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Category: Cloud Poetry

Why not send us your own cloud poetry? Remember to include your full name and where you live.

A sunset over Kiev, Ukraine.
June 6, 2026
by

From Vyacheslav Konoval

Vyacheslav Konoval is a poet from Kyiv, Ukraine. Many of his poems have been translated into Spanish, French, Italian and Polish but this is one he wrote in English for CAS members to enjoy.

Image: “A Sunset over Kiev, Ukraine” © Vera Uzhva

A dark blue cloud crawls across the sky

A dark blue cloud crawls across the sky,
It rains every day.
As if punishment is pouring from God.

Fluffy fresh caresses,
crowded street of
stockpiled ice fragments.

My body doesn’t obey
It seemed to be dozing,
limps tiredly in laziness.

© Vyacheslav Konoval

June 16, 2011
by

From Vladimir Zaitsev

Clouds

Immemorabel thoughts of the earth.
As sullen dragons slip down along the backs of sleeping volcanoes.
As night horsemen fly over the pointed peaks of forest castles.
As regal carpets sprawl at the feet of starry temples, and carry on their sails the chants of celestial cities.

© Vladimir Zaitsev

September 7, 2006
by

From Victoria Craven in Oxfordshire, UK:

rice

we have moments
when the sky comes closer
when we spot and feel the earth moving
faster like now as
she walks down the garden
her past-atmosphere is full
bare feet loving the wet grass
with no-one to ask…
what is she doing
she sits on the bench and
eats rice when we are alone
when we are alone

the beauty is bound
through peace amidst constant sound
she wears her hair down
it mornings her face
to whom it may concern,
please – just leave us in grey
for the morning
in the afternoon
with dull
please – return us to the sky
– to itself
under that yellow strip

April 3, 2009
by

From Victoria Bell

Gentle giants rolling through the sky
They pull at my desires
Make me want to shoot up in the air and fly so high

Tiny droplets of water creating such a beautiful sight Reflecting luminescence off the sun And scattering into a magnificent white

Fantastic shapes are strolling by
I see rabbits and princesses
Occurring way up high

Oh what I would give to be a cloud
To be lovely and puffy
To be oh so proud

Parading my beauty each and every day
Omitting wonder and awe
All along the way.

© Victoria Bell. 2009

November 13, 2007
by

From Val Nye.

Tunbridge Wells, Kent. UK.

CLOUDS
+++++++

THEY TUMBLE, THEY CRUMBLE
THEY MOVE SO SMOOTH
WITH AZURE BLUE
SHINING THROUGH
ABOVE THE BROOM-SWEPT SKY
AS JETS ZOOM BY
+
THEY SWAY,THEY SPLAY,
IN THEIR OWN WAY
WITH STREAKS AND PEAKS,
AND SUN SHINING THROUGH ,
WITH ETHEREAL HUE
+
COTTON WOOL CLOUDS OBSCURE THE VIEW
DISINTEGRATION THEN ENSUES.
THUNDERCLOUDS LOOM HIGH
LIKE A CARPET IN THE SKY
+
RED SKIES ABOUND
AS SUNSET GOES DOWN

© VAL NYE. 2007.

January 11, 2011
by

From Ursula Gressmann

Cloudsongs

Above me
on sunny days
cotton plugs
inconstant layer
crinkled
frail white lambs
grazing
on blue meadows
between
sky and earth
I am listening
to soft musik
of the cloudharp
and the sky
is presentig me a
pearl-coloured smile

* * *

White
dome shaped
cotton plugs above me
falling into pieces
cloudstreets
does appear
leading to the sky
miles above
I am building
a castle with towers
and windows
inconstantly
changeable
an eagle is carried by
the updraft of warm air
not any God
can live here
on these clouds
and later on
the corona of the moon
give light
bluish in dim light

* * *

The sky
covered with
closely packed
tufts of wadding
between them
hills wrapped
with a veil of mist
homeland from
eagle and
dragonflyer
without a voice
and clouds
make a row
time-lens
icecrystalization
glittering
during sunset

© Ursula Gressmann

November 3, 2006
by

From Tony Kendrick

Cloud Story.

Tumbling clouds in sunlight sky,
That’s a sight to watch go by.
Strange stories are revealed.

A lady flees from a dragon’s lair
All flying skirts and windblown hair.

Then!

Through the scene of filtered light,
Speeds her champion, a mighty knight,
Riding bold upon a creature strange.

Unnamed. Untold.

No sound of thundering hooves are heard,
No snap of flag or trumpet blare.
Only cloud shape and sunlight glare.

They clashed upon a flat topped cloud,
A rip of claw, a slash of sword;
A whorl of power to erupt in fury.

Cloud shaped legs and wings
All hurled in separate ways.

Now the scene is tranquil set,
Is that a pennant flying yet?
Now, blow wind!

Part the skies
Let me see where the lady flies
But the cloud curtain unriven stays
And holds the mystery of her ways.

© Tony Kendrick.

September 1, 2008
by

From Tom Lewis

weather poem

Saint Paul, Minnesota. U.S.

(spring weather report in the midwest, 4/2004)

Storm grey system
responds wolfishly
to our juicy subductive depression—

mares’ tails & question marks above,

wondering if the air’s
as rich and stimulating
over there, as here.

Only way to know
is to leave Spokane
and the Montana waste places,

to swift in skies over Rapid City
and the Missouri’s
bluffs, to our sweeter

climatic currents.

Then overflow
into volumes, high
as the mesosphere, that

stoop to kiss the Great Lakes
and the simple
rolls of land

that lie beyond.

© Tom Lewis. 2008.

August 20, 2007
by

From Timothy McNeal.

Alzey – Germany.


STARS AND CLOUDS

Humid masses, pink and gray,
rushing, vanish, stay awhile,
forming lumps, aim at begetting,
generating shapes of wonder.

Fable-children, night and day,
forever doomed to play, beguile,
wish to escape the spheric setting,
wanting myth and break asunder.

Full of despair they fight their way,
drifting along many a mile,
address the stars and turn to begging,
not knowing what and how to ponder.

So in their sphere they have to stay,
alone as well as in a pile,
there is no inter-spheric wedding,
stars high above, clouds way down yonder.

© Timothy McNeal. 2007.

May 28, 2009
by

From Tim Percivial

Oh Wonderful Clouds.

I look up into the sky,
And see the cirrus clouds so high,
The cumulus clouds making many shapes,
Such as dragons, lions and apes,
I also see the fog, like a bedsheet,
And the altostratus floating at 10,000 feet,
To me cloud spotting is a fantastic game,
Until a cumulonimbus brings the rain.

My cloud spotting is not spoilt by rain,
When I travel abroad in an aeroplane,
I look out of my window and stare,
At the clouds drifting calmly through the air,
We are above the nimbostratus thats below,
Bringing bad weather over heathrow,
I was well and truly wowed,
To see the wonderful, oh wonderful clouds.

© Tim Percivial. 2009.

June 25, 2008
by

From Thompson H. Everingham.

READING CLOUDS

At times I glance up at the sky
just to read the
clouds as they pass by
fiery red when day is done
or billowy white in midday sun
There are dark black
forms outlined with light.
That drift slowly by on
moonlit night.
perhaps a sunlit cloudbank forms
with dark gray sides
foretelling storms
Now That shape’s a house
That one’s a town’
Look! There’s a sailboat
harbor bound.
At times whole mountains
come in view.
There are ancient towns with castles too.
Clouds offer me a gallery
of misty forms and fantasy.
What’s more… they’re mine exclusively.
The cloud art of my mind.

© Thompson H. Everingham June 2008.

September 7, 2006
by

From Susan Sawyer in Wolfington, California, US:

Passing

Passing, passing˜our lives
like ships on blue horizon,
like clouds, like rain,
like something ephemeral, gauzy,
like thinnest cotton lace.
Momentary wisps streaking
past minutes, past days
disappearing.
like dreams, like pain.
Everything passes, everything,
this transient life
so fleeting
until awakening
until only heaven remains!

© Susan Sawyer

September 26, 2007
by

From Susan Orey.

New Delhi, India

Love And Clouds Are The Same

One moonlit night I thought of clouds
I waited long to see
the morning, but the sky that came
brought no clouds for me.

Only a cotton thread did blur
the edges of my fist;
But I am not yet strong enough
to worship distant mist.

An empty sky is safe because
nothingness can only stay.
When joy arrives in clouds I fear
they’ll fade, or glide away.

© Susan Orey 2007.

_________________________________________

January 6, 2010
by

From Susan Ellis

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

October 1, 2025
by

From Sue Shaw

Sue Shaw, member 55,742, sent us her poem ‘Yoda’ and a photograph she took that reminded her of the character.

Yoda
Yoda—very, very wise,
With pointed ears and bulbous eyes,
Watches from the summer skies,
And seeing him, I realize,
That every cloud’s a gift—a prize!
Clouds bring smiles, deep thoughts, some sighs…
With clouds, imagination flies!
Yoda knows…because he’s wise!

© Sue Shaw

A Cumulus elephant spotted over Geelong, Victoria, Australia.
August 3, 2024
by

From Sue Shaw

Sue Shaw, Member 55,742, is enjoying her membership of the Cloud Appreciation Society.  She told us she’s been travelling  lately and watching a lot of lumpy clouds and finding shapes and faces almost endlessly.  It inspired her to write the two poems below.  She says  they are “similar, but different— and are products of that shape finding”

Image:  A Cumulus elephant spotted over Geelong, Victoria, Australia spotted by Heather Prince

Clouds Change and Rearrange!

It can take a cloud but seconds
To change its shape or place…
To re-form from a castle
To a dragon or a face!

Why…with a lot of lumpy clouds
You can read a fairy tale.
By looking all across the sky
In a zig-zag sort of trail.

There’s a princess in a lovely gown
And the castle…her abode…
The alligator in the moat
The prince…but as a toad!

There’s a puppy and a kitten
And a flying bird or two…
A monster and a gremlin…
All in shades of white on blue!

You can create a story line
By reading what is there,
With just imagination
And ice crystals in the air!

To play ‘pretend’ is so much fun
With daydreams in your mind
When you relax and watch the clouds…
But be careful, for you’ll find

That if you wait, your cast will change,
And the players that you’ve got…
Will all drift off and fade away…
And you’ll need a brand new plot!

Faces?

There are faces in the clouds–
Monsters wrapped in stormy shrouds…
Or a laughing, pug nosed leprechaun,
Or someone with a top hat on!

An alligator–snout and eyes
A giant fish–a whale-sized prize!
Dogs and puppies, kittens, cats
Birds, a butterfly and bats!

Castles, towers…places where
Rapunzel might let down her hair!
Realistic or a fantasy…perhaps some fairy tales
Where dragons and white unicorns have golden horns and scales!

Just sit back on a cloud-rich day
And let your mind run wild
It doesn’t matter what your age–
A Senior, teen, or child….

When you’re in a laid back situation
With just a bit of imagination…
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!…
Are carved in the clouds of a summer sky!

© Sue Shaw

September 29, 2011
by

From Sue Shaw

Send In The Clouds
( Can be sung to ‘Modern Major General’
from ‘Pirates of Penzance’ by Gilbert & Sullivan)

I’ve seen
Dolphins, ladies underwear, a dragon and a vampire bat,
Cupid with his quiver, Abra’m Lincoln in his stovepipe hat,
Giant rabbits, puffin head,
A laughing man sat up in bed,
Pteranadon above the shed;
An owl and a pussycat.

Numbers, letters, symbols – all these hieroglyphs mean nought to me.
I see strange faces in the sky and creatures from mythology.
I’m not the only one to spy
An ironing board go flying by.
(And all these doodles in the sky
Have got their own taxonomy.)

The Queen feeding her corgis and a lady with a powder puff,

Neptune coming up for air, a muscle man who looks real tough,
A saucy lass sunbathing,
A Spitfire, a hare, a raven,
More wild creatures that need tamin’
And a stratosphere of other stuff.

Each day you’ll see another cloud; A camel or a pig in flight.
Make sure you photograph each one or folk will think you’re not ‘quite right’.
It really is addictive
And the walking keeps you fit, if
You don’t fall into a ditch or
Wrap your dog around a traffic light !

© Sue Shaw 2011

August 25, 2011
by

From Sue Shaw

If Clouds were Blue

If clouds were blue and the sky was white,
Would ‘Singin’ the Blues’ mean you’re ‘Feelin’ Alright’?
Would elderly ladies be the ‘White Rinse Brigade’?
And would ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ come in some other shade?

Would little white lies be Turquoise or Prussian?
Would vodka and Curacao make a White Russian?
Would brides get married in Navy or Teal
And would you blue-wash things
You wish to conceal?

Picasso’s white period would have been dull.
The ‘boys in magnolia’ wouldn’t have the same pull.
Blue milk in bottles? It just isn’t right
And think of those poor dwarves without their Snow White.

Chinese ceramicists took great pains to demonstrate
That blue and white glazes work well on your dinner plate.
Likewise, Mother Nature knew just what to do,
When she made the clouds white and the sky…… sky blue!

© Sue Shaw

July 5, 2011
by

From Sue Shaw

from Wooler, Northumberland

Set Your Sights High
or (You Cannot Be Cirrus!!)

I aspire to Asperatus,
‘Though my aim is Alto Stratus
And my Cumulo’s not as Nimbus as it was.
But my Circumzenithal Arc
Looks just as good, light or dark,
With my Kelvin-Helmholtz,
Fringed with Diamond Dust.

As my Auntie Crepuscular says
“Don’t chase Noctilucent rays!
Save your Glory
For the Horseshoe Vortex crowd.”
So I’ll stand up for my Incus
And ignore all blue-sky thinkers.
Come on Mammas!
Lift your heads up!!
And be proud!!!

© Sue Shaw

November 6, 2009
by

From Stephen Taylor-Matthews

Ode to Cloud Nine

Thunder a-comin’.
Skies gawn dark.
Where’d tha fluffy
Cumulus gow?
Winds a-gustin’ –
‘Ard.
You’se loomin’,
Hangin’ on yonda.

Won’ be long now.

Incredible vorh-ex.
Gigan’ic,
Terrible –
Cloud galaxy of
Atmospheric nebula.
As you lay quiet,
Broodin’ an’
Gatherin’ energies.

Won’ be long now.

Thump!
You hit roof.
A straturspheric
Punch.
Anvil like, you
Start to tritle –
Rain –
Belts it down.

Won’ be long now.

Bit nippy like,
Shivrin’.
You’se dominate;
Skye Marster,
Lord of clouds,
Number níne.
Tree’s is screamin’
Before you wake.

Won’ be long now.

Won’ be long
NOW!
Cack, crackle.
Heav’ns chime,
Valk-ries
Time for livin’.
You’se,
No,
WE’se alive!

Migh’y-number-níne
You ebb
An’ flow.
‘Lectric fingers
Kneadin’ grey dough.
You’se is almos’ spent.
Dissipate an’ i’ll watch.
Another’s growin’.
Cumulonimbus!

Won’ be long now.

© Stephen Taylor-Matthews

March 29, 2007
by

From Stephen Schaffhauser.

Contrails.

What would Howard

if, when towered

Cumuli

or Cirri flowered,

what would he have thought or written,

if, above the fields of Britain,

up on high,

and playful as an Ahrimanic kitten,

he had seen stretch right across the blue

contrails from aeroplanes? But never flew

aught but dragonfly

then,and birds and bats, and other insects too.

Or if Shelley

rising early

and raising eye

to his clouds of loved Italy,

had seen planes through a widened rent

in the broken woof of that wind built tent

(off to Dubai?)

leave contrails there where stratus never went?

Now that clouds are surrogated

the vault itself is violated.

Techno sky!

How can antidotes then be created?

Maybe only if we’re able

When round about swarm toil and trouble

like incubi

to create a blue bell bubble.

By this I mean an inner space.

Out there cruel prowls the Wolf of fearsome face

and dark, insistent cry.

Within, a Sun illumined, Sun warmed Samothrace.

© Stephen Schaffhauser.

March 8, 2011
by

From Stephen Casey

Whipped creams,
Or God’s dreams?
High above the ground,
Hovering without sound.
Soared only by planes,
Or extremely high cranes.
A source of wonder for the young,
From places far flung,
But united in their joy derived,
From this white blanket knived
By blue or black sections
Depending on the suns projections.
Providing rain, sleet and snow
To all those below
Along with delight
To all those in sight.

© Stephen Casey

June 4, 2013
by

From Spiggsy

With my old rod I am fishing, sitting waiting wishing;
That those watery folk below, were not my rig a’missing…

Maitland Sky © Spiggsy
January 29, 2013
by

From Spiggsy

What can we truly say?
To try encapsulate;
The marvel of the changing sky
With colours so divine?…

March 3, 2026
by

From Simon Rickman

Cloud enthusiast, Simon Rickman, sent us this Haiku and accompanying image.  Seeing everyday objects in clouds (and other objects) is called Pareidolia and he told us this picture is a good example of a head in the clouds.

Cloud Face

it is no wonder
they call me ‘the daydreamer’
my head’s in the clouds!

© Simon Rickman

October 7, 2024
by

From Simon Rickman

Simon Rickman, a cloud enthusiast, was inspired by our Cloud Poetry section to send us a Haiku he wrote a few years ago.  He also sent the featured photograph taken on 7th April 2023 near his home in the UK.

purposed clouds glide by
on missions to somewhere else
leaving me behind

© Simon Rickman

March 17, 2007
by

From Simon Reynolds

in Bath, UK.

Cloudspotting

We sat on the beach in a row of deckchairs,
tried to talk the clouds out of the sky
and into our notebooks.

We said they were the work of an idle god
who rag-rolled the sky between pipes.
Dirty white lint on hot blue sheets, just ironed.

The stuffing loved out of soft toys.
Whipped cream remnants on an unlicked bowl,
someone said, and it was time to eat.

As the sun fell we strolled back under a skyfull
of what you might call altocumulus undulatus.
We saw Shinto gravel gardens, raked by drunken monks.

© Simon Reynolds

September 7, 2006
by

From Simon Ellis in Hindley, UK

Wandering Lonely

The cloud that drifted by on the winter breeze
through a dead sky of pale white blue
has gone now

I remember standing and watching it float by
far overhead
as it changed shape and form heading for the horizon

It was a clear day
and I could see forever

or at least
I thought I could

I watched the cloud drift over patchwork fields
over subrural sprawls
over forests and roads
casting its multicellular shadow over the world below
as it slowly vanished
a victim of its own lightness
and transpiration

The world breathes out – lo, a cloud

The world breathes in – lo, ’tis gone

It seemed to vanish just in front of the sun
in a glorious sunburst
that was over before it began

After the demise of my cloud I went home
through dismal middle-class suburbs
to my dismal middle-class lodgings
and everything felt so peculiarly futile

Thank you for my cloud
whoever sent it

It was wonderful
while it lasted.

(2nd April 2001)

December 8, 2011
by

From Sheila Sansom

The Sky Painter

What wouldn’t I give to be ‘The Sky Painter’
My canvas as vast as the heavens.
My brush strokes commanding the weather.
Delicate washes
Extravagant oils.
A rainbow pallet exploding with joy.
What wouldn’t I give to be ‘The Sky Painter’

© Sheila Sansom

January 27, 2007
by

From Sheila Desmond

New York City, US.

Ever stood for a moment

Ever stood for a moment
looking up at the clouds
noticing their shapes
colors, movement
configurations
constantly shifting
relative locations
in space?
Ever stood for two moments
and wondered what it might
feel like to lie down
on some of those soft
cloud beds up there
taking time off from work
without having to notify
anyone, without having to care?
Ever stood for three moments
exhilirated
watching storm clouds
scatter in a hurricane wind
rooting for the weak one day
for the strong, the next:
which side are you on?
does it make a difference?
does it?
Ever stood for four moments
feeling dizzy
when perceptions decieve
and you start swaying
with skyscrapers
dancing to the music
of an invisible breeze
while the clouds seem to
stand still?
Ever stood for longer
much longer, staring
till clouds disappear
not the same ones, mind you,
but some other clouds
some other place: ever
stop contemplating
and just savored
escape?

© Sheila Desmond

November 3, 2006
by

From Sheila Desmond.

New York City.

”Ever stood for a moment”

Ever stood for a moment
looking up at the clouds
noticing their shapes
colors, movement
configurations
constantly shifting
relative locations
in space?
Ever stood for two moments
and wondered what it might
feel like to lie down
on some of those soft
cloud beds up there
taking time off from work
without having to notify
anyone, without having to care?
Ever stood for three moments
exhilirated
watching storm clouds
scatter in a hurricane wind
rooting for the weak one day
for the strong, the next:
which side are you on?
does it make a difference?
does it?
Ever stood for four moments
feeling dizzy
when perceptions decieve
and you start swaying
with skyscrapers
dancing to the music
of an invisible breeze
while the clouds seem to
stand still?
Ever stood for longer
much longer, staring
till clouds disappear
not the same ones, mind you,
but some other clouds
some other place: ever
stop contemplating
and just savored
escape?

© Sheila Desmond.