
As weathermen take over the networks today
There is a blizzard on the way
So the weathermen say
Excited to scare us today
The winds growl and whip
As we watch the snow blow and drift
Are those tombstones or our cars?
(Who wants to clear off the dead?)
Not me I will stay in my bed.
There is black ice tonight
Who are they trying to scare?
They warn drivers beware
Expect to flounder and flip
We scrape and brush and shovel again
The same the very next day
Oh winter woes
I think I froze my toes
Pat LeDuc
February 3, 2018
Well hello good people, it's me again
Your friendly dude with the limerick pen
A wee bit obsessed
Goofy at best
Almost as faithful as the local weathermen
Going to a wedding -
We will watch them tie the knot.
It’s nice to know that younger folk
Still give this thing a shot.
I’ll get myself all gussied up
(That word is proof I’m old),
Although I’m not the dress-up type
Most times, if truth be told.
The ceremony’s out of doors,
A garden the location
And then we’ll head inside to dine
And dance in celebration.
Originally weathermen
Predicted it would rain.
The sun decided otherwise,
The worries all in vain.
I’m sure it will be lovely
But the main thing that I think
Is, with all the preparation,
It’s all over in a blink.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.