Down

A soft silhouette
Stung about an evening sky
It answers me truth
For who or what or why

The soft knowledge
Of an ancient past
Whose rain drop’s dip
And wonder’s last

Now amber against
The tired sun
Recognition never
Even completely won

The nomads
Of the endless air
Floating free
With out a care

As if,
To want of water
Entire sheets
Really can not falter

© Sarah Thompson 2010

Weightless Thoughts

Weightless as a bird in flight
My thoughts fly off in delight
Floating with the clouds

It’s a windy day
As I sit beneath a maple tree
On a hill above a town
I reach out with my thoughts to see

Soaring as an air balloon
Not caring if they’ll come back down soon
Floating with the clouds

No sadness
Can penetrate my spot
Calm temperature
Feeling rise as if they are hot

Safe and strong I’m not alone
Though no faces are those I know
Floating with the clouds

Weightless thoughts
Bring so many boundless dreams
For in life nothing is
Ever as it truly seems

Unless your with the clouds.

© Sarah Thompson 2010
age 16
LaGrange, Illinois, USA

To Touch a Cloud

No desire to meet one so,
because in the mind we truly know;
to touch ‘twould be an icy shock.
Let it linger that soft touch,
in the mind and nothing but.

© Sarah Gathergood

Tremendous as a great primordial beast, you darkly arched
Across the Summer sky, obliterating warmth and light
From all the valley of the Trent, that lay drought-parched
Beneath you, swathed in dread apocalyptic night.

No countenance you had, but with your mighty concave belly glowered
Forth in grimly rippling shades of sombre black and grey
Shot through with jagged lightning streaks that disempowered
With paralysing terror all who fell within your sway.

Your drifting tentacles of indigo swept earthwards to the fore
To seize a landscape doomed to feed your devastating mystery
Of fear, till in a thunderous trice your seething belly tore
Releasing bounteous shafts of rain, as you dissolved into prehistory.

© Sanderson Nossai de Gagemon.

10th September 2006,
re a storm cloud seen over the Trent Valley on 17th August 2006.

Its just white…

Is that all I can see up there?

Are clouds nothing but white in the air?

As I look and I see,
I smile with glee,

For a small bird has decided to target me…….

Its just white…

Is that all I can see up there?

Are clouds nothing but white in the air?

As I look and I see,
I smile with glee,

For a small bird has decided to target me…

© Sam Stilton

Tring, Hertfordshire, UK.

Clouds for All Seasons

There they float far above our head up in the summer’s sky,
These marshmallow puffs glide effortlessly and seem easy on the eye.

As the seasons roll on and days become shorter,
The chill fills the air and darkness draws longer.

As natures dramatic shift of warm into cold does occur,
No longer shall these clouds be fluff like balls of fur.

Instead the frighteningly ominous sight of darker shapes unfold,
The warmth of the air is dampened by the bitterness of cold.

Roars of thunder and cracks of lightening precede the cascading rain,
Its as if the sky is crying and the sounds are screams of pain.

Lets not forget the times when these grey monsters fill above like an endless blanket sheet,
The air is still, frost bites the grass and nibbles at your feet.

The white flakes descend and flitter past your hat covered head,
Its now time to find your loved one and cosy up in bed.

The many shapes and forms these clouds they do so make,
My love for them is undeniable and most definitely not fake.

So look and admire nature’s marvels that reside up in our atmosphere,
That which stirs the senses of joy and wonder and on the odd occasion fear.

© Sam Long

Sucat, Muntinlupa. Philippines.

Clouds

Don’t you ever wonder

what clouds are made for?

Why are they around?

Even they themselves couldn’t tell.

These angels seem to float around

and bump into each other only by chance

on where the wind would blow them to.

Some just pass through

while some generate a powerful, unexplainable energy

once they meet a certain type.

There are times when they just stumble in the darkness

and carry a heavy load that they can’t help but cry.

But to them it’s normal.

It’s just a thing that they have to go through

in able to show the world that light, though we see it everyday,

is such a wonderful thing.

Don’t you see what clouds are meant to be?

It’s a simple representation of life for you and me.

© Ryan C. Dayrit. 2009.

5 Cloud Haiku

1
Slate grey shimmering
Shot silk, Strom Loch with storm clouds
Scudding overhead.

2
Here rain-veils, cloudscapes.
Here the music of silence
Here, near always, you.

3
Arched cloud blaze to west;
Salmon pink to north and east;
Bid the sun good night.

4
Big sky; dark grey clouds;
Bright white clouds; a rainbows end;
Weather to enjoy!

5
Sun and rain and cloud.
See the rainbow, not the rain,
See the bright-edged cloud.

White

The blank paper is beckoning.
I don’t know what to say.
Mt mind is empty; I was not reckoning
On writing any poetry today.
But when,
Yesterday lunchtime,
I saw the gannet in flight, then
I wanted to write, but rhyme
There came not. His ink-
Tipped wings
Made me think
Of all sorts of beautiful things
To say, as the wind blew
And fluffed every wave crest
To cloud. The gannet flew,
Taking no rest,
His back briefly silver in the sun.
Whilst on the cliff a daisy
Bobbed in the wind, dancing for the sheer fun
Of being. And the usually lazy
Billowy clouds sped
Across the space above,
While the milky horizon led
My thoughts to someone I love.

[From “Colour Poetry – a first palette”]

Cloud Cover

hiding in the clouds
miles from the ground
settled in the sky
never to be found
everyone in sight
but you are never seen
sleeping in the white
where you have only been

Clouds

Such clouds there are today,
such haughty clouds!

Look!

Follow their guiltless majesty
crowns glinting like steel
crucibles
in gothic caverns
fire sharpest of shadows
shade upon shade
of monstrous pustulous bubbles
oozing from invisible thermals
in turbulent air

Looking like mountains
these flocculent parodies
are thrown high
to the far backstage
of a theatrical sky
by an outrageous wind
hissing in contemptuous trees

Yet Thor’s insatiable thirst
cries
‘more, more!’
inconsolable lachrymose rage
soaking a sodden and disgruntled earth

But get used to them, these clouds,
these proud weather-sages –

They are immortal.
© Rosemary Dunn. 2009.

Shepherdswell, Kent. U.K.

Clouds

Such clouds there are today,
such haughty clouds!

Look!

Follow their guiltless majesty
crowns glinting like steel
crucibles
in gothic caverns
fire sharpest of shadows
shade upon shade
of monstrous pustulous bubbles
oozing from invisible thermals
in turbulent air

Looking like mountains
these flocculent parodies
are thrown high
to the far backstage
of a theatrical sky
by an outrageous wind
hissing in contemptuous trees

Yet Thor’s insatiable thirst
cries
‘more, more!’
inconsolable lachrymose rage
soaking a sodden and disgruntled earth

But get used to them, these clouds,
these proud weather-sages –

They are immortal.

© Rosemary Dunn. 2009.

Frowning Stormcloudbrows

Stains straying
Straining stairs
of unclimbable mountainclumps to heaven

Melbourne, Australia.

Good Morning Stratus Opacus

A hemline
draping sleepily above a shadowed underlay
Fraggled edges curling up crisply in the morning wind,
but not breaking
Smearing on and on to the horizon like damp, grey cake mix
Only a lone, naked streak of the suns light hands reach through
the thicket of a woollen sky to warm the eager grass below

© Rochelle Bree-Indiana Downing. April 14th 2008.

in Adelaide, South Australia: based on a conversation with his youngest granddaughter.

The girl and me

well there we were.
litlest grandaughter and me
siting front of the big window
her perched on my knee,
just watching the passing parade.
tufts of fluffy clouds scudding,and folk walking
in the front, over the park and by an old gum tree
“What can you see, robbi” she says to me
so I say to her, respectful like
you have be that when little girls are three,
“oh I see a big galleon, and look some horses
and there’s a big bad bear”
“I got teddy and he’s a bear,
but he’s nice”
“look there’s a shark
not much for him to eat in the park”
she laughed.
then said out real loud.
In her sweet little voice
and it was a little proud
“oh robbi, you are clever
you, can see lots, just in a cloud”

© Rob Shattock.

Northampton, Massachusetts, USA

Clouds
Over the high ridge
clouds blossom
from an emptiness
of flame-blue sky,
blossom and vanish
and blossom and vanish again
in a display
of planetary
prestidigitation.

Lamb White Days
It was fine today,
this fifteenth of May,
flocks of fleecy clouds
grazing in cornflower fields
watered by yesterday’s rain.

Islands in the Sky
Across a summer sky
too blue to be a sea
clouds form an archipelago,
not just mist shrouded
as those Islas Encantadas
that Spanish sailors first espied
out in the vast Pacific,
but made of mist itself.
What wondrous creatures dwell
on these shining isles?

© Richard Greene

Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, US.

Waft

A stately puff chattered (as I sat rooted to the shoreline)
until I pulled it down out of the sky into the empty chair
next to mine.
And was surprised at the weight,
how it gathered substance – like a slow-boil cauldron,
in a marvelous struggle of fluid tugs and re-adjustments
as it gathered bulk in the chair.

We watched our kind run up the beach
darkened patch of wave or blistered engine,
and wondered aloud about our kind,
life packed inside skin and not-held vanilla gauze.
We talked of travel and shadows,
of pies and warm currents.

At conversations end – our bubble’s tension over,
we traded parting gifts.
I took in a lavish breath
and felt the cloud cross into blood,
then gave my blood-breath in return
to carry and exchange again
as song or spark.

© Regina Coll

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

East Sussex, UK

BEYOND THE CLOUDSPOTTER’S GUIDE.

Who should now delineate
the armorial of clouds?

There are the numerable
species and their principal
conformations, but not one
is stable.
Evolution
is their only constancy
throughout imaginable
time.
Who would begin to list
aeons of instant changes,
to parse them for patterns and
revelations?
Only some
mad blazoner, king of arms
obsessed with limitlessly
quartering infinity.

© Rebbla. 2007

Sussex UK.

A LAST JUDGEMENT

His memory’s first
clouds denied him salvation,
louring over flames
and massed swathes of fugitives.

The panorama
left no space within the frame
for shelter. Terror
spread wide beyond the gilding.

He would never read
the legend, always rushing
past into futures
where clouds stilled his thoughts in dread.

© rebbla, Sussex. UK.

Sussex UK.

I would dream of scents,
walled-in, rising in sunlight,
a perfect garden
for quietus. Over time,
I added clouds to cool me.

© rebbla, Sussex. UK.

Montrose, Angus, Scotland

Five minutes about clouds

Thinking about clouds
Can be stormy or calm
From the darkest of grey
To the softest of balm
Now your head’s lost in fluff
And your smile is a charm
Then it’s back to full gloom
And a sign marked ‘alarm’

© Rachel Fox 2009

Becoming Clouds

Conspiracy, soft around its edge
swiftswirl shapes
becoming clouds
little cotton continents sliding
sliding towards
each other

Soft docking, become one
infant smudge
detaches
swims into the blue-bellied sky
mothership of white whispers,
slides down South

© Priscilla Taylor

Summer Storm

The Summer storm is brewing
The clouds are gathering round
And all across the sky
Is a cacophony of sound
The lightning flashes sharply
And splits the sky in two
From the sparks of Gaia’s eyes
As they turn the darkest hue
Nature at its fiercest
Reminding man once more
Whatever he invents
Is a drop on ocean’s floor
So marvel at the strength
Revel in the sight
For Nature’s glorious powers
Are showing all their might

© Phil Sanders 2007.

poem in the sky (@10972 metres)

flat sea fog island
in rolling boil to
massive bank of nuclear mushroom pillars shading
bays and bubbling cotton wool candy floss snow
stark, light-framed toppling plumes poised
to fall into chasm and then flattened misty sea
and on

fluffy buffalo clamber out of mist and skirt
the edge of sea with massive mothers-a-leaping
and merging to a rush to who knows where
concealed in grey

and
sudden tower erupts
but is washed under by
unlikely cataract cloudfall rehearsing
a later moment as
water

four frozen polar bears
race to the ice shelf watching
still distant archipelagos
rings, real ridged rings topped by
frozen explosions of
crisply
defined moments

and sudden whiter outgrowths reach up
almost close enough to touch and the mind
will not stop comparing and decoding each and
every unique cloud play up here
and each and every unique cloud play here

just is and
i will not let it be and
it just is and ever will be
when we’ve passed
but different

© Peter Stockton

“How Old Are You”

You know you are hooked when you drive off the road because you can’t take your eyes off it.
It has been there for only a few seconds, minutes, moments, but it is long enough.
You tell your mate, check it out.
He doesn’t see it, you start to doubt.
But no, it’s there you see it plain.
It’s a shark chasing a crain.
It’s wings are spread, as it flaps in vain,
because close behind is the great white waiting to claim.
yes you know your too old when you can’t see the same.
I hope I never get that old.
© Pebbles 2007.

A poem inspired by hearing the music of The Cloud Harp

Your clear blue sky

Your clear blue sky
cannot convince
me
I see through your pretence
no stitch masks your emptiness
your godless perfection of void

Your deceitful black sky
transparent
betrayed by chilling phantoms
false mirage of harbour lights and homesteads
unreachable

You see
I have heard the music of angels

[Dedicated to the Cloud Harp]

I sat and I watched as the clouds sailed on by,
Majestically striding and marching so high…

Washington State, USA

Context

The sky is hung with clouds
like some great stage
while we wander below,
too often unaware of the play.

© Patricia S Brown

some haiku inspired by clouds and cloudy days

Over the high fells
Every hill has its own cloud
Every tree its shade

(Ullswater August 2007)

*******************

Huge gold sun cloud-crowned
Behind twinkling Runcorn
Crowding birds wing home

(driving home from Liverpool January 2006)

*******************

Through twin trees, harebells –
Carrying clouds shoulder-high
The Ben broods on blue

(Ben Nevis from Loch Eil, August 2005)

*******************

Huddling weather;
Cloud-smoke low in the forest
Breath of nereids

(Conwy Valley October 2004)

*********************

On Bowland summit
Sheep grazing in cloud
Into the unknown

(Bowland fells, Lancashire, August 2004)

********************

Blackcurrant time, dusk –
Sky on fire, mountains on fire,
Leaves scream in the wind

(7th July 2004 – a fierce, strange storm sweeps into Northwest Wales fro SW to NE)

********************

Wales wild under cloud
Sprinkled with sheep, splashed with cows
Green green grass of home

(June 2004)

*******************

Spring mountains muffled
Crouch for warmth over wildfire
Gorse gold is stunning

(Anglesey, April 2004)

*******************

Mountain Seraphim
Hymn in opalescent fire
A Holy sunset

(Snowdonia sunset over Menai Straits, Spring 2003)

*******************

The land is getting
Tall. Mountainous trees. Sheep kneel,
Clouds greet ripe heather

(Into Snowdonia, August 2002)

******************

Cloud-copying peaks –
Vesuvio, Verzasca,
Veils of Everest

(driving to Milan, July 2001 – cloudshapes copying the underlying mountains)

© Pam Crane

PASSING CLOUDS

Have you lain on a bed of grass
And watched the pictures in clouds that pass
Large and small ones floating by
In that vast and azure sky

Here comes one, just what is that
Your imagination espies a cat
Then a break to reveal the sky
Before another comes gliding by

The shapes are varied, large and small
Maybe a fish or an animal
Puff-ball mountains of cotton-wool
Sailing by on a breeze that’s cool

Oh yes, I’ve lain on a grassy bed
And followed the clouds as each one sped
Their silent course, like a bird on the wing
And hope many more will be following

They come and go, some fast, some slow
As I leisurely watch this picture show
And enjoy the scene as it passes by
Of creative wonders in the sky

When next you have a moment to spare
And clouds are gathered high in the air
I m sure you’ll see, if you carefully look
Those images oft’ found in a picture book

© Olive Brown

You belong to what?
How sweet
How English…

Here I sit under the giant tree,
it does not bear fruit for it is a maple you see…

The Moon//and what i saw in the clouds drifting by…

I saw the moon cruising across the sky, like a giant jet fully lighted but moving slowly.
There was a cloud nearby that looked like a Tyrannosaurus Rex moving towards the moon.
It swallowed it whole and never made a sound.
The moon came out the other end again full and bright.
But then there was a hen approaching from the right.
The hen was large and ate the moon, but not to worry.
For when she left an egg was born full and white.
And further still again approaching very slowly now,
A giant turtle drifing courtly. It swam below the moon,
As if to say, “I don’t want anything in my way, goodnight.”
© Nick Houvras 2009

The Clouds, Sky and… ALL I SEE!

I see your beauty high and low
I see the clouds and bugs you blow about
and neither sends a shout, hey watch out.
I see your beauty everywhere.
Night and day shining bright.
The sun and moon and everything light.
Who is to say that this is rare, for in the universe
is any of this to spare?
I see you two embrace and never give a hoot to
the plane that passes by. Not a recognition or a cry.
Get back and look at all I see and then come home and you tell me,
Dad, your just imagining all you see.

© Nick Houvras, 2008
 
 
Remorse

There are clouds full of remorse and cry all day.
humans are the same in many ways.
I sat next to two republicans who didn’t feel any remorse for killing one million people in Iraq!
What is it? A kind of asking for forgiveness for ones wrongdoing!
Should all of America feel this remorse? Don’t know?
Then one should ask, remorse for What?
The answer; two million Vietnamese killed for a lie a president told to the people of America.
Remorse! What, more remorse? Yes, do we feel it?
No!
What for this time?
More lies from three other presidents!
Who? What? When?
Who? Well, Bush’s one and two, and Bill Clinton in the middle.
What? The death of over one million Iraq’s !
When, from 1988 to 2008 and beyond, over 20 years of killing for What?
Let me list the reasons: Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil, Oil….
And Vietnam?
For building a stronger industrial military complex for one state.
For one state? Yes, for one state.
Texas!
Now back to clouds that cry all day.
shouldn’t we all be crying too, like the clouds we have no memory and just go on.
One cloud was a question mark asking me why?
I don’t know and I can’t say, I’ll take my leave and cry all day.

© Nick Houvras, 2008
 
 
Two Eyes

Two eyes and a head what else do I see?
They are in the clouds looking down at me.
Who put them there and why,
perhaps the answer is a mystery.

© Nick Houvras 2007.

Clouds Come to the Ground!

Ha! Ha! white cloud have you any rain?
No Sir, No Sir, not today.

Ba, Ba, white cloud,
have you anything to say?
Yes, Sir, Yes Sir, have a good day.

Wa, Wa, white cloud,
you look like my brother Ray!
Do you mean the Sun Sir?

Well Okay!

Good, Good white cloud,
can you shade the sun?
Oh yes, Oh yes, I’ll do it just for fun!

Ha Ha white cloud,
do you see the moon?
Yes Sir, Yes Sir, over the Lagoon!

Nap time, sleep time, hope your still around
when I awake clouds,
come down to the ground.

© Nick Houvras. 2007.

OBSERVATION OF THE SKY

There is a face in the left hand
Looking up to the heavens and,
the eyes are half closed!
A gentle expression that is moving and white
grey and black like a giant cloud it drifts with the current of the
wind.
And says nothing like a silent prayer.
Now it has become a dogs head on the shoulders of a man
And the moon looks perturbed that something so close yet so far,
can dominate the sky.
Leaving no trail behind or gesture to remember.

© Nick Houvras.