Weather Poems

Popular Weather Poems
We Refugees
by Benjamin Zephaniah

I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.

I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.


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What Weather
by Angela Fletcher

The leaves are blowing away
Up, up, and away they go.
Swish, swoosh, they go.
Like a dancing ballerina
Up, up and away they go
Way up , in the sky.

The trees standing there,
Their branches all bare.
The wind whistling throughout empty branches,

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Without You
by Adrian Henri

Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,

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The Mayor Of Gary
by Carl Sandburg

I asked the mayor of Gary about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week.
And the mayor of Gary answered more workmen steal time on the job in Gary than any other place in the United States.
"Go into the plants and you will see men sitting around doing nothing--machinery does everything," said the mayor of Gary when I asked him about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week.
And he wore cool cream pants, the Mayor of Gary, and white shoes, and a barber had fixed him up with a shampoo and a shave and he was east and imperturbable though the government weather bureau thermometer said 96 and children were soaking their heads at bubbling fountains on the street corners.
And I said good-bye to the Mayor of Gary and I went out from the city hall and turned the corner into Broadway.
And I saw workmen wearing leather shoes scruffed with fire and cinders, and pitted with little holes from running molten steel,
And some had bunches of specialized muscles around their shoulder blades hard as pig iron, muscles of their forearms were sheet steel and they looked to me like men who had been somewhere.

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Joy
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

My heart is like a little bird
That sits and sings for very gladness.
Sorrow is some forgotten word,
And so, except in rhyme, is sadness.

The world is very fair to me ā€“
Such azure skies, such golden weather,
Iā€™m like a long caged bird set free,
My heart is lighter than a feather.


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Recent Weather Poems
Grey
by Kate Coleman

Today the world is grey. Every cloud, every window, every room. The same dull melancholy tones.

On days like today, its hard not to feel grey too.

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Rain
by Aryan Bhardwaj

The rain did some partiality
In some states was kind,
and in some was cruelty.
some got the worst drought-hit
and some were provided the deluge.
some people yearned for the drop,
and some were provided an amount huge.
The rainfall going down
even the rainforest got hit,
in people's minds, the reason still isn't fit.

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Sky
by J. E. Hardman

where are you? do i know you?
have we met? what's your name?
were you the one drinking soju?
were you and i being untame?

i think of you when i see the sky
a gentle reminder of your existence
i want to try, but i don't want to pry
what do i do? make this make sense


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Exposed to Rain...
by Fariha Farid

Watch the sky stumble.
As the clouds bundle,
Let them all fumble.
For such ignorant blunder.

Just a little rumble.
Jolting a crackle.
And it'll all crumble.
The water pringles-(to tingle persistently or annoyingly).


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Fever
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

desert blooms at noon
days of drought in the deep south
when love first ignites

a summer heat wave
quickly melting ice cream cones
wild activity

the long torrid nights
a profuse early blooming

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