Wind Poems | Poemist

Popular Wind Poems

Life Is A Privilege

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose

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Bessie's Boil

by Robert William Service

Says I to my Missis: "Ba goom, lass! you've something I see, on your mind."
Says she: "You are right, Sam, I've something. It 'appens it's on me be'ind.
A Boil as 'ud make Job jealous. It 'urts me no end when I sit."
Says I: "Go to 'ospittel, Missis. They might 'ave to coot it a bit."
Says she: "I just 'ate to be showin' the part of me person it's at."
Says I: "Don't be fussy; them doctors see sights more 'orrid than that."

So Misses goes off togged up tasty, and there at the 'ospittel door
They tells 'er to see the 'ouse Doctor, 'oose office is Room Thirty-four.
So she 'unts up and down till she finds it, and knocks and a voice says: "Come in,"

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Out Of The Cradle Endlessly Rocking

by Walt Whitman

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,

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Two Sunsets

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife

That fills young hearts with mad desire,
He saw a sunset. Red and gold
The burning billows surged and rolled,
And upward tossed their caps of fire.

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Mandalay

by Rudyard Kipling

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

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Recent Wind Poems

Listen to the Wind

by Ghairo Daniels

“Wind, the continuous movement of Air is the link between all realms & dimensions carrying every form of communication from musical quarks to the sounds of silence”. Poet

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Wind, Angelic Air ! Beloved of my Sun sign
I listen to bellows pounding sea rock boulders
circling my spine in sharp dagger kisses divine
I listen to you penetrating my marrow
swirl icy chiming voice through mottled skin
pulling hair, fingering throat uncensored ….

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the winds message of serenity

by John Hughes

When the wind wants to sweep you off your feet onto a cloud and take you somewhere keep in the pines and forests and lay you down at trees in a circle where there’s a firepit and a lump of sticks and a guitar that never goes out of tune, with a clique of friends of all different personas, ones you would never get tired of and the wind is gliding into your back saying go, go, go.

Let it take you there

haiku : shaped : metamorphose

by Ghairo Daniels

haiku : metamorphose

stillpoint explodes, bang
dark waters earth fire wind all ~
petals unfurl, soar
_____________________
hiku
~~~~~~~~~
still
•

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wind and cloud

by John Hughes

With the moon as my compass
I watch the night clouds wheel overhead, they move and jive to the chord of the winds
I feel something shift in me, a feeling of moving in sync
And the pit in my body leaps to witness such a thing
As this is nature in its finest moment, it looks like they move back and forth unsurely
But the wind is strong and it seems to know where the clouds want to truly go
But I’m not the wind, I can’t tell the clouds to stay right where I want them
Oh I wish I could, I would watch them go to the horizon and then bring them back again
Damn the wind, they left as soon as they got here
In my next life I’ll be the wind and I’ll show the spiritualists how giving I can be

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wind and cloud pt 3

by John Hughes

I am the wind, criss crossing, zig zagging chill, almost passing through your bare bones
But its not my fault
I watch the people as I enter them, this time of year is not good for my mental health
Makes me angry, my exuberance and exhilarating chill clashes against unrequitting skin
They just don’t know how much I love to talk
I wish it were summer
Oh here’s another soul, fphewm
Oh he likes it, my dear friend are you a god?
It’s ok little wind, I like drinking in the cold
A deep breath and its exhilarating

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