Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Overcast



I see you in the day and in the night,
Blurred and obscure behind the veil,
You and me, we play hide and seek,
It’s a game of shadows we are indulged in,
A tiny ray filtered through the darkness,
A hole in the clouds with the falling sheets,
The teary sky tearing apart with fiery groans,
Flashes of light cutting through the expanse of black sponge,
My eyes roam for you, your absence so excruciating,
I bow down, below the grey sky,
A fight for you, a reason to go to war,
Just as the first drop falls, the start of a massive breakdown,
It’s not a happy moment, nor is it sorrowful,
It’s a mixed bag of emotions, just like the sky overcast.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Pitter Patter



Pitter patter,
Pitter patter,
There I fall to the ground,
A few drops at first,
And then a cloud burst,
Yeah, I am Earth bound.

Rumble groan,
Rumble groan,
They collide and bring darkness,
Few flashes,
Yet many clashes,
It’s a war succeeded by freshness.

Splish splash,
Splish splash,
Puddles dance with the feet,
Tiny footballers enter,
While their mother’s deter,
It’s time to beat the heat.

Whiz whoosh,
Whiz whoosh,
My friend blows me kisses,
Trees dance,
In the pressured trance,
As the wind just hisses.

Boom thud,
Boom thud,
The battle goes on,
The sun tries to shine,
Though the sky is now mine,
And someone is thus born.

Aww wow,
Aww wow,
He takes centre stage,
7 coming together,
Its new altogether,
Vivid it is and not dull beige.

Chirp chirp,
Chirp chirp,
Birds cry out loud,
I walk away,
As the trees minutely sway,
And my friends look at me- proud.

Sniff sniff,
Sniff sniff,
It’s the fragrance of wet soil,
Also the bacteria at work,
To give a cough, and a jerk,
Drinking water now needs a boil.

Brr brr,
Brr brr,
The wind whistles past,
It’s quite chilled,
Though you won’t get billed,
But it won’t as much last.

Yippee wooh,
Yippee wooh,
That’s the nutty author,
This nursery rhyme,
Is to sing with a chime,
And not to worry- bother.

Thwack slap,
Thwack slap,
The hand hits the cheek,
It’s the editor,
Who found the rhyme too bitter,
So now the poet’s running meek.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Croaky


Patter of the sheets on asphalt,
Under hazy skies,
Croak croak croak.


Written for Haiku Heights #274