Sheltering under a tree,
the three doggoes and me,
trying to remain dry,
as the rain falls from high.
.
Failing in this task,
in pale rainlight we bask,
spirits dampened just a tad;
I ignored the signs,
and, so, my bad.
What a lovely day
for a street par-tay,
celebrating seventy years of rain.
Where is the rain that they promised?
The Sun is now shining on me;
I wanted to get wet to the skin,
like the fishes that swim in the sea.
We went out walking,
and we got wet;
then, the Sun came out,
and, yet…
I had to cry out
(It was almost a shout,
into the sky)
‘Where is my Rainbow?”
It wasn’t there…
why?
Who likes to watch the rain cascade
for day upon days upon weeks?
Who is there out there
that a hint of Sunshine seeks?
I’ve been out today,
and what can I say?
Apart from, ‘Do we have enough dry towels?’
The rain had been,
and was on its way back,
the Sun shone briefly, somewhere,
and a Rainbow was birthed.
And I could see ‘both’ ends,
one in a field to my left,
one in a field, ahead, and to the right;
they were both, in one turn of the head,
within my sight.
But, which to chase,
and would there be gold to find,
the possibilities traversed my mind;
and, at that moment,
the Sun lost its view,
and the rain blew into my face,
and washed the rainbow away.
I stood there speechless,
there was nothing left,
to say.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #PoemForADayDecember, #poetry. #poem, #Rainbow, #Sun, Rain, weather
I sometimes wish
that Cold & Wet
had never met;
but, they did,
and still often keep in touch.
Cold is okay,
has things to say,
but you can deal with
Cold in a sensible way.
Wet is a nightmare,
gets inside your brain
before it all washes away
and flows off down the drain.
If you’d met Dry & Warm,
their cousins,
you’d like them much better;
but, here, shivering, and moist, on the brink,
it’s of Cold Colder & Wet Wetter
I am tending to think.
There was rain,
then sun,
but, rainbows, none.
I wrote a little poem about it,
this is the one.
“Rain is a four-letter word.”
I say that,
firstly, because it is,
but, secondly (and most importantly)
because I (and the doggoes)
were drenched this morning,
whilst upon our walk.
Soggy doggoes,
and a very damp me,
were not how
we wanted to be.
But, we have returned home,
and dried off,
as best we can –
now we are
two warming-up doggoes,
and a less soaking man.
It’s a lovely day
It’s a lovely day
for someone
but not me;
it’s raining on my head
and blowing a hooley;
I’m sure that I can see
that it’s a lovely day
for someone
but not me.
It’s a lovely day
somewhere
but not here;
It’s hailstorms, rain, and thunder
causing fear;
and I’m hearing in my ear,
that it’s a lovely day
somewhere
but not here.
Graeme Sandford 