Yvonne Gray sent us this ‘group poem’ written during a very enjoyable and productive creative writing workshop that was held at the Cloud Appreciation Society Orkney Sky Gathering  last week.  Image: A sunset over the Isle of Shapinsay, Orkney Islands © Peter Amsden

Clouds

clouds to make stories from
clouds to make dreams of
cloud – a shawl round the hills of Hoy
cloud – a warning. Something just over the horizon

cloud – a backdrop for the sunset
cloud forever changing
clouds that swiftly pass – or linger
cloud – a harbinger

cloud that carries precious rain
clouds soft as pillows

we feel cloud when we’re enveloped in cloud
but see nothing
when we see clouds, we can’t be in them
although we wish to

cloud for the fiery sunset
cloud for the artist’s vision
cloud for music’s inspiration
cloud for the poet’s revelation

by Mark Donovan, Yvonne Gray, Patricia Laurence, Mike Nordin, Carien van Zwol

Stromness, Wednesday 8 May 2024

Moira Lazarus is a song-writer and poet from London.  This is a poem she wrote a few years ago, just watching the London sky darkening.  Image: A sunset over Shepherds Bush, London, UK. (Red sky at night, Shepherd’s delight). © David Stening

From My Bedroom

I lie on my back and watch clouds travel
slow and thick
inked by the falling dusk, folds of velvet
blanking out the light.

This, then, is night.
A tipping over into another world,
an encroaching spell.

The sky holds pewter clouds now and is the colour of moonstone.
Second by second they are darkening faster,
blackening the roofs, hovering over chimneys like old smoke,
the sun almost gone.

Inside, closed curtains and artificial light prepare to
ward off the visceral intensity of night.

But I would like to fly
straight into this sky
ride the clouds to wherever they blow.
I would like to let the wild night flow.

Dawn will be here soon enough.

© Moira Lazarus, October 2016

Melody Serra, Member 56,638 from New York City, recently sent a poem she wrote about her membership and receiving our Cloud-a-Day emails.  Image:  A Circumhorizon Arc over Colorado, US.   © Keelin

Subject: Cloud-a-Day

 On August 29, 2021 I became a cloudspotter
                            member 56,638 of the Cloud Appreciation Society!
everyday since then, an email with a photo 
             taken by another member, of the sky, lover of blue
  to think that we are all part of the same sun-filled dome 
            to think that with our creative minds we can build shapes out of 
condensed water vapor 
            it all gives me chills	( the good kind )
  close to 600 emails have 
             brought me closer to
                                    skyscapes, landscapes, and seascapes around the world
                                                have taught me the difference between cirrus, cumulus, stratus, 
                                   cumulonimbus
                                   fluctus, asperitas, noctilucent, lenticular
                                              have taught me that the beams of light that shine through the gaps 
                                   in clouds, 
                                   like ladders of light reaching down to us, are called 
                                              crepuscular rays
                                   maybe i too will see the green flash one day
	                                      or the fluffy cumulus clouds reflecting on salt flats in Humahuaca
                                   or the optical effect, stunning color play, pearlescent
                                               called circumhorizon arc
		                                           for now i count myself so lucky, 
                                                                                  each sky greets me and beckons me
                                                                                                                       “what cloud do you see?”

© Melody Serra

Paul Davies, Member 28,330. wrote this descriptive piece to share with us.  We’ve paired it with an image of Zunderdorp, Gemeente Amsterdam, North Holland, Netherlands   © mercy

Staring out the window,
wondering why those cotton-wool balls
which look like mammoths
or a score of shrubs shoulder-to-shoulder
don’t over-fly my garden in smaller clumps
the size of cows or sheep or rabbits or birds

I mean
why are these clouds so large
is there some gravitational attraction
which keeps those visible water particles
together in bundles of roughly similar size

© Paul Davies

Jan Boles, Member 13,316, sent us his humorous cloud related limerick.  We have paired it with an image of a curtain of precipitation falling from a storm system over Charlo, Montana, US by Ruth Quist.

A cloud spotter, known as Horatio,
Was keen on words rhyming with “ratio.”
He often would sigh,
Looking up at the sky,
“That’s not ‘rain,’ it’s ‘praecipitatio.’”

© Jan Boles February 2024

Nick Houvras, member 7,347 is a longstanding member of the Cloud Appreciation Society and sent us one of his cloud related poems. We’ve paired it with a photograph from our Photo Gallery of a full moon over Bigfork, Montana by Ruth Quist.

Clouds

The clouds are the roof over our head curiously they break apart and you see the blue sky And sun above.
At night there my appear a star winking at you.
Or a big white round full moon that comes partly through.
The oceans adrift in the sky above but no sail boats there flying high.
Just occasionally white streaks planes leave behind like trails one can walk on.
You maybe, so for now just say hi, high to the clouds in the sky!

© Nick Houvras 2022

Holly Payne-Strange, Member 52,979, from New Jersey was enjoying the clouds at Thanksgiving when she dreamt up this poem.  We’ve paired it with an image of a Circumzenithal Arc over Broadway, NYC, US by Judy Schramm

To Have the Honor of a Cloud

Ice crystals in the sky,
Reflecting sunlight, conjuring shadow
An ever moving gallery of whimsy.

It sounds like magic.

Surely it should be, by all rights
This beauty we ignore, day by day.
I think it’s because they’re so far away,
Glory and valor we assume is out of reach.

There’s a certain proud nobility about them,
Stately and serene.
It all seems so easy, slow, even boring.
An illusion fostered by distance and assumption.

I can’t help but think
That if only we looked,
Really looked, and noticed, and appreciated,
Then maybe grace could be an everyday occurrence.
Maybe we would notice.

Lofty ideals, unencumbered and honest,
Could curl above us
Natural as the wind.
Maybe generosity would need no excuse
And sincerity would be easily accepted,
Suspicion and shame falling like shadow,
To some distant terrain we can’t imagine.

I have to say,
When I think of you,
I only see the clouds.

© Holly Payne-Strange