“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.
The lights went out,
as we left Cornwall,
never to be lit again,
unless we returned to the land
of Cornish rain.
We sat in the café
and watched the rainbow guy;
when the rain had gone
the sun shone,
and we were warmed inside.
As much as we’d like to…
As much as we could…
As it’s raining so much,
I don’t think that we should.
There was a big storm they named Dennis,
Which made it quite hard to play tennis:
When blowing a gale,
With wind, rain and hail,
it resembled a street walk in Venice.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #limerick, #poetry. #poem, #StormDennis, #Storms, #Venice, Rain
I was out in all the weathers the other day, and this is the poem I wrote whilst the rain seeped into my head, and the cold infiltrated my body, blowing the cobwebs away.
My ears are cold,
my body old,
but, my heart is bold.
My limbs no longer tend to fold,
and my grip, on reality, has less of a hold;
my mind has veins
of purest gold;
but my groin… has mould,
which can be fatal,
or so I’m told.
One wet foot,
one dry one,
which one feels at home?
The rain fell
from sky
to leaf
to me,
as I walked
through
the woods.
When the rains subside,
they beg to go outside,
and we catch the moment.
Swiftly we walk
along country lanes,
and inhale the freshness
that lays all about –
buried, as it is,
under fallen leaves and twigs.
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