By Emily Brontë
O transient voyager of heaven! O silent sign of winter skies! What adverse wind thy sail has driven...
Explore Poems: Weather
Showing 1-20 of 417 poems
- By John TickhillIn a sesone of somere þat souerayne ys of alle, Þat was þe myry monþ of May May May is a “somere” month...
- By C. D. WrightWater Cold as it sounds The storm glass Refilled and sealed With a wine cork The spout spilling over...
- By Ruth AwadDays of rain. The drey outside my window would keel and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent ...
- By David TaitA week of autumn snow, and today the sun, the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar draping his sheets...
- By Khairani Barokkalightning strikes the sky for women. it skins clean air to show earth's mantle: no place where purity...
- By Cheryl SavageauHe is wearing a fisherman’s raincoat a floppy rainhat with a long back brim or he is not he is the boy...
- By Simon J. OrtizOn the West Coast, days of rainstorm wrestle the Coast Range, their wet fury driven landward. We never...
- By Ed Robersongiven to look into the bowl of sky for it to fill with future see it turned upside down on the grass...
- By May Swenson1 A smudge for the horizon that, on a clear day, shows the hard edge of hills and buildings on the other coast...
- By Luke KennardInjured, sleep-deprived, sorely tested, Adah, Cain, and Father K are falsely imprisoned in a shallow...
- By Robert CreeleyAll night the sound had come back again, and again falls this quiet, persistent rain. What am I to myself...
- By Simon J. OrtizA diesel freight truck roars toward us. A precipice is no mirage for its metal plunge. It is headlong...
- By E. E. Cummingswhat if a much of a which of a wind gives truth to the summer's lie; bloodies with dizzying leaves the...
- By Terese SvobodaWas it steady, a drizzle, a trickle under the door? People with their cloaks over their heads, dodging...
- By Chase TwichellI'm the first car after the sander. The cinnamon swirls of fresh sand are intact. Except for that—the...
- By Marie HoweWhat does it matter that this cold June breaks, another dish on the kitchen floor, skittering under ...
- By Susannah Bielak & Fred Schmalz
