*WHISPERS OF THE WIND
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
fiery skies ablaze
sunset's final, fleeting glance
day's last, burning breath
whispers of the wind
through the trees, a gentle voice
a gentle goodnight
Winds of honest scented
insistence glided my wings
through life’s many dramas.
Raw breezes fragrantly
touched my unsure skin
with soothing perfumes
promising my faith was
not errantly consumed.
I thought, go until I had it,
not go until the path quit
without signs I had tried.
I imagined a target
future sat for my eventual,
precisely aimed, bullseye.
That’s a notion I did covet,
even leaned it towards perfect.
Seems serene will never arrive.
If wind’s cologne were bottled,
a sachet of peace would waft
through all fray as life aligned.
The wind carries your name today—
whispers it through my ribs,
fills the hollow
where breath once flowed.
Is this you
riding the morning currents,
or just my chest
mistaking echo for arrival?
From distant shores
starlings lift and scatter,
their wings dark against the sky.
You ask why warmth abandons my skin?
Love is water leaving the body—
drop by drop
until only the vessel
remembers fullness.
Who opens their lungs before lightning strikes?
Who breathes deep
into a storm's eye
and expects to stay whole?
Your presence moves through smaller beauties
the way wind bends wheat—
everything golden,
everything changed.
My exhale trembles,
tastes your name
on its way to the waiting sky.
In these paradise winds,
between my last breath
and the horizon's quiet answer,
I almost catch you, almost become
the space where air learns touch.
The candle trembles in the draft
shadows stretching like whispered secrets.
A single heartbeat fractures the dark
and stars lean closer to listen.
Even the silence carries it still:
we once had our light.
Listen to the wind as it shares its journey
from Puget Sound to Alderny.
It brings the sound of whispering woods
and beauties in their knitted hoods.
Who and what the blowing brings,
all is told with wings and rings.
Listen to the wind as it leaves its home
and winds its way to freedom roam.
Bones of broken mysteries
buried away in fading histories.
Never heard outside one’s tribe,
as all the bad we try to hide.
Listen to the wind as it sings its song
of good and righteous, evil and wrong.
It makes its way from here to yon
without a care for now or anon.
Objective in its path from here
and now, to nearly there.
Listen to the wind.
weird
invisible ink
noticeable when nonstationary
directionally duplicitous
a wisp of wind begins
so crisp, a winter's wind
it briskly blows but thrills the nose
the wind, the wind, the wind, it blows
a wisp of wind descends
so crisp, again, again
it ever flows and never slows
the wind, the wind, the wind, it blows
a wisp of wind will bend
so crisp, a welcome friend
it lightly blows and tickles toes
the wind, the wind, the wind, it blows
I wonder where the wind goes
To be alone
To listen
To the whispers
Of idle leaves
Eavesdrop on the
Ripples of the pond
Succumb to the silence
Of nature’s hum
Huddle in the shade
With un-tumbling tumbleweeds
Vagabonds sharing a story
In a dusty train yard
Listen to the wind outside your bedroom,
lying in the darkness of the night.
While the storm is raging in the shadows,
hear the cries of those who daily fight.
Seasons change within the midnight breezes.
Summer turns its colors into fall..
Soon the flowers dare the autumn freezes,
as you feel the coldness in it all.
Listen to the wind with your heart open.
You will hear a message ears cannot.
Long unwritten history will be spoken,
as truth is carried in language we forgot.
Living in a world of data breeches,
truth is something often you must doubt.
Close your eyes and listen to wind speeches.
The anger of the natural realm is out.
Nature is going through some changes.
We see this in the earthquakes, floods and rains.
Perhaps, a listen to the wise, old wind will secretly, somehow, explain.
"In fall, nature must rest for when they return in spring, to be at their best. " -quote by poet
The trees hear whispers in the wind begin
It's now time to surrender and let fall win
Slumber is upon them as they start to let go
To be strong and barren for blankets of snow
Branches relax as their leaves start to turn
Letting them fall knowing in spring they’ll return
Hummingbirds hover as they frantically feed
Fresh nectar for their migration trips a need
The wind whispers warnings as the days get shorter
When ready, he'll find his mate and will escort her
Goldfinches appear in their olive drab feathers
Working to secure their nests with twig tethers
Squirrels and chipmunks are scurrying about
Busy finding acorns as they sputter and spout
They listen to the wind as it whistles and whirls
And lifts fallen ground leaves in colorful swirls
Flowers hold on to their last blooming breaths
Before they all succumb to their fall deaths
Nature always listens to the wind's fall requests
"In silence, the wind shares it's most intimate secrets"--quote by poet.
Standing at the edge of a sandy shore
Looking out to sea as I listen to
Incessant cries of " Come to me, come to me;"
I watch the ebbing tide obey the beach wind.
Oh, I listen attentively to the wind!
In the wintertime, it roars to me..."Stay in!"
I hear it whisper it's tightly-held secrets
To trees; secrets it rather I keep to myself.
The autumn wind is music to my ears;
It ever so gently tinkles the wind chimes
Hanging above my head in the balcony.
My spirit dances with abandon to its song!
Knowing the fiercely blowing wind carries
Their wondrous songs far, nightingales and robins
Cheerfully tweet out their best at daybreak.
Birds do listen to the voices of the wind.
Pelicans migrating south at summer's end
Hear the whirling wind whisper..."Bon Voyage"
Out in nature, I love listening to the wind.
This is another night, deceiving myself
to be awake...blinded by the sight of
my own surreal wisp of a mellow dream
raking and turning into long reveries,
where something once pleasant is now so trite-
that Illusions of fresh morn quickly blacken
... snuffing whispers of a shadowy wind
slowly retracing its glide into my cries.
Every night, at the sight of darkened moonlight
purple lines of evening air heralds pain--
wind arriving from behind, hushed and still,
that I hide my face from such musky flavor,
carrying scents of our autumnal romps
and remind me of wind songs, play, soft cuddles
pressed in heavenly light, to whisper love
about you, young son high up now with blue stars:
And In his court are a thousand jewels
twinkling from afar with this soft wind cuddling
me in your arms to say, ' all is right, Mama.'
As the sun sets down beyond my sight,
while leaves turn from green to red
and all is dark save for the light
shining from stars overhead;
whose light now just barely shows.
The leaves that fall from the trees,
and all the while cold autumn wind blows
from the forests to the seas.
And as the wind now passes by,
whispering without a sound;
it carries the leaves up to the sky
and then they fall and hit the ground.
They lie there now where nothing grows
and as they lie they rot and freeze.
But all the while cold autumn wind blows
through the forests to the seas.
It has a voice as of its own,
this passing wind that is heard.
Blowing through trees all alone
it speaks it’s voice without a word.
Speaking more, the more it goes,
above the ground, through the trees
yet all the while the cold autumn wind blows
out of the forests to the seas.
Its voice speaks of all of time,
and now it speaks of great despair,
of terrible sorrow and hideous crime
from its long journeys everywhere.
Now it cries because it knows
the world is dying, so are the trees,
that's why cold autumn wind blows
from the forests to the seas.
can i feel your breeze? can i breathe your name forever? can you tickle the chimes for their giggles to make you known?
a series of questions, nothing bit to know. no one has ever stopped me for a series of friendliness, i fill up the void yet no one acknowledge the breath.
yet here i stand, begging for your presense to comb across my grains. this land i’m in is yearning for your touch. can’t you feel the life when your skin’s pressed against mine?
i revolve above and beneath the earth, i know i could love you, but i need to let breath be known. will you wait for me? despite what torment might destroy yoyr path?
your breath, what other life could you have but me? you’re all i have to need, my lungs. but then again you’re gone, your gracious abandon grazing my lips— as the taste of you has slipping through my fingers.
how dare you disappear from my grasp?
Written: September 6, 2025
**************
The wind does not knock—
it slips through the soul’s lattice,
a breathless envoy
from the hush between stars.
It strokes the cheek
such as a spirit reliving purity,
then fades away,
becoming simply a whisper
of a melody sewn into stillness.
My terms come apart
in the string of stems,
where faint words
weave between tufts of grass
that curl with hymns
that are lenient to say.
Birdsong flows
from lungs in rooms full of people—
a hymn to the untamed,
to the pain that hums
simply seeking to be felt.
Love, in its most genuine form,
surpasses the structure of cognition—
It resides in the root of air,
in the rhythm of the intangible.
No note is ever lost—
each tender tremble,
each faltering flight,
is archived in the breath
between dusk and dawn.
We save our dreams.
In the shaft of the Horizon,
in sparkles that linger
on the verge of entropy.
These are the germs of tomorrow
tumbling in the blood
of the eternity we dare to call.
Specific Types of Wind Poems
Definition | What is Wind in Poetry?
Poems Related to Wind
gust, air, gale, breeze, cyclone, blast, blow, whisk, whiff, flutter, breath, flurry, draft, typhoon, puff, tempest, whirlwind, wafting, draught, zephyr, chinook, mistral, notice, intimation, hint