As I sat composing poetry
On a windswept afternoon
In the garden.
I heard all the windchimes
Sounding out of tune.
And then came the rain
To mock me
And my poetry.
Out of Tune
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Tag Archives: weather poem
When it Rains
When it rains
I try not to complain
For in the drought
Flowers die out
And we all need
To feed on the rain.
At the Edge of Town
At the edge of town
All sound is drowned
By the wind and rain.
The Roman came
And wrote Rome’s name
Here in Britain.
Now I hear the same
Wind and rain.
I Am Alive
I am alive and thrive.
While the wind
Like a living thing
Gusts. Blowing leaves and dust.
Sometimes I Wish the Rain
Sometimes I wish the rain
Would not cease.
It quiets my heated brain.
But the rain
Will cease. And I yearn for the peace
Of the steady drip, drip, drip of rain
To return again
And cool my heated brain.
From My Archives: “A Storm is Coming, they Said”
Rainbow
On a late March day
The spring hides away.
The sun may come
Interspersed with cold rain.
Perhaps I should go
In search of a rainbow
For I am told
That rainbows lead to gold.
I doubt tis so
But a rainbow
In a poor poet’s heart
Is surely art
And worth more than gold.
Fragility
I heard children at play
On a spring day.
Their voices full of pleasure
In sunny weather.
The ice cream van came,
Then the wild wind
And the rain
Came and shook the glass
In my window frames
And reminded me
Of man’s fragility.
Wet Grass
December has become January.
Alas last summer’s grass
Is a quagmire.
We all desire
The spring to come
But the grass
On which I stood
Remains as mud.
K Morris - Poet 