It could be any
of the many days there are;
but, it’s Wetfriddy.
It could be any
of the many days there are;
but, it’s Wetfriddy.
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.
LATELY
https://littlethings001.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/lately/
— Read on littlethings001.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/lately/
Have a read – it’s quite a thoughtful piece – G:)
There was rain,
then sun,
but, rainbows, none.
I wrote a little poem about it,
this is the one.
It’s dry for five minutes,
so what can I say?
Well, apart from the rain, the storms,
the hail, the thunder and lightning,
the frost, the mist, the drizzle –
and I wasn’t surprised
not to see you out
in the midst of the Cornish mizzle.
However, I must just say,
it’s really been
such a nice day.
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;
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,
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
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.