Monster Storm

From the depths of the ocean, a tempest arose,
A monster storm, in darkness it chose to compose,
Its fury unleashed, as the sea churned and roared,
With torrents of rain, like a relentless sword.

Thunder rumbled, a deafening sound in the air,
Lightning split the sky, with a blinding glare,
The waves surged and crashed, against the shore,
Nature’s wrath displayed, as never seen before.

The wind howled and screamed, a banshee’s cry,
As the monster storm advanced, reaching for the sky,
Ships tossed like toys, in the raging maelstrom’s dance,
A formidable force, defying all chance.

But in the heart of the chaos, there’s a beauty to find,
In the power of nature, both fierce and kind,
For after the storm’s fury, the skies start to clear,
Leaving a world renewed, as the tempest disappears.

Wimbledon Rain

In Wimbledon’s hallowed courts, where legends fiercely vie,
The rain poured down relentlessly, clouds filled the sky.
But the crowd, undeterred, with spirit full and bold,
Turned this setback into joy, as a tale soon unfolds.

The tennis balls lay idle, the players took a pause,
Yet laughter echoed through the stands, defying nature’s laws.
Strawberries and cream abound, a sweet and luscious treat,
The taste of summer’s splendour, as raindrops kissed the street.

With umbrellas raised as shields, the crowd began to sing,
Melodies of unity, a joyous offering.
No match could dampen spirits, camaraderie held tight,
As raindrops transformed into notes, a symphony took flight.

And so, rain stopped the play, but not the love we share,
For Wimbledon’s magic lived on, within the rain-soaked air.
The strawberries and cream were savoured, oh, so sweet,
And amidst the sing-song laughter, memories were complete.

The Robotic Giraffe Chainsaw Massacre

Don’t ask eh?! I was taking part in a conversation creating weird images online. I liked the image produced so decided to see what ChatGPT would make of the scenario. Here’s something very different from what I normally do!

In London’s rain-soaked streets so gray,
A robotic giraffe strides with purpose, they say.
Its metal frame towering high above the crowd,
Silently moving, chainsaw wielded proud.

Amidst the mist and nature’s tears,
The giraffe roams, erasing arboreal years.
With calculated precision, it fells each tree,
Echoes of falling giants, a somber decree.

Its movements gentle, yet unforgiving,
The robotic beast, on its mission, unwavering.
Branches tremble, leaves dance in the air,
As the chainsaw whirs, trees fall in despair.

But why, oh giraffe, do you wreak such havoc,
Amidst the city’s landscape, so full and dramatic?
Perhaps a tale of balance, unseen to our eyes,
As progress and nature clash, neither compromise.

Yet still, we marvel at this mechanical sight,
A robotic giraffe, a symbol of might.
Through rain and sorrow, it continues to roam,
Reminding us of the power we’ve sown.

In this juxtaposition, we ponder and we yearn,
For harmony between progress and what we must learn.
May we find a path where nature and machines unite,
And preserve the beauty, in London’s rain-soaked light.

The Rain in Spain…

This one goes out to everyone who expected to be enjoying the Spanish sunshine today!

In sunny Spain, where warmth prevails,
The land of siestas and flamenco tales,
A curious twist, a weather affair,
Raindrops falling from the sky with a dare.

Oh, what a sight, my humble abode,
Drenched garments hanging, a heavy load,
My house transformed, a Chinese laundry,
Shirts and socks waltzing, oh, how audacious!

The sun should shine, this time of year,
Yet rain persists, causing a sneer,
My clothesline sags, burdened with droplets,
As if the sky’s playing practical jokes, I suspect.

I stare in disbelief, at each wet attire,
Determined to dry them, fueling my fire,
But rainclouds mock, with a mischievous glee,
As if they’re saying, “No dry clothes for thee!”

Oh, rain, oh, rain, why must you persist?
In this Spanish land, where sun should consist,
But fear not, laundry, for I have a plan,
I’ll embrace this challenge, with a dryer’s grandstand.

So, here I stand, with laundry aplenty,
Humming a tune, to boost my own sanity,
For though it’s absurd, this Spanish wet spell,
I’ll conquer the laundry, the rain can go to… well!

With laughter and patience, I’ll tackle this chore,
For rain in Spain won’t dampen my core,
So, dance, raindrops, and try your best,
But my clothes will be dry, come rain or jest!

Manchester Skies

Manchester’s sky, so blue and bright
The sun shines down with all its might
But as the day begins to wane
The sky turns from blue to grey

The clouds roll in, so thick and heavy
The air grows still, the wind unsteady
And though the world is calm and quiet
My heart begins to riot

For in my mind, I fear the rain
The drops that fall, with such disdain
I hope and pray the clouds will pass
And the sky will clear at last

For there’s nothing quite so dreary
As a day that’s dark and teary
But if the rain must come, I’ll bear
And find some joy amidst despair

For though the sky may turn to grey
The sun will shine again someday
And in that moment, I’ll be glad
For rain is just a passing fad

The world will bloom and come alive
As raindrops fall and help revive
The beauty of the earth below
That in the sun will brightly glow

So though the sky may lose its hue
And clouds obscure the view
I’ll keep my hopes up high and dry
And embrace whatever may come by.

Welcome to England!

I know it’s not always like this but…

Grey skies and drizzle, oh what a sight!
Welcome to England, where it’s never quite bright.
The rain’s a fallin’, the clouds are low,
You’ll need an umbrella, wherever you go.

The weatherman says, “It’ll clear up by noon”,
But you know the truth, it’ll be raining soon.
The roads will flood, the trains will delay,
Just another typical English day.

But don’t despair, there’s something to do,
You can always grab a cuppa and a biscuit or two.
Sit by the fire, with a good book in hand,
And wait for the rain to pass over the land.

Or head to the pub, where the beer’s always flowing,
And the locals are friendly, with their accents a-growing.
You might even catch a game of footie or cricket,
And forget about the weather, for just a minute.

So embrace the grey skies and drizzle, my friend,
For this is England, where the rain never ends.
But don’t let it get you down, keep a stiff upper lip,
And enjoy the humour, that comes with the trip.

If you enjoyed this poem, why not consider buying my new book of poems on Amazon?!