Weather Poem Quotes
Quotes tagged as "weather-poem"
Showing 1-2 of 2
“Stormy Sunday by Stewart Stafford
Coffee offsets the stormy Sunday,
Thundery fingers scratch the drum,
The coal-black sky stares unamused,
A dim rainbow stripe upon its back.
The understudy sun punches through,
Slamming into a house's white gable,
Blinding against the dark backdrop,
The shushing showers rage angrier.
Liquid beading on the window pane,
Translucent insects marching slipshod,
Weather duellists go back and forth,
A primal rolling flux rumbling on.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
Coffee offsets the stormy Sunday,
Thundery fingers scratch the drum,
The coal-black sky stares unamused,
A dim rainbow stripe upon its back.
The understudy sun punches through,
Slamming into a house's white gable,
Blinding against the dark backdrop,
The shushing showers rage angrier.
Liquid beading on the window pane,
Translucent insects marching slipshod,
Weather duellists go back and forth,
A primal rolling flux rumbling on.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
“God's Grand Weather Machine by Stewart Stafford
Some say: 'Send storm clouds back to sender;
Into God's omnipotent weather machine.'
Let them come, I say, and cleanse me,
Reborn for the second time as a teen.
Improvising with nature's gifted props;
Perspective in motion, despite the scene,
To go without sleep for fear of nightmares?
Insomniac strike - we're dreamers, not the dream.
Skies beyond our grasp caress down;
As raindrop punctuation marks careen,
Spin your watery partner on the floor,
Absent of weather critics venting spleen.
Thunderous applause greets our every move,
Hoping lightning's ovation strikes the forest trees.
We shuffle and shimmy as sky spray slicks steps,
Dancing to judges' scorecards of degrees.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
Some say: 'Send storm clouds back to sender;
Into God's omnipotent weather machine.'
Let them come, I say, and cleanse me,
Reborn for the second time as a teen.
Improvising with nature's gifted props;
Perspective in motion, despite the scene,
To go without sleep for fear of nightmares?
Insomniac strike - we're dreamers, not the dream.
Skies beyond our grasp caress down;
As raindrop punctuation marks careen,
Spin your watery partner on the floor,
Absent of weather critics venting spleen.
Thunderous applause greets our every move,
Hoping lightning's ovation strikes the forest trees.
We shuffle and shimmy as sky spray slicks steps,
Dancing to judges' scorecards of degrees.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
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