Poems I've written about nature, weather, and seasons. |
Rain Rain, rain, wonât you stay? The sun will come another day. Come quench the thirst of trees and plants Tapping on the roof in a gentle dance. Rain, rain, wonât you stay? Youâve dyed the sky a lovely gray. Thunder and lightning make a show I really would hate for you to go. Rain, rain, wonât you stay? The sun will come another day Come feed the flowers and the trees And take their thirst away. Magic Skies Red and orange give the sun a goodnight kiss The moon rises from horizon to see what heâs missed The stars sparkle when I look at them And nightâs just about to begin. Dusted with glitter is the velvet sky When you look up to see the airplanes fly The day starts to fade Goes down a shade And all today is put away You feel the heat start to relax The blazing sun is tucked away to nap The moonâs a diamond The world is silent Just for a moment when The summer night grandly begins. Summer Nostalgia Those skies of pastel blue and white With memories forlorn They incite in me the deep nostalgia That makes my heart feel torn. When the sun set on the beach Turning the water gold How brilliant the world had seemed How colorful and bold. When I would run across the sand on scorching days And felt the salty water, cool like ice The world was a lucid, vivid place How beautiful, how nice. When I had pink-stained sunburned cheeks And put my summer sundress on When we grew lazy from the heat When life didnât feel so wrong. Now I have things to fret about And have no more perfect summer days Now my heart is filled with the nostalgia Of summertimes gone away. Deep Green Trees If a forest were just like the sea Instead of water, trees and leaves At its beginning itâs shallow and small Tiny trees not very tall Small grasses and patches of moss On them, mushrooms and flowers emboss With little squirrels and rabbits, chipmunks and larks Few venture past the forestâs start. Walk on, daring to explore The grounds blanketed with feuillemort The trees grow more like ugly witches Some dead and hollow, branches wicked Careful not to disturb the bushes rustling Or swat at the strange insects hovering. The canopy grows thick and dense And still you walk on, slightly tense⦠The soilâs made of decaying humus The air grows damp, misty and brumous You breathe in the scents of bark and moss And suddenly you feel quite lost Deep in the forest, murky and silent Where itâs eerily dark and deadly silent Until thereâs a crunching in the leaves⦠If the forest were just like the sea Allergies Just when the spring has sprung in color It feels like a lovely entrance for summer A treeâs leaves bud in all their splendor Allergies are such a bummer⦠Flowers Flowers are tied like bows onto trees Flowing like ribbons in a warm spring breeze They shoot up from the ground in spirited blossoms From the rare and astounding to the modest ones, common They give color to the mottled green and brown earth As they cast off the gray winter and give the spring birth In the shimmering sun they glisten and sway Flowers give springtime a resplendent bouquet. Ode To The Water Cycle Undeniable, reliable You are what makes our lives so full. Oh, without you where would we be With congested clouds and stagnant seas? Carrying on endlessly Without you, how boring it would seem! With no rushing, gushing rapid streams! Why, youâre simply rife Brimming with wildlife Micro plankton, hulking whales, Things with flippers, beaks, and scales Rainbow coral, slimy snails. And you let is all run seamlessly smooth Oh, where would we be without you? Where would we be without the rain? Snow, sleet, hail, things that precipitate You seem so beautiful, so complex, That in such an ode, I only bet, Iâve just gotten my feet wet. 27 Degrees Itâs 27 Farenheit out And forecasted for snow, Itâs ten in the morning But the snow has yet to show. You walk to class and in the halls You peer at every window But itâs ten thirty in the morning And the snow has yet to show. Bitter winds blow and thick gray clouds Block out the winter sun But itâs eleven in the morning And the snow has yet to come. The worldâs a blustering, frigid place Where nothing but late geese call But itâs eleven thirty And the snow has yet to fall. Finally, at twelve oâclock We crowd up at the window Finally, the snow is falling The dancing flakes make such a show! Rosy Cheeks In the winter when the streets are lined With crisp and stark white snow Your cheeks turn a rosy rubicund color As theyâre buffeted with winds of cold. In the spring when a jolly sun Wakes up from its winter dozing Your cheeks are peach with the utter joy From the symphony of your heartâs composing. In summertime when the blazing sun Gives your cheeks a warm incarnadine glows You spend hours upon in the verdant backyard Where oak trees tower and green grass grows. In the autumn when you wake up for school And stuff your brand-new locker You find yourself blushing over some new crush And looking and feeling so awkward. Rosy cheeks are always in season No matter circumstances or reason. Seasons The sun emerges from a rain light and steady Petals and pollen are natureâs confetti To celebrate a season so vivacious and bright With efflorescence wherever touches the light Chipper birds serenade, croon, and sing In the flourishing fascination of spring. In a sweltering heat like that of an oven Joyous memories shape by the dozen Where wasps and bees and mosquitos abound Makes a season with charm and charisma profound For in summer, you again are a child Free to be reckless, unbridled and wild. Browns, oranges, purples and pines Help you to savor the bits of sunshine That will fade into rarity in a month or two So autumn benevolently gives you A pallet of comfort in the hues of the leaves As they tumble and topple on a houseâs eaves. In a season sacredly white and austere With only soft crunching of footsteps to hear Come winds icy and stark, chilling you to the bone Winter seems unparalleled and alone In its beauty, severe and seeming eternal In a silent white world, asleep and hibernal. |