March poetry wall weather

http://www.bournemouth.gov.uk/poetrywall

THE KING OF WILD WEATHER I am the King of Wild Weather, of Sudden summer storms, hurricanes, tornados That strip-off loose garage roofs and causes Swirling waterspouts to lift-up seagoing ships And dump them miles away on snowy mountains. I make the thunder and create howling gales To lash and froth and the boiling ocean – I produce hail Spitting against rattling window panes with sharp Stones stinging the backs of hurrying pedestrians I rip-up the sea floor and send tsunamis speeding Hundreds of miles to crush and flood – drowning Thousands and smashing their feeble dwellings To matchwood. I order merciless droughts, drying out Waterholes in the arid deserts. Desperate people And beasts die from thirst or disease as I mock Those who vainly pray for rain. I ignite the fire In remote Northern volcanos, causing them to Spew out clouds of choking dust which disrupts Air transport and leaves angry passengers who With luggage abandoned, stare blankly at a silent sky. I whip up blizzards, covering the ground in a White whirling fury which derails trains, tips slithering Cars into frozen ditches and condemns to a lost Lonely death many a foolish hill-country walker And I direct the lightning like a Jealous God Picking my victims at random; the occasional Charred corpse sufficient reminder of my awesome power On any day I choose to use it.

Richard Green


THE BRITISH WEATHER

rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, no rain no rain? no rain, no rain, no rain, no rain, no rain, no rain, panic, panic, drought, drought hosepipe ban.

Richard Green


In June 2012 the residents of Leeson Road, where I live in Bournemouth, decided to hold a street

party to celebrate our Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Everybody was invited, food served, competi-tions run for the children, music and entertainment all held in a row of gazebos erected down the middle of the road. Virtually everyone living in the road came and all went to plan with one excep-tion – it NEVER stopped raining from the beginning of the day to the end !! Maybe that was one of the reasons for its unqualified success……. This was my way of commenting to all who took

part on the day:

Now please congratulate yourselves, Leeson Road residents,

For making your Jubilee Party A model of resilience…..

In spite of freezing temperatures,

Of quite incessant rain, We managed to enjoy ourselves And not whinge or complain…..

The Queen would have been very proud,

Had she come down to see Her loyal subjects in this road

Celebrate her Jubilee…..

If it had been sunny, warm and dry And not so wet and chill,

Would it stick in our memories As now, I’m sure, it will ??

Thanks are due to many people: To those who made the cakes, To those who put gazebos up

With so many mistakes…

To those who manned the barbeques, To those who filled each roll,

To those who made the salads In spite of wind and cold….


To those acting as stewards, The whole of the party through –

They strutted about in their High-Viz vests – But really had nothing to do !!

To those who put the bunting up, To those who the tables laid,

To those who entertained us all To those who gave First Aid……

To those who set the whole thing off,

Who planted the party seed – To them we owe an awful lots, Our heartfelt thanks indeed….

But most of all to all of us who, Despite the cold and the wet, Made this Diamond Jubilee A day we’ll never forget …..

Now here’s a thought for all of you –

Just a little suggestion Which I will frame for each of you

Into an open question……

After this successful Street Party In conditions inclement,

How do you think about making it An Annual Event ?????????

Rob Bury


This was written as a grace I was asked to give a few years ago before a dinner and is, I think, particularly apt for this year…..

As we sit down to eat tonight

And drink a glass of wine, Let’s give our thanks for what we have

As we begin to dine….

And think a bit, when we complain About this most incessant rain,

Of those who live – you will recall – In lands where there’s no rain at all……

©Rob Bury March 2010


MARCH WINDS A bag is wearing a tree or is it a tree wearing a bag?

what a comical sight that can be seen. Bright orange, cannot miss it look ...there it be. Standing proudly amongst its friends, not an ordinary tree. Forgive me please tree, but what is the story behind thee?

Waving your arms in glee, time forgotten, but now people looking to see. The tree wearing a bag or the bag wearing a tree.

Having shed my coat of leaves I shivered in the winter breeze, where it came from nobody knows but it held on real tight to me, as the winds howled around and it was going dizzy in great flight, till it grabbed hold my arms and twisted round real tight, telling me with a huff and a puff of its great adventure, from being bagged down with goods and stretching, an escapee, as it friended the wind and set on an adventure.

Looking down on me with my bareness after the colours once been, Discarded as my beautiful coat fell to the floor and I lost applause. From ornate colours of reds, golds and greens, for all to see, and the blossoms of the summer that made me proud to be me. Now barely seen as I shiver and frighten people as my shadows taunt, on those who dare to venture out on a wet stormy miserable night. The beautiful bright orange bag could see and took pity on me.

Now covering me in glory for all to see and everyone is looking, pointing up and stretching and looking up just to see me, even the birds and wild creatures come and shelter under the bag, as the rain pounds down and floods all the land. while it puffs up its cheeks and makes me whistle in glee, my orange hat to shelter me and all my friends underneath, while the storms and the winds can carry on as they do not worry me.

by Sue Bennetton.


Early Morning Summer Beach Walk Before the crowds fill up the beach, I set off with my dog along the prom, I hear the gentle lapping of waves, making music as only the sea can. And overnight fishermen packing up their gear, grumbling. "Much too calm." There's a tractor cleaning off the sand, flattening yesterday's castles built with so much care. And hungry seagulls race to scavenge tasty remains before it gets them first. My dog is chasing waves, shaking seaweed, digging holes for the tractor to fill in. A treasure seeking beachcomber, eyes down, scanning the tideline, Wanders into the sea and wanders out again without even noticing. Cafes and traders are all taking in supplies, rolls, burgers, buckets and spades. Piles of brightly coloured deckchairs & windbreaks are ready to be hired. Walkers stop, fascinated by black cormorants on groynes, like waiting vultures. Others collect skate purses, shells, round pebbles, seaweed, driftwood, And coloured glass worn smooth with years of travelling the oceans. Healthy looking lifeguards are preparing for any emergency. If I stood in the water Shouting. "Help." would I get scooped up in those fit brown arms? Joggers and cyclists take the fume-free easy, quiet route into town to work. Earnest people are sweeping sand from beach huts, filling water containers, Checking to see if their hung seaweed is dry, and listening to the weather forecast. Some, sitting on loungers in their huts, already drinking tea! The heat haze is lifting slowly, and we're ready for another, glorious day. Mo Turner


Rain

She’s drenched

walking past sympathetic looks

from a rush hour bus.

Her bag and jeans are drowned.

Under the fly -over,

trainers sodden, hair in strings,

she rubs her wet eyes

reading ‘…up 2u…’

A passing umbrella

shoves into her sleeve.

She’s dazed, in tears -

streams of sickening euphoria.

Wendy Irvine: 10/03/14

Shopping

I’m carrying two bags from the supermarket and it’s hailing. The moon is static, heavy, but patiently ahead, as I shove forward. A man stares, illuminated by neon from the hand made, wood fired pizza place. His girlfriend’s laughing and lighting a cigarette.

‘Oi ’ she shouts. I coil up against the pelting.

She’s lunging and grabbing something in the gutter.

‘This yours?’ she asks and hands me my door key.

Wendy Irvine 12/02/14


Fresh Evening

A round circle of lusciousness-

a gift -

a football arched high above a crowd of molecules.

Not quite a silver disc

set on the velvet of a grey and purple sky,

but nearly.

Most definitely a celebratory orb

kicked in the air -

staying there suspended and eternally shiny.

Let’s cheer for this cheerful moon.

Distracting moon, compassionate moon-

hats off to you!

Wendy Irvine 2010/2014


Weather

Whether the weather be fine,

Or whether the weather be not,

Whether the weather be cold,

Or whether the weather be hot,

We'll weather the weather

Whatever the weather,

Whether we like it or not!

Author: unknown


The British Preoccupation

It’s 80 plus, once more the mercury soars.

ANOTHER SCORCHING DAY the headlines scream

while people rush to don their swimming things

and sunburnt shoulders once again are seen.

No doubt in five months’ time we’ll have some snow,

The railway lines will freeze, the roads will block.

ARCTIC CONDITIONS, papers then will say

and flu victims will to the doctors flock.

But if it doesn’t thunder, boil or freeze

we’ll have a drought or, maybe, lots of rain

and everywhere when conversation sags

we’ll talk about the weather once again.

Ian Tovey (written in 1983 which rather proves the point)


The Seasons 2014

January, Winter x 3, reminds of stormy days, crazy days,

People needed to have a lovely holiday, or to breakaway.

February. Is when wintry nights, hearty food, to keep warm

And Valentines Day. Will there be a say.

One day will there be marriage

Who knows, I hope there will be a say.

March. I think it is near spring, when everything starts to bloom,

But does feel cold, but is started to get a little warmer.

But try to keep warm in my flat,

Easter sometimes pops up earlier or later, like a barmy bunny

That makes you a cheerful flee and so funny.

April. Easter is near. Is it going to be good?

And spring is here, so will write you a letter dear x

May. The May day holidays are back, blimey,

Summer’s here or near

Shock attack,

Best to go get set to get away

Better pack first – ha ha.

June. Summer is just around the corner, hope to see my love, my dove before later

Than nearer or sooner touring throughout this great summer.

Summer solstice is peace, love, summer of love

Where music festivals come to star and stay, oh drive a car.

July. My oh my, the half term begins, best to make arrangements today

To write a play, maybe for today.

August. Hurray! The summer of love and peace, part 2. Let it seize, oh let the lovers tease.

September. Back to reality, from holidays. Back to school, to work.

And it’s my birthday!

Autumn is my favourite, ‘cos it’s autumn’s crisp leaves, more scenes


October. Time for Halloween, and harvesting month.

Not bad, getting slightly darker

Colder and bolder, the night sky is also getting darker earlier.

November. A cold dismal month, for colds, illnesses.

Oh yuk, November rain, is errie and frail, in strain.

I should go and explore Italy and Spain.

Write postcards and love letters for you dearest.

And rehearse for a panto

Let’s get the show on the go pronto, hey presto!

December. Touring time, birthday signs, great pantos

To a merry Christmas time.

Hope you all find warmth, love and fun this never-know-when

As people need to be with someone, never be alone.

Not to moan and groan.

Pressure, piers, lives deciding games.

No tears, no fears

Another year is looming in the near mist of time

New Year, New You.

New regeneration of a new season next time

Hope next weather is an angel from above


Weather – Is this an ordinary world

The weather, whatever the weather

Is it nice, or lovely?

No it isn’t, it’s awful

The floods create destruction, nightmare so dismal and dark

Tears of Christmas/New Year in despair.

The corners of reality of this world

What is it? Is it wild weather

That waltzes in to show

And let forces of wind, quakes stir and erupts, to flow

I think it could be science

Involved is it in four corners of the universe

Light, matter, and more

What’s the weather like in space?

Though back here it was a disgrace.

As the world is indeed a strange place.

Not much quality, space, alas no hence, no pace

Now the domestic strange, dangerous place.

An ordinary world, though it’s nice

All the aftermaths of these unfair weather

There’s a hefty price to be cost

Sandbags, pumps, more weather bandits to warn us for sure if we have more.

As we the human race, we’re like dominoes or yoyo’s

Dangers of do’s and don’ts, nobody knows

Is it safe, this weather has gone wild

But can’t always save a prayer

Before it’s too late.

It felt like the weather storm

Was a bleak dark future

Of the second of the world, we could have been killed

But, phew, alas a whirlwind.

Of delight such a spirit of light, spring has started

To shine and delve into artist’s blotch of colour

But we all stood and helped together

As we don’t want to see this mad weather again

Otherwise we in pain and financial strain

March poetry wall weather

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