The Cloud Appreciation Society » Cloud Poetry

Jeniferlee Tucker

Sheena — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 10:18:50 +0000

Topsham, Maine

Few

Few are the moments
that just
are;

when the sky shimmers
through velvet air,

when the heart of the universe
whispers,
and the field sways,

when the sun
is your soul,
and always was,

its warmth on closed eyelids -
the deep sleep
you’ve been missing
all your long, short life,

and a sigh
is a single white cloud,
drifting,
small and sweet.

From Annette Nasser

Sheena — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 09:39:09 +0000

from Fall River, MASSACHUSETTS USA

CLOUDS

I lay down on the lush, green grass
looking up at the celestial sky
watching clouds perform
as they go floating by.

The sky’s theater sets the stage
as clouds pass through
on their merry way
entertaining my eyes
with wispy surprise
as I journey from earth
on mystical tours of billowy dreams
and marshmallow delight.

A castle that trails a rabbit’s tail
attached to the wings of a butterfly,
a whale and a cat,
a baseball and bat take wing
as they shuttle on by.

A jungle safari with lions and bears
emerge from a cumulus cloud
migrating in motion
to imaginative notions
embraced in pillow-y shrouds

Rhapsodies in white
and the fairest of blue,
pre-nuptial visions of tufted preludes
and painting a picture
within the mind’s eye,
I watch clouds perform
as they softly float by.

Chris Mackie

Sheena — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 09:13:34 +0000

Out Of The Storm

Storm clouds blanket the sky
Dark and grey, they come rolling by
Rain thrashes down, stinging my face
It hits me head on as I pick up the pace

Unforgiving, I’m soaked to the bone
“Come on legs, carry me home”
A glimmer of hope, Sunrays shine bright
I walk out of the storm and skip into the light.

From Bernard Beard

Sheena — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 09:07:32 +0000

Cheshire, England

CLOUDS AND THE MOON

I’m outside tonight because I read
shooting stars may be overhead.

If there is a man in the moon
He should be pleased tonight
for a small white cloud
chased by a breeze
somersaulted over his head.

Following it, some wisps of cloud
trailed a veil across his face.
I felt that the moon was staring at me
but couldn’t make me out;
and then, as if to go to sleep,
it pulled a cloud-made blanket
over its head; but it soon peeped out.

The moon went on quite leisurely.
Opposing it, a bank of cloud
formed like a blue-grey hill.
Behind the moon a small round cloud
tried to be Sisyphus in disguise
and roll the moon to the top of the hill
but both were soon absorbed.

The dark cloud passed and the moon went on.
Then I saw a shooting star
spear into a branched grey cloud;
and wondered if Artemis had
taken over from The Man?

But I was cold, and it started to rain.
I left the moon and clouds to their fate;
and went to bed.

From Miki Byrne

Sheena — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 08:57:35 +0000

Gloucestershire, UK

Clouds

Air-brushed wisps to mackerel bellied speckles.
Drift windblown like the earths’ chiffon scarf.
They float in candy-cotton puffs or grey washrag streaks.
Bruised by storms. Thrown and twisted.
Cyclonic tubes suck skyward and bring death in twisted tendrils.

Free-form sculptures in balletic poses saunter across a blue stage
And ragged edges softly coil away.
Such are chameleon clouds that continuously change.
They die and reform in living moist beauty,
And are always fascinatingly there.

Morning Sky

Blue canvas of sky
Slashed by pink streaks,
Purple swathes.
Leading in the air-brushed
White feathers of cloud.
Changing second by second
As I watch.
Magical transformation
Painted by sunlight, shaded
By moisture. Displayed above
In an ever-moving panorama.
Wonderful ceiling of the world.
A transforming delight.
Natures abstract strokes
Laid gently upon the canvas
Of blue.

From Susan Ellis

Sheena — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 08:51:51 +0000

Field of Clouds

Like a carpet of soft feathers

They spread out under my feet

As I step into them my limbs are swallowed up,

I sink down into their billowy texture,

Something akin to cotton wool.

My skin is comforted at their touch

A sort of warmth is spread throughout my body.

As I tread carefully, and stealthily,

Through their multitude of white, and grey fluffiness,

I want to throw myself down,

And sink into their midst.

To be swallowed up and enveloped,

By their puffed up plumpness.

I marvel at this splendour before me,

I am amazed , I’m in awe, at this my field of clouds.

© Susan Ellis 5/1/2010

From Mark Peacock

Sheena — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 09:03:22 +0000

Life Without Passion is Unforgivable…

In the words of my Hero, ‘I’m like a bat-out-of-hell’…
My vacation’s back on due to fervent ground-swell!
I’ve been worried for weeks that I’d not see those clouds,
but my prayers have been answered by the wild, baying crowds.

People say I’m a moron for endorsing this struggle,
But clouds and my duties are tough things to juggle.
So when my chance shows it’s face, I’m not biding my time,
And I’m straight in that taxi with my partner-in-crime.

…and I don’t mean my wife of course, she’s still at home.
It’s my rich neighbour Bernard, and his Schnauzer, Jerome.
I don’t like being a postman, I get cold hands and the like.
But it does have its plusses such as this lovely strike!

This means I can wonder o’er hills and o’er dales.
Topping it off with a few fine cask ales.
I take photos all day, I never want to go back,
but I must or it’s likely they’ll give me the sack.

How can I get round this? I’m hatching a plan.
It involves Bernard of course, and some de-icer-laced ham.
I watch as he chews, like a mad, hungry cow.
…and when he’s gone we swap clothes, “BECAUSE I’M BERNARD NOW!”

© Mark J Peacock 2009

From Rebecca Charlotte Williams

Sheena — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 10:01:01 +0000

of Dubai, UAE

What is a Cloud?
A cloud is a fluffy white kitten on a soft blue blanket.
A cloud is a sail on a sailboat drifting through calm waters.
A cloud is a magical sheep flying in the sky.
Clouds are sun parasols shading us from the sun’s scolding rays.
They are eco-friendly cars that run on wind power.
Clouds are cotton candy from heaven’s fairgrounds.
A cloud is a teddy bear waiting to be cuddled.
Clouds are the jail keepers for the rain until they’re set free.

© Rebecca Charlotte Williams 2009

From Brenda Barnard

Sheena — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 09:40:40 +0000

East Midlands, U.K.

HAIKU – 2

the sky a thunderous
black – summer leaves tremble
in anticipation

upturned to the sun
flecks of white on brown leaves –
autumn has arrived

speeding panther clouds
leap across the wasteland of
a cerulean sky

the cloud – a tuft of
cotton wool lingering on
the sky’s fitted sheet

the encroaching night
turns the shepherd’s flock
from embers to ashes

sycamore leaves spoil
the patio – dropped litter
from tired trees

low clouds meander through
sad willow trees – branches
drooping in the mist

the dark housecoat of
night opens to show the silken
lingerie of dawn

the vapour trail – a length
of cotton trimming
unravels across the sky

shadows cross the
quiet roads – it’s the morning of
Remembrance Sunday

© Brenda Barnard 2009

From Mark Peacock

Sheena — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 09:36:09 +0000

Cold Heart

I wonder, did wife remember my lambswool sweater?
As we arrive, park our car, and release our Red Setter.
Then the clouds take my breath but my wife rolls her eyes,
She’s seen Lunesdale, the bakers, and their famous game pies.

The trip looks to be doomed as she licks both her lips.
…but I might have a plan involving ‘hot’ fish and chips!
I say “Pies are for tea, wife” and jump back in the car,
and coax her aboard with a Mars Delight bar.

We race to the chippy and I rush right inside,
with a grin on my face and a strange sense of pride.
As we gorge in the car, wife crows…”yours looks much nicer”.
But then hers is the one I’ve laced with de-icer!

Within minutes she’s gone as I’m spared from more cawing.
So I look to the clouds and begin a rough drawing.
Then the irony hits me, goodness, what a caper!
I’ve only gone and forgotten my paper.

© Mark Peacock 2009