A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the year following, from August 2024 to August 2025.(provided I live that long, of course).
Thank you, Allan Charles. I've contested the Charlie Chaplin thing a couple of times, won once, if I remember correctly. But it's the kind of thing I try when bored and have nothing better to do - just doesn't seem to have happened lately.
A soft day
as the Irish have it
to describe those grey days
so natural to the British isles
when the cloud comes down to meet us
shrouded in gloom and dim light
with rain so fine
it falls not but inhabits the atmosphere
soaking nothing
but arraying our clothes
with the diamonds of tiny drops
held on the fibres
miniature pinpricks of moisture
and we swim in the mist
creatures of the silent world
coddled in chilly companionship
grateful for the veil
that hides our secrets.
A soft day indeed
and the mark that seals our souls
with talk of weather
as though anything but this gentle touch
could steal our hearts.
Line count: 23
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry Challenge 5, Week 6
Prompt: A rainy day.
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