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As the weather goes, so goes the patient.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Riding Together

For many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the East;
For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's Feast.

For many days we rode together,
Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
Steadily did the East wind blow.

We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
As freely we rode on together
With helms unlaced and bridles slack.

And often, as we rode together,
We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
And saw the bubble-making bream.

And in the night lay down together,
And hung above our heads the rood,
Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
The while the moon did watch the wood.

Our spears stood bright and thick together,
Straight out the banners stream'd behind,
As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
With faces turn'd towards the wind.

Down sank our threescore spears together,
As thick we saw the pagans ride;
His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
Shone out that last time by my side.

Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,
It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.

There, as we roll'd and writhed together,
I threw my arms above my head,
For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
I saw him reel and fall back dead.

I and the slayer met together,
He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.

[...] Read more

poem by William Morris
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Confused Atmosphere

Mother Nature may be confused, just like those, who have used,
This demeaning title to describe, the very God they have denied,
The Lord God, Who orders all, weather patterns, great and small,
He may never enter their minds, while stirring weather of all kinds.

Confused He isn't or will not be, for He is The Lord of all Eternity,
He is God of Order, up above; controlling weather men speak of,
And they truly don't understand, He controls the weather at hand,
Confusing only meteorologists, who dream Mother Nature exists.

They forecast the weather to come, not aware of where it is from,
Knowing not who is really behind, the weather they bring to mind,
Being shaken and very surprised, when it's not as they surmised,
But taking credit from their peers, for saying good weather nears.

Often times, you may even note, as weather is good some gloat,
About the returning of the sun, as if, it's something they've done,
Even though they may shy away, as bad weather comes our way,
Almost with a real reverence to, The Lord, to whom it is truly due.

For He is The Creator of this earth, Ruler over the whole universe,
He has, and always will control, all weather patterns, big or small,
With change meteorologists see, that fools the latest technology,
And it's those who have refused, God's Truth, who are confused.

poem by Bob Gotti
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Joi, The Glug

The Glugs abide in a far, far land
That is partly pebbles and stones and sand,
But mainly earth of a chocolate hue,
When it isn't purple or slightly blue.
And the Glugs live there with their aunts and their wives,
In draughty tenements built like hives.
And they climb the trees when the weather is wet,
To see how high they can really get.
Pray, don't forget,
This is chiefly done when the weather is wet.

And every shadow that flits and hides,
And every stream that glistens and glides
And laughs its way from a highland height,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'Our test is the best by far;
For a Glug is a Glug; so there you are!
And they climb the trees when it drizzles or hails
To get electricity into their nails;
And the Glug that fails
Is a luckless Glug, if it drizzles or hails.'

Now, the Glugs abide in the Land of Gosh;
And they work all day for the sake of Splosh.
For Splosh the First is the Nation's pride,
And King of the Glugs, on his uncle's side.
And they sleep at night, for the sake of rest;
For their doctors say this suits them best.
And they climb the trees, as a general rule,
For exercise, when the weather is cool.
They're taught at school
To climb the trees when the weather is cool.

And the whispering grass on the gay, green hills
And every cricket that skirls and shrills,
And every moonbeam, gleaming white,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'It is safe, the text we bring;
For a Glug is an awfully Glug-like thng.
And they climb the trees when there's sign of fog,
To scan the land for a feasible dog.
They love to jog
Through dells in quest of the feasible dog.'

Now the Glugs eat meals three times a day
Because their fathers ate that way.
And their grandpas said the scheme was good
To help the Glugs digest their food.
And it's wholesome food the Glugs have got,
For it says so plain on the tin and pot.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Heavy Weather

(michael sembello)
In the news today
Heavy weather
Oh, I can remember
The skies were so blue
That lucky old moon I promised to you
Now its gone lately
Somethings happening
I dont understand
Oh, how come decembers
Are hotter that june?
And how come the flowers
Dont know when to bloom?
Somethings wrong, people
Somethings happening
Happening where we live
The rising smoke against an endless sea of cars
As mother nature gets another senseless scar
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
The rain is falling harder each day
The faces keep changing
But the problem remains
Somethings wrong, people
Right before our eyes
Weve been hypnotized
The sound of silence
Broken by the sound of war
How can we heal
If we keep opening up the sore?
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
Will we ever hear the message?
Read the signs?
Stop all this talking now
Its time to save our lives
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy...
The road ahead keeps leading back again
The train were on is coming to an end
Lets open up our eyes
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
In the news today

[...] Read more

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blame The Weather

When your loves flown out the window,
And the pain comes through the door.
Once again youve missed the boat,
And youre stranded on the shore.
And you find out that what you had,
Was never yours at all,
Friends and lovers that you knew so well,
Will never take your calls.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
If you play the game
Youve got to be prepared to take a knock,
You get put down so many times,
But you keep on getting up.
So put your tears away,
And dont forget to worry is a crime,
Nothing bears thinking about too much,
Youll be old before your time.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
The pool of tears you left to drown in,
The helping hands that never came,
The years you lost out to another,
All up in flames
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blame The Weather

When your loves flown out the window,
And the pain comes through the door.
Once again youve missed the boat,
And youre stranded on the shore.
And you find out that what you had,
Was never yours at all,
Friends and lovers that you knew so well,
Will never take your calls.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
If you play the game
Youve got to be prepared to take a knock,
You get put down so many times,
But you keep on getting up.
So put your tears away,
And dont forget to worry is a crime,
Nothing bears thinking about too much,
Youll be old before your time.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
The pool of tears you left to drown in,
The helping hands that never came,
The years you lost out to another,
All up in flames
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sleigh Ride/jingle Bells

(leroy anderson/mitchell parish)
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way...
In a one horse open sleigh
Just hear those sleigh bells jinglin
Ring-ting-tinglin, too
Come on, its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Outside the snow is falling
And friend are calling yoo hoo!
Come on, its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up
Lets go
Lets look at the show
Were riding in a wonderland of snow
Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up
Its grand
Just holding your hand
Were gliding along with a song of a wintery fairyland
Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy-cozy are we
Were snuggled up together
Like birds of a feather would be
Lets take the road before us and sing a chorus or two
Come on, its lovely weather for a...
Lovely weather for a...
Lovely weather for a...
Lovely weather for a sleigh ride
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way...
In a one horse open sleigh
Dashing through the snow...
In a one horse open sleigh
Lovely weather for a sleigh ride
Lovely weather
Dashing through the snow

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Theres A Change In The Weather

(sung by working class man, middle class man and upper class man)
Im just a simple working man
Gettin by the best I can
In this crazy mixed-up muddled-up world that I live in.
Im a middle class sort of a guy
Im not rich but I get by
Pretending that I know just what Im doin.
Im a well bred upper class sort of chap,
I dont care much about this and that
Even when I know theres trouble brewin.
We think theres a change in the weather
Weve got to learn to stick together.
Weve seen the thunder clouds in the sky,
I wanna live, I dont wanna die.
I think the weathers changing, I hope the weather is gonna change.
I hope its a change for the better and it will brighten up my day.
I think theres a change in the weather, I hope good weather is here to stay,
I hope its a change for the better and it will brighten up my day.
See the holocaust risin over the horizon,
Gonna see a manifestation, total chaos, devastation,
Anticyclone and tornados brewin,
Gonna feel the lightnin strikin,
Thunder clap smoke a frightnin,
Theres gonna be evil doin,
Theres trouble brewin,
Everybody scared,
Too much thunder, too much fightin.
Heavy storm clouds comin,
Gonna cover up the sun
And gonna terrify everyone,
Better pack up your bags and run.
I think theres a change in the weather, I think the weather is going to change.
I hope its a change for the better and it will brighten up my day.
I think theres a change in the weather, I hope good weather is here to stay.
I hope its a change for the better and it will brighten up my day.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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You & The Clouds Will Still Be Beautiful

And every morning before Im awake
I walk around the world to make sure shes alright
And every evening fore I bolt the door
I give the stars a stir to make sure they will spin all night
For I see people who will scratch and spit and kick and fight
And I see nations war about whether right is left and whether wrong is right
And I know storms inside your head can amplify the blight
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
And every troy with wooden horse
I take to peaceful waters but cant make him drown
And every bastille that gets stormtroopered
Hail to the chief comes rainin, rainin, rainin, rainin down
And Ive seen people conduct lightning down to a summers day
And Ive seen nations playfully hurl snowballs packed with stones and clay
And I know rain inside your head can seriously put a stop to play
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
So let it rain
And when we see flying saucers, flying cups, and flying plates
And as we trip down lovers lane we sometimes bump into the gate
And I know thunder in your head can still reverberate
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather
Yeah
So let it rain
So let it rain
You know you still be beautiful
So let it rain
It doesnt matter what the weather you know youre beautiful
Just let it rain
Youre just, youre beautiful
So let it rain
Yeah, since the clouds all part the clouds just rose
So let it rain
From your pretty little mouth to your pretty little nose youre beautiful
So let it rain
It doesnt matter if the rain wants to fail if the rain wants to fall
Just let it rain
So let it rain
So let it rain

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Crazy-mazy Lee! Buzzy-fuzzy Bee Lost in Marathon Battle!

Flash it back, flash it back! Many moons ago - Sun is the god,
Stars are angels yet the moon is the lord;
Nature is the empire of plants and flowers.....
Trees and fruits danced in nature’s showers!
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

Oho! Things connected to original universe are supreme,
Yahoo! Flowing brooks, waves in the sea instilled hope in him,
Nature comforted primitive clan;
The same cosmos is he! Yet destroyed by the advanced man.
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

Oops! Sunday changed to Monday,
Monday to Saturday – human live changes every day;
Bingo! Hamlets changed to Towns in the same way!
Towns to cities, everything changes for a new-way;
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

By Jove! There is no time to appreciate the god's creation
And comprehend sky’s commotion in the life of apprehension.
Holystone! Holy Man trapped in artificiality, lost his future!
Far away from nature, is this human creature!
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

Traveling to the east, flying to the west,
sailing on the water and locomotion on the motor,
Worst at best, he is Bugging the nature for his best,
Man stop hurting nature and Quit harming nature!
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

In the world, where east meets west,
You and I are told work without rest,
A poor life disc if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare......
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

Eating fast food in hurry-bury!
Dating and rating with money in a scurry
Leaves you and me in a worry,
Pushes hin in to a corner, what a sad story!
Belting along, bucketing along in a long race,
Hurrying up and zipping up with a weather beaten face.

Lo! Get spirit from Dazzling sun! soon,

[...] Read more

poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Gotta Weather The Storm

Friend fell into alcoholic maze
the kind who never ceases to amaze
leaving me with only words to say
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Here's clue, he's got woman trouble
guess easy to say he's seen double
so I'm gonna lay it down again
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Working hard all this year long
he can't tell right from wrong
so I'll ring it from day one
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Swore aloud how he's thinking suicide
thinking aloud bout rising river tide
so I'll sing it from day two anew
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Booze has turned his head around
think he's suicidal devil road bound
so I'll play it from day three
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

So I'm laying truth down the line
listen to these blues yours and mine
listen catch hold my repeated lines
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Think it's worth sown in your mind
making black white stop you been blind
so I'll ring sing the twelve bar blues
sometimes man you gotta weather the storm.

Repeat sometimes man you, gotta weather the storm.

poem by Wayne Falconer
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Mrs. Train

Mrs. Train
I don't want to be first in line to see Mrs. Train
I expect that it doesn't matter to Mrs. Train
Being comfortable with yourself
And being patient and taking your time
Are the things that Mrs. Train can understand
I've never seen a train like this before
But then again there's never been
A train like this before like Mrs. Train
And someone's got to be the one to declare
That they want to be next in line to see Mrs. Train
But I don't want to be first in line to see Mrs. Train
I expect that it doesn't matter to Mrs. Train
Being patient and taking your time
Are things a train can understand
And I'll be happy when I finally take her hand
There's never been a train like this before.
Someone's got to be the one
At the head of the line to first see Mrs. Train.
But I'm not in any rush to head the line
And so the line has a missing head.
And I don't want to be first in line to see the missing head
I expect that it doesn't matter to the missing head
Being patient and taking your time
Are things that a head can understand
And I'll be happy when I finally take its hand
There's never been a head like this before
Someone's got to be the one
At the head of the line to first see the missing head
But I'm not in any rush to head the line
And so the line has a missing head
(Missing head) And I don't want to be first in line to see the missing head
(Missing head) I expect that it doesn't matter to the missing head
Being patient and taking your time
Are things that a head can understand
And I'll be happy when I finally take its hand
(Missing head) And I don't want to be first in line to see the missing head
(Missing head) I expect that it doesn't matter to the missing head
Being patient and taking your time
Are things that a head can understand
And I'll be happy when I finally take its hand
(Missing head) I don't want to be first in line to see the missing head
(Missing head) I expect that it doesn't matter to the missing head
Being patient and taking your time
Are things that a head can understand
And I'll be happy when I finally take its hand

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Essay on Psychiatrists

I. Invocation

It‘s crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eves and ears—
As though they were all alike any more

Than sweeps, opticians, poets or masseurs.
Moreover, they are for more than one reason
Difficult to speak of seriously and freely,

And I have never (even this is difficult to say
Plainly, without foolishness or irony)
Consulted one for professional help, though it happens

Many or most of my friends have—and that,
Perhaps, is why it seems urgent to try to speak
Sensibly about them, about the psychiatrists.

II. Some Terms

“Shrink” is a misnomer. The religious
Analogy is all wrong, too, and the old,
Half-forgotten jokes about Viennese accents

And beards hardly apply to the good-looking woman
In boots and a knit dress, or the man
Seen buying the Sunday Times in mutton-chop

Whiskers and expensive running shoes.
In a way I suspect that even the terms “doctor”
And “therapist” are misnomers; the patient

Is not necessarily “sick.” And one assumes
That no small part of the psychiatrist’s
Role is just that: to point out misnomers.

III. Proposition

These are the first citizens of contingency.
Far from the doctrinaire past of the old ones,
They think in their prudent meditations

Not about ecstasy (the soul leaving the body)
Nor enthusiasm (the god entering one’s person)
Nor even about sanity (which means

Health, an impossible perfection)
But ponder instead relative truth and the warm

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Pinsky
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Good Weather

This good weather ruined me,
I resigned in such a weather
From my government job.
I got used to tobacco in such a weather,
I fell in love in such a weather;
I forgot to take home bread and salt
In such a weather;
My disease of writing poems
Recurred in such a weather;
This good weather ruined me.

poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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Heavy Rain

Fields everywhere, now are completely sodden.
No more can their surfaces be safely trodden.
The grass in the fields was all turning brown,
But now, I fear that the fields could drown.

This year, it looked like we were facing a drought,
But now, I can’t believe how much rain is about.
It rains all day long, without even a pause.
Only by the plants, is all this rain is adored.

On the roads, there are massive puddles.
In the fields, under trees, the cattle huddle.
I know we all said we wanted the rain,
But now, it’s becoming a bit of a pain.

There are grey skies constantly overhead,
And I’m not that tempted to leave my bed.
The water in the fields will take ages to go,
And, now many of the vegetables won’t grow.

In this weather, you're constantly soaking wet,
And, by many a gloomy face, are you often met.
At any moment, I fear there’ll be a thunder storm.
This weather makes me feel very far from warm.

Every day, there is more heavy downfalls forecast,
How much longer can this dreadful weather last?
Even the weather forecaster gives a sympathetic look.
This weather is really pretty bad, even by his book.

In the towns, the High Streets are somewhat deserted.
On some roads, floods cause the traffic to be diverted.
Leaves and general rubbish clutter up the drains,
So that, on the road surfaces, the water will remain.

It’s summertime, and the weather is supposed to be hot,
But we’ve had all this rain lately, so obviously it’s not.
People everywhere are cancelling their summer barbeques;
Informing all their guests of the rather disappointing news.

There was a time when summer was hot and winter was cold,
But, into one, the seasons now seemed to have been rolled.
The whole nation over, organisers are cancelling events,
While fed up campers are speedily packing up their tents.

What the weather would be like, you once were able to guess,
But it’s all turned topsy-turvy and is now a real bloomin’ mess.
In an ideal world, during the day, the sun could shine nice and bright,
Then the rain could fall for hours on end, as long as it was only at night.

[...] Read more

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Wonky Weather

Never in my life before, can I ever remember,
Such mild weather, at the start of a November.
The grey squirrels, in the park, are still running wild,
As the weather, for this time of year, is warm and mild.

At the popular pub, a way along the seafront,
Some people sit outside, to enjoy their lunch.
Some brave souls, have rented themselves a beach hut,
While, along the shore, dog owners exercise their mutts.

Girls wear dresses, which leave their arms and legs bare;
That it’s now winter time, they don’t seem to really care.
On the crazy golf course, players are still having much fun;
All so eager to try and score that, often elusive, hole in one.

The weather in November is traditionally cold and grey,
But we’ve really enjoyed a most warm and pleasant day.
I would guess, this is all to do with global warming;
That a whole new pattern of weather is now forming.

Despite the pleasant day, it still gets dark extremely early;
Even in the daylight, I spot the moon, all white and pearly.
Over the town, a veil of darkness, slowly, begins to creep,
But, it is still too early in the day, for people to fall asleep.

But, when to the summertime, I now think back,
Of pleasant days, I recall, there being a real lack.
Our patterns of weather have now gone all weird,
But, by the weather, today, my soul felt cheered.

There was no rain today: all day, it stayed dry,
And the temperatures reached a seasonal high.
In July, I can recall one particular, rain soaked, day,
When the wild winds, almost blew me clean away.

When I was a child, the impression, which I got,
Was that summer was hot, and winter was not.
But now, the seasons have all gone rather awry,
And the weathermen now tell us a different story.

I remember early one April, not so very long ago,
I awoke in the morning, to a thick layer of snow.
This phenomenon, they refer to as ‘climate change, ’
Is, indeed, making the weather turn extremely strange.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Second Voyage

1903

We've sent our little Cupids all ashore --
They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold:
Our sails of silk and purple go to store,
And we've cut away our mast of beaten gold
(Foul weather!)
Oh 'tis hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine,
But Love he is our master as of old!

The sea has shorn our galleries away,
The salt has soiled our gilding past remede;
Our paint is flaked and blistered by the spray,
Our sides are half a fathom furred in weed
(Foul weather!)
And the Doves of Venus fled and the petrels came instead,
But Love he was our master at our need!

'Was Youth would keep no vigil at the bow,
'Was Pleasure at the helm too drunk to steer --
We've shipped three able quartermasters now.
Men call them Custom, Reverence, and Fear
(Foul weather!)
They are old and scarred and plain, but we'll run no risk again
From any Port o' Paphos mutineer!

We seek no more the tempest for delight,
We skirt no more the indraught and the shoal --
We ask no more of any day or night
Than to come with least adventure to our goal
(Foul weather!)
What we find we needs must brook, but we do not go to look,
Nor tempt the Lord our God that saved us whole.

Yet, caring so, not overmuch we care
To brace and trim for every foolish blast,
If the squall be pleased to seep us unaware,
He may bellow off to leeward like the last
(Foul weather!)
We will blame it on the deep (for the watch must have their sleep),
And Love can come and wake us when 'tis past.

Oh launch them down with music from the beach,
Oh warp them out with garlands from the quays --
Most resolute -- a damsel unto each --
New prows that seek the old Hesperides!
(Foul weather!)
Though we know their voyage is vain, yet we see our path again
In the saffroned bridesails scenting all the seas!

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Patient Mental

Patient,
Just as I am,
As always,
Watch the time go by,
Nothing left to pass by,
The minutes follow me,
Drunken little people,
Work away in me,
Why wont they leave me, leave me alone
When I dont even want me, want me
I have to, kill the words,
Before they, form my sentence,
The sentence that is me,
Judged by those that carry
The patient sits in cradled arms
That comfort me by strangling
Why wont they leave me, leave me alone
When I dont even want me,
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy
They have to kill the meal,
Before they can consume,
Consume my inner peace,
Without the understanding,
Trapped inside the works,
The hands are moving me
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy
Release me,
Let me go,
Why do they observe me?
Theres nothing here to cure,
I can see the silhouettes,
That sit behind the mirror
Im just like a clock upon the wall
Always moving, but never going anywhere
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy

song performed by Mudvayne
Added by Lucian Velea
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