"forecast" poems
The air is perfumed with fresh rosemary's
And the wild springs with lush berries
Their presence colours the nursery with a sweet loom
It bleeds into the forecast for tomorrow's gloom
Nostalgia hits hard, heartbreaking and eerie
For a day when I wasn't paranoid and weary
Well, I'll be down by the Brighton pier
Watching birds float past in lonely fear
I'd love to turn away
The pristine sun shines like Hades
The outside scent is yellow, maybe
Little daises laugh in the foreground
Gardens sow a loving sound
Once I could see hope in the trees
And the love that whispered on the breeze
Now the trees foreshadow longing
And the gale howls with wronging
I'd love to turn away
The intimacy in my yellow tinted flowers seems to have faded
And the soft orchards have been invaded
My words burnt in a smouldering pile of dust
And steaming with the heat of my lust
I told a crowd I had something to say
But the people turned away
away
away...
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
I want you to be entirely distracted by my surface
the sunlight above me
I want you
I want you content with my forecast of calm waves
each encounter
Follow my subtle guidelines
Behaving as a good mother I"ll command you out of the ocean
if you swim too far from shore
Or if you dare plunge your head under me
Sexually
Remain floating on my surface layer this is where the
honey moon stage lasts
Do not stare into the eyes of a hurricane
storms in me churning off the coast of "you had no clue"
will leave you washed up on Island Nowhere
Absolutely no swimming after sunset
I don't care if you hear the waves sigh all night
In this situation I am God knowing whats best for you
saving you from drowning in my cycle
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
It's been raining all night and day
And I know just what you'll say
You won't go out when it rains
Except to hike a mountain range
But I long to be with you
Hold you tight the whole night through
I want to be your hiking trail
Or the sea on which you sail
I long to be your fairytale
Let you explore in all detail
Just want to be your hiking trail
Forecast says rain again today
So in your house you decide to stay
Won't go to parties, run errand or shop
When outside there are raindrops
When it Rains you go on strike
Cept maybe for one of your hikes
I want to be your hiking trail
Or the sea on which you sail
I long to be your fairytale
Let you explore in all detail
Just want to be your hiking trail
Doesn't matter rain or shine
I just want to make you mine
We could go out or just stay in
Either way with you I win
I just want to be with you
To hold you tight the whole night through
So let me be your hiking trail
Or the sea on which you sail
And let me be your fairytale
To explore in all detail
I just want to be your hiking trail
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Cloudy days,
Cloudy thoughts.
Cloudy messages you propose.
Cloudy raindrops,
Falling down.
You make no movement,
Make no sound.
A cloudy sky up above,
A sky of grey portrays your love.
Where are the sunny skies I yearn for.
Where is the sun.
For you, I thought you were the one, my love.
Though all you bring with you is the dark.
A sunny forecast up ahead,
When my days aren't spent with you.
All though all we knew was to live through the grey--
My love,
Sometimes we need to accept the truth.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
In New York City, it's just rain.
I always have my umbrella to protect myself from getting wet.
And then, I'll be off to LIU Brooklyn to meet new rainy day friends.
When there's rain in the forecast, i always have my umbrella with me every single day.
Anonymous.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
Another silent mid-Fall afternoon
Icy raindrops slash into my neck
The forecast calls for falling thumbtacks soon
One thin umbrella folding
Just 18 feet to the front step
With champagne acquainted
But forgot how to sip it
I slurp it down, eager,
'til I sit soaked and dripping
In time, fevered minds
will lower ears made for hearing
under waves of migraines
as mighty storm fronts are nearing
So I close down the bars and stumble home under awnings
Just to search for your name among newspaper cuttings
I've read the whole issue
and I've frowned over headlines
put it down
Now, soaked or dry, I've got only time
I've wasted so much of it losing my mind
I'm blind in the rain that now sticks in my hide
and they were right--
The forecast called for this squall to last all night
Another lonely mid-Fall morning walk
I follow gangs of specters in their steps
And, in the crunching gravel, ghosts will talk
November winds come howling
The second I leave my front step
The flavor's familiar
It comes back every morning,
when sunlight and sparrows
ignore tornado warnings
So the gales pick up strength
and a small bird's bones are hollow
The clouds lay oceans down
setting many sips to swallow
"So goodnight." I depart, but circle back in my wanderings
I'll always wind up here--shaky, ash-faced and yawning
I've read this before
it's printed on poor paper
in red ink
I can't say why I'm still walking by
Those other front doorsteps that I never try
The thick thumbtack rain stopped but I can't stay dry
the ghosts were right--
But if I find your name I might stop by.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
Francesco Bianco and his Wage-Stock Men,
In keeping current with their Rooting Age
Built his Charity on a Stone-House then
As Leisure played a better word for Rage
Not much for Surplus Capital enjoyed
At least for some Tips won by droplets fall
That petty, really. Plus some Papers browsed
For those Picklings shared by survey and toll
Yes, the Compliment of those Blue-Bloods past
Of only their Musk to commensurate
Eve bowed out; Abel only if Forecast
By Cain and his Friends allowed him too late.
You would wonder how such Time could afford
And invest your Years for such brisk Concord.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the old raggety rocker,
The one that always tips back too far
And my heart skips a beat as I
Secretly enjoy the thrill.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the mounds of old recipes on
The counter, yellowing with age, being
Ripped from ancient editions of
House and Home magazines.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the constant pleasant aroma of
Cookies, chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin
And snickerdoodle, the presence of cookie
Jars that are quickly ransacked by us.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There is the collection of teapots on
The shelf, the daily weather forecast that
Grandpa writes out every day on the table,
The forest of palms and tiger lilies in the center.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
Time seems to stand still, and everything
Is perfect, familiar, right.
Even when the room itself doesn’t belong to
Her anymore, it will always be to me
Grandma’s kitchen.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
you were nowhere on the weather forecast
a sudden storm that left me soaked
i loved the chill you sent through my bones
and the water cleansing my sadness.
i asked you three months ago if i was worth it
and you told me i make you feel dizzy
you were high but i know you meant it
and i think you're crazy for loving me.
all i want is you in my bones
and to feel the warmth of every one of your kisses
every single day of my life
you've turned me into something better.
there are still days when i can't get out of bed
and the thin lines on my wrists are a little more prominent
but you have become my home
where everything is sunkissed and light.
(a.m.c.)
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
Collecting thoughts, imagination as vivid as the colours of a sunset.
The endless saturday, the drinking, the endless sun.
As the sun beats down on your face, and they reveal more and more skin
You look around and lovers are everywhere
None of them care
The day is to bright and the future is endless
Colours blazing brighter than the sun
All the girls, don’t want a son
But you can care less, the sun is endless and so is your life,
Every time the sun is up, you find the fountain of youth again.
Turning you from 18 to 7
Caring is not your middle name
The world is your toy
So skate around the board walk listening to 3005
Searching for a new potential lover
new goal
You don’t look for cover,
like a mole
Cause you are reincarnated
You remember that school is today
but why go on such a beautiful day
the future is now
whats the point of sitting around like a cow
The ocean as blue as the sky
where your dreams are shelled
in a bright yellow sphere
and as the sun goes down after the day
Now son don’t be in such a dismay
Forecast says, you’ll be young forever
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Alarm clock kicks exhaustion into gut immediately as it sounds
University student jolts into day still dark
20 years later body still too daft to recognize shrill wake-up call as prey rather than predator
US kills Russians in Syria strikes
How to get ready in under ten minutes—life hacks you won’t believe: leave without locking the door, forget to brush your hair, and more
Five reasons breakfast is the most important meal of the day
Trump wants to replace food stamps for impoverished Americans
Snow in the forecast for the next three days
Why is vitamin D important for our bodies?
Sleep deprivation: a student epidemic
I’ve had panic attacks every day for the past three years—here’s how I’ve coped
Accused killer says victim hired him to do it on Craigslist
Want to know how to budget as a college student? Stop buying Starbucks
All she has to do to claim 560-million-dollar lotto is make her name public—she refuses
Signs that your friendship is coming to an end
Lions eat and **** suspected poacher
Tips on how to be successful after college
These are the victims of the Florida school shooting
Binge-drinking on college campuses and escapism: the dangers of drinking to forget
Declinism: is the world actually getting worse?
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
The power of Averages,
it means a lot
if you can
understand Means, a lot.
Assuming a Normal Distribution,
A Standard Deviation, or σ
defines where about 68% of the data falls;
roughly 34% above and below the Mean.
Two Standard Deviations
defines where a further 28% of data lies;
14% above and below 1σ and -1σ.
Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean
Negative 1-Sigma is one below;
The range from -2σ to 2σ includes 96% of data.
The implications are astounding.
Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data;
Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%,
the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results.
To illustrate:
Suppose we had a group of 100 people,
and we wish to determine average height:
If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm,
with a Standard Deviation of 20cm,
We can suppose that of 100 people, on average,
with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n
(for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm)
4 are taller than 220cm
14 are between 200cm and 220cm
68 are between 160cm and 200cm
14 are from 140cm to 160cm
4 are shorter than 140cm
--
Statistics is the parent of Probability;
Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast,
Statistics paves the way for modern Science
Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance
Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood.
For increasingly accurate figures,
one must have a larger Sample Size
and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup
of the Whole
*This is intentionally abused
by most of the News
you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.*
If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least
Margin of Error or Probable Error,
Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size
do not take it as accurate.
Depending on the source,
it could even be deliberately malicious.
Arm yourself with Knowledge.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Korean fashion experts have shared their know-how with Malaysia.
At the "K-Fashion Conference for Malaysia" in Kuala Lumpur on Feb. 16, a group of Korean professionals gave lectures under the topics "K-Fashion Design Trend Transition & Forecast," "Digital & Online Marketing Strategies," "Power Brand and Concept Development Strategies" and "How to enter the global market."
The Korea Fashion Association, the Malaysia External Trade Development Corporation (MATRADE) and the ASEAN-Korea Centre organized the event to strengthen the competitiveness of Malaysian fashion brands by improving the added value of the industry through brand development.
About 50 Malaysian fashion industry companies and related government officials attended.
"There is growing interest in K-fashion, along with the high popularity of Korean dramas and entertainment shows, making this workshop even more timely and meaningful," ASEAN-Korea Centre Secretary General Kim Young-sun said. "The Malaysian fashion industry has huge potential as it is currently ranked in the top five in the ASEAN fashion industry."
On Feb. 15 and 17, Korean experts visited local fashion merchandisers for market research and consultations.
According to the ASEAN-Korea Centre, the Malaysian fashion industry has had massive growth with the expansion of Islamic fashion markets.
MATRADE aims to boost the industry as the nation's leading exporter. It has been organizing Malaysia Fashion Week (MFW) since 2014 to make the capital a fashion destination in Asia.
The second MFW in 2015 featured designers from more than 15 countries, and over 300 booths showcased the quality products of Malaysian fashion brands to the domestic and foreign trade, accodring to the organization.
The ASEAN-Korea Centre is an intergovernmental organization established in 2009 with an aim to promote exchanges among Korea and the 10 ASEAN member states.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
Driving into the city
The early morning
Just stirring
The street lights still glow
Their ***** orange
But the sky
The sky is amassed with colour
From the deep dark blue of night
Where I can still see the stars
And the moon shines bright
It melts in the east
To pinks and oranges
Almost browns and purples
Mixed with the light blue
Of the crisp chilled air.
You can't see the sun
Not yet
The clouds are sparked grey
But no rain is forecast
Perhaps we'll get snow
It seems cold enough.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
A year has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The road rash had since been cast away.
The fast paced life was smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flash and whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash blinked my eyelash three days later.
Dreary forecast laid flabbergasted.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal
While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will
Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace
Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
Dealing so much with figurative language,
I cannot help but notice how many people
restrict themselves to either Mythos or Logos.
Myth or Logic. Symbol or Reason. Yin or Yang.
Firefox, by default, doesn't even recognize that Mythos is a word:
Mythos- The aspect of the mind concerning itself
with the figurative, the abstract;
implications, symbolism and interpretation.
Passive. 'Relative'. Yin.
Logos - The aspect of the mind concerning itself
with reason, proof, tangibility and fact.
Active. 'Absolute'. Yang.
It is of utmost importance to take both with a grain of salt.
It is of equal importance to ponder both for what they are worth.
Mythos seeks not to always be correct;
but to make one think what is right and true within one's self.
Logos seeks to be accurate.
To describe, define, calculate, forecast, and replicate the physical.
Most are biased towards one and away from the other;
it is impossible to have a balanced existence if you embrace one and deny the other:
If one fails to respect duality, duality will tear one in twain.
The path to salvation is comprised of both of these styles of thought:
To seek only one is to condemn oneself to
Autosegragationistic Social Darwinianism.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
All day,
My mind plays;
fast-forward
on the hour,
our foreplay,
at four today.
Me inside you;
hard pressed;
soaking wet;
hands: round neck.
Talking *****
making a mess.
Wet lips; stolen breathe.
The future coming; past tense.
moans and groans.
Blood rushing; lost of breathe.
your face flush and,
we aren’t even touching.
Daydreaming; In real-time:
Bodies dripping wet,
Everybody copaset.
Change of tune.
Tone alternate.
On your marks;
I’m getting set.
Your legs ajar,
My hands upset.
Teasing my ****
left you sticky-wet.
Between your lines,
I’m tracing it.
I won’t forget;
Her-rising; so fortunate
Constantly; awakening me
the forecast is set.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Starvation.
First and foremost
The plot thickens and the atmosphere is beyond any thunderstorm.
The forecast was predicted before the growling began.
Bellies ****** in not by choice.
Now misconduct fills the void .
I'm starving
He's starving
She's starving
The people are ready to run a mock
Have you ever witness ***** in a bucket, they fight relentlessly to get out until they tire.
Have you ever witness a person eating mud patties to ease the hunger pains, I'm talking about the real hunger games.
Shortcomings is starvation
Starvation of:
Attention
Food
Education
Clothing
Electronics
Transportation
***
Hugs
Love
Fathers
Mothers
Family
Yet, politicians act like they don't know what I am talking about .
And beanstalk will never grow if beans were handed out.
Give the people jobs that match America's cost of living.
I can hear bankers & corporation whispering blasphemy .
What does it really mean to live among the living when you are the walking dead......
We want flesh.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
- omnipresent
- ten thousand photon hands per body
- shining through souls;
> flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
the promise.
a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,
Surface vertical,
horizontal,
--Phasing--
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
Light
and heavy with the journey.
And then I kiss you again.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
It’s a 5 day world out there,
followed by a 2 day scare
of baths and walks
and holiday forecast talks.
Planning goodbyes before you’ve left and gone
whilst sitting still on Subway platform one,
with stationary thoughts
like the stationary train,
wiped down and dried
by the city state rain.
It’s a 5 day world out there,
followed by a 2 day scare,
together another
7 day affair.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 11:31 AM UTC
Its back,
And I wish I could say
For one night only,
But the forecast shows
A messy week ahead of me.
Every day
The sun will burn bright
And a cool wind will
Bite my cheeks.
Every night
The sun will set
Like God dropped a bowling ball
And storm clouds
Will come rolling in.
The thunder will be deafening
With no lightning
To illuminate the blackness.
The rain will come in
Big, heavy drops
All at once.
No gradual crescendo.
No calming patter on rooftops.
Only a roar at my window
That will ****** me
To open it.
In the rumble
I can hear a whisper
Begging me to open
The floodgates and let the rain
Come rushing into my room.
Let it rise
Up the walls
Until I'm kissing the ceiling
Then sink to my bed,
Feeling content with my efforts.
I wrap the covers
Around me and lay my head down,
Passive to the water
Filling my lungs.
Comfortable in my
Burial at sea.
Don't worry though,
My room is still dry
And the window is closed.
But the latches are loose
And I'm not quick to repair.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Two separate divided silences,
Which, brought together, would find loving voice;
Two glances which together would rejoice
In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;
Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;
Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,
Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;
Two souls, the shores wave-mocked of sundering seas:—
Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast
Indeed one hour again, when on this stream
Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam?
An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,
Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,
Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.
3.6k
The living reality of a metaphor, almost every ounce in-taken,
Every nuance, every pronounce, measured, weighted and weighty,
Fluid or firmament, each encapsulated, prior to release, scaled,
Tabulated, ordered, noted, recorded, and ultimately judg-ed.
Totality of it all, the varied quantities of the ingested nutrients,
even the forecast of the future, if every day was a metaphor for
like today…
DO
I speak of the day's headlines?
Of the quantity and nutrition that passes through my lips?
Or
The surround sound of the surrounding sounds of this day,
the flocks of bandito geese who exist only to torment,
the landscape working crews, with their tools, like a 7::00an wake up buzzing about, for the entire street, going house to house, looking for itinerant grassy knolls of patches of bright green,
overnight sprung up and needy to be
guillotined,
laundry to do, rugs needy for clothesline screaming/beating or merely super fast vacuuming;
they, hawking their skills available for the old and infirm,
or the fatty catty cattle lazy, (somewhere in there is moi);
and the decibels of their machines, the rat-a-tat of their rapido, voluble speech that feeds me poetry by the ounce of their laughter, but more exactly of,
What do I speak, to what do I allude?
Why all and none, everything and specifically nothing,
for the metaphor is meta! (1)
It is life itself, from the quarter teaspoon
to the overflowing bath, it is life at its most incremental,
the moment
of flushing face,
the second
of ah ha! recollection, the,
long term trends
trending,
the flatline of my EKG,
the weighty pronouncement of my talking scale (you've been bad),
IT IS THE EVERYTHING
that is measurable, weighable, isolatable, defined;
it is our existence of our each & every of action and inaction strung together like a necklace and a chain
We are metaphor, reality, is, the script,
which is the product of you.
scriptwriter…/
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 6:17 PM UTC