Tag Archives: poems about the weather

There is Deep Mud

There is deep mud

In the park again.

As I wade through flood

I sigh

And cudgel my poor brain

To explain

Why we poets romanticise

This thing called rain!

 

Poetry in Rain

Listening to rain

While reading poetry.

But why read poetry

When there is rain?

For there is poetry

In the rain.

 

 

Reading Clare

While listening to rain.

But why read Clare

For there

Is poetry in rain?

 

(The above is 2 versions of the same, maybe similar poem. The poem flows from me listening to the rain through my open bedroom window yesterday evening, while reading the poetry of John Clare).

After Death

I pass by graves

On a rain soaked day.

I know those below

Do not regret the wet.

 

 

I relish the fresh

Scents of this passing day

For after my death

I will know

No rain below.

The Thunder Spoke

The thunder spoke
And I awoke
To heavy rain.
I lay awake
Pondering on lakes
And climate change.

I took pleasure
In rainy weather
As a child
But this wild
Storm warns
Of change.

There is Part of the Park

There is part
Of the park
Mysterious and dark
Where wind sings
Always to me.
And I
Am free.

Wind and Rain

I heard the wind blow
Through this wood I love.
When I go
Wind will blow.
And rain pour,
Though I am no more.
Yet it comforts me so.

The Rain Falls Hard

Rain falls hard
In the churchyard.
But those below
Do not know.

On another day
Some other may,
Passing me by,
Think as I.

Conscious of the Wind

The wind sings
In the trees
As I,
Alone,
Pass by
Gravestone.

Or, on the busy thoroughfare,
Oft, he catches me unaware
With piles of fallen leaves
And great boughs brought low.
And then I know
That all must go.

Spa Wood

My friend, Henry took the below photograph in Spa Wood, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spa_Wood on 18 March.

The wood, which is only a few minutes walk from my home, has inspired many of my poems, including this one entitled “Rain”:

“The Rain
Patters amongst these leaves.
I listen again
And ascertain
That it’s the breeze
Midst these trees.
Yet it sounds the same
As rain.”

I was reminded of the above poem as the rain was (actually) falling as Henry and I strolled through Spa Wood.

(“Rain” can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX).

There Is Snow On The Lawn

A couple of weeks ago, I composed a poem entitled “December Snow”, which was subsequently read by me on Vancouver Co-Op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series.

Today I awoke to find the lawn covered in late December snow, so thought I would re-post my reading of the poem, http://www.coopradio.org/content/world-poetry-caf%C3%A9-120.

December Snow:

A typical, December day.
The sun has stopped
Away,
And the temperature has dropped.
The forecasters say
There may
Be snow.
I well remember the December
Snow.
And playing on frozen pond.
But oh, so long Ago!
And I shall grow
Old. and remember December
Snow.
We count the cost
Once things are lost.
And the foolish, wishing to sunbathe,
Pray for the coming heatwave.

https://kmorrispoet.com/2020/12/04/december-snow/