"It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring:": poems about rain

from Google Images

 

CINQUAIN

The rain

falls silently.

For one who likes to hear

the sound, the puddle's ripples must

suffice.

~~

 

HAIKU

robin

drinking from the birdbath

during the rain

~~

 

the skies

of the approaching front

holding two inches of water

~~

 

raining

but bushes are ice-covered

this late=fall morning

~~

 

CINQUAIN SEQUENCE - WCDH/'13

Coffee,

pen and journal,

a metal rocking chair

under the deck roof--and rain. Thank

you, Muse.

 

Speaking

of Erato,

I bask in this mountain

venue. The rain intensifies.

My thanks.

 

~~

~~

c 2015 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press

 



Through the years: poems about Billy

                   

 Billy's high school graduation, 2008 (proof paid for)

voluntarily
the child dons gloves
blackberry winter

finally brave enough
to run through April showers
         ... delighted toddler

child's solution:
cleaning room with his left hand,
bouncing ball with right

school not over yet--
youngster already planning
our summer

child's paint water
disappearing
into brown carpet

chewing his nails
young swimmer hesitates
       dives from high board

child new to the church
placing himself at center
of angel chorus

not big enough
to play with little things
--the two-year-old

6th day of school--
teacher says "smart but ornery"
about my boy

sneaking diced pears
into the tuna salad--
he eats 3 sandwiches

under the oak--
child sketching neighborhood
for a school project*

four small goldfish
the 5-year-old's first pets
a gift from Grandpa

~~from Connecting Our Houses, 1997 (*this picture on the  front)

c 2015 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press




 

Ice - snow - thaw - more ice - more snow --more snow

2. 23. '15
shoes crunching
through ice pellets
that fell overnight
~~

seeing
the leaves
slowly disappear
snow!
snow!
~~

suet feeder
empty~~
latch frozen
~~

2. 24. '15
two squirrels
eating watery snow
from the birdbath
~~

snow
melting
in the birdbath
the island rock
reappears
~~

3. 4. '15
turning off Bizet
only to hear the howling
of sleet-driving wind

c 2015 Pat Laster dba lovepat press

WINTER POEMS -- Fletcher, Frost, Williams, Hardy

THE SKATERS
by John Gould Fletcher

To A. D. R.

Black swallows swooping or gliding
In a flurry of entangled loops and curves;
The skaters skim over the frozen river.
And the grinding click of their skates as they impinge upon the
     surface,
Is like the brushing together of thin wing-tips of silver.
#

BLIZZARD
by William Carlos Williams

Snow:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down--
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes--
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there--
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.
#
--from IMAGIST POETRY: AN ANTHOLOGY
edited by Bob Blaisdell, Dover Thrift Editions
1999
~ ~ ~ ~
A PATCH OF OLD SNOW
by Robert Frost

There's a patch of old snow in a corner,
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of the day I've forgotten--
If I ever read it.
#

from SNOW IN THE SUBURBS
by Thomas Hardy

A sparrow enters the tree
Whereupon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eyes.
And overturns him,
And near inturns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
#

--from WINTER POEMS selected by Barbara Rogasky,
Scholastic, 1995
~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~

Mid-February poems

no school tomorrow
ignoring dark and bedtime
he plays in the snow

a coating of ice
on yesterday's snow
his wet clothes still wet

backing down the hill
she couldn't get up
three inches of snow

snow's reflection
making it brighter inside ~
tricks with his yo-yo

[above poems written while Billy
 and I were living in Arkadelphia]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~

cautionary tale:
with enough ice
any shoe is a skate
[Found poem: from Dennis the Menace comic, '97]

an added whiteness
on the dandelion puff
after last night's frost
[Published, Muse of Fire]

c 2015, Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Snow: Richard Wilbur's poem, "Boy at the Window"

Boy at the Window
by Richard Wilbur

Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In the dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.

From Good Poems selected & Introduced by Garrison Keillor, 2002

Born in 1921, Richard Wilbur grew up in rural NJ, went to Amherst, bummed around the country (46 states) on freight trains & rode in a coal car over the Rockies and served in the army in the Italian campaign in WWII.

To my friends this Valentine's season: a sonnet

My brother Guy Couch's begonia

 

 A Sonnet to my Valentines

T  o celebrate this holiday, I’ll try

O  utlining, crafting English sonnet form.
 

M  y further, harder task will be to tie

Y  et other undertakings to it: warm
 

V  ernacular, like choc-o-late, plus rhyme

A  nd meter (dull iambic, some folks think).

L  a-bor-ious it may be, this winter. But,

E  ach word must serve to build and fill a chink.

N  eglectful, some folks overlook a “turn”

T  he sonnet needs. For now, I’ll turn to snow,

I  de-al during February. Spurn

N  ot cold; delight in its short visit! Oh,

E  lusive muse, Erato–– Valentine,

S  tay with us, love us––snow or not.   Be mine!

 

c 2015 Pat Laster dba lovepat press