I know not where I am
into the clouds I go
fly and sail
into the water, I float
swim and dive
into the eternity
I find myself
drifting slowly
nothing can stop
none can object.
I know not where I am
into the clouds I go
fly and sail
into the water, I float
swim and dive
into the eternity
I find myself
drifting slowly
nothing can stop
none can object.
Grey is the sky
clouds moving shy
Where do they go?
seeing from low
gazing at it for long
stood there amazed
at the vastness exhibited
Would they bring rain?
that would lead to gain
Would they? would they?
the mind probes in dismay
as it hovers over the parched land
which once upon a time was grand
grains and millets filled the barn
now all seem to have gone
with the field gone dry
no produce to buy
a sign of famine perhaps
a fluctuation in seasons
could attribute no reasons.
It is a day serene
the sky, not in a sheen
grey and black at times
there being no chime
the sun sits back quiet
not involved in anything tight
the clouds are dark and intense
hover they with a fight in a sense
a mislead to a night in trace
Well, in turn that is a sure base
it seems so destitute and silent
as I sit with a gaze in a trident
my mind is heavily bent
it does suffer a serious dent.
Lo! my eyes need a rest
to see all the best.
It is going to rain cats and dogs.
As the sky is downcast in clogs.
As the clouds are dark with fog.
Are they signs of rain? is the log.
They are says the common jog.
But they are far from true say some with agog.
It is a sight to see the clouds gather.
They seem to dash against each other.
They attempt to pass over one another.
They are dark and bright all over.
The black clouds appear to jump over.
The bright ones seem to hover.
The dark clouds look full with moisture.
The bright clouds appear like fluffy flakes all over.
The moisture laden clouds try to fall as a shower.
The snow clouds instigate a stoppage as ever.
Which would triumph in the race as forever?
If the black one wins it is a boon to all whatsoever.
As it ushers copious rain and prosperity more so ever.
The sky looks overcast,
The clouds gather fast,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
It seems as if it is going to rain,
Condensed vapours stand like a train,
Wetness can be felt in the grain,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
Expecting good rains the farmer becomes cheerful,
Starts counting his gains hoping a return resourceful,
Bloats with pride aiming a harvest bountiful,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
“Did it rain ?”you ask me, at last,
“It did and it did not” !I say downcast,
Rains are like men to the last,
They promise and break in an overcast.
Believe neither rain nor man entirely,
Both are charming but perfidious ambiguously,
Both preach but not practise regularly,
Alas! It has become dark, very dark ,at last.