Tag Archives: weather

Grey upon Grey.

Grey upon grey,

the next layer,

even greyer,

than the one before,

a mixture twixt mizzle and mist,

with heighth, and width, and depth,

all eager to show… nothing,

to hide all,

and live for the moment

in total concealment,

avoiding avidly prying eyes

and random inquisitive glances.

“There are storms at sea!” said Stormzy.

“There are storms at sea!” said Stormzy;

and, wouldn’t you know it, he was right;

although, he had been saying this since the day he could talk,

morning, noon and night,

They called him the ‘Weather Messiah’,

and a lot of other names as well,

A wonderful fella,

but, a weather teller?

Oh, well, he might be,

you never can tell.

The breeze in the trees

The breeze in the trees,

accompanied by a chill

that was liable to freeze,

and stimulating rain showers,

made my heart go all a-flutter.

‘Pitter-patter!’ falls the rain.

‘Brrrr!’ goes my soul.

Whilst the wind whistles a

wailing, and a wassailing;

whilst whispering under it all,

‘Well, what do you think of all this, Wusses?’

It’s a lovely day – a song.

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


but not here;

It’s hailstorms, rain, and thunder

causing fear;

and I’m hearing in my ear,

that it’s a lovely day


but not here.

Out in the weather

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.

When the rains subside

When the rains subside

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.

The Cornish Mizzle

The Cornish Mizzle

In Cornwall, twixt the mist and drizzle,

which is something that’s called the Cornish Mizzle;

for, it’s when two like things do meld as one;

that they become a confladum.

In Transylvania, long ago,

there was a thing that joined, just so;

a twilight rising of the mist

known back then as the Transylvania Twist.

“Whatever happened to my Transylvania Twist? spoke Dracula.

Then, he hastened to add, “It is so sorely mist!”

Thus he spoke from his castle keep

when he deemed to arise from his daytime sleep.

Yet another rainy day haiku from the mind of one who has recently been rained down upon more than a Summer season should reasonably allow.

Yet another rainy day haiku from the mind of one who has recently been rained down upon more than a Summer season should reasonably allow.

Looking out windows,

seeing the pourtentous sky

relieving itself.

In the Garden Haiku (x2)

I’m in the Garden

I’m in the garden –
out between the rain showers –
sipping a cuppa.
The air is so fresh,
it’s like it has been watered
clean of all the yuck.

“It’s Puzzle Weather!”

“It’s Puzzle Weather!”

Here comes Tony,

Here comes Heather,

Here they come again;

it’s puzzle weather.

Every time it’s rains,

it’s always the same

here comes Tony,

here comes Heather;

“Have you got a game?

It’s puzzle weather!”