Best Wind Poems

Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
...

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
...

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
   The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
...

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
...

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
...

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper
   sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
...

Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
...

Before dawn wind rushes
driving night’s chill westward
so vestiges of darkness
send shivers along my spine.
...

And the weaver said, 'Speak to us of Clothes.'

And he answered:
...

All day long in fog and wind,
The waves have flung their beating crests
Against the palisades of adamant.
My boy, he went to sea, long and long ago,
...

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
...

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
...

Before man to blow to right
The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any rough place where it caught.
...

The dry leaves are shaken off by the wind
The wind softly whispered in the tired of the dizzy climate
The land regenerates willingly on the animals that inhabit it
The leaves are ready and willing to be eaten by insects, worms and slugs
...

At night, by the fire,
The colors of the bushes
And of the fallen leaves,
Repeating themselves,
...

Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
...

This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly.
...

Listen!
Dear dream of utter aliveness-
Touching my body of utter death-
Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliveness,
...

There is a wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
...

The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.

'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
...

Written at the old home in Portland

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
...

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
...

Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp. Outdoors
The winking signal on the waste of sea.
Indoors the sound of the wind. Outdoors the wind.
Indoors the locked heart and the lost key.
...

Being Young and Green, I said in love's despite:
Never in the world will I to living wight
Give over, air my mind
To anyone,
...

With no companion to my mood,
Against the wind as it should be
...

Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
Mock on, mock on; 'tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind,
And the wind blows it back again.
...

Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
...

Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
...

...

The rows of cells are unroofed,
a flute for the wind's mouth,
who comes with a breath of ice
from the blue caves of the south.
...

(Daddy what if the sun stop shinin' what would happen then?)
If the sun stopped shinin' you'd be so surprised
...

    A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, full of children and old people. The lion was loose. Either because of the wind, or by malevolent human energy, which is the same thing, the cage had come open. Suppose a child walked outside!

    A child walked outside. I knew that I must protect him from the lion. I threw myself on top of the child. The lion roared over me. In the branches and the bushes there was suddenly a loud crackling. The lion cringed. I looked up and saw that the elephant was loose!
...

A LINE in long array, where they wind betwixt green islands;
They take a serpentine course--their arms flash in the sun--Hark to
the musical clank;
...

Against a clear and deep blue sky,
One tree stretched tall, its branches high,
And stiffly they, of movement none,
Stood true and straight, their course to run.
...

The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
...

Each afternoon in Granada,
each afternoon, a child dies.
Each afternoon the water sits down
and chats with its companions.
...

Butterfly, the wind blows sea-ward,
strong beyond the garden-wall!
Butterfly, why do you settle on my
shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe,
...

You say love is this, love is that:
Poplar tassels, willow tendrils
the wind and the rain comb,
tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip--
...

Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
...

Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
...

Blowing stones
along the road on Mount Asama,
the autumn wind.
...

my first love poem
happens to be the world's oldest one
between
the seashore wind and the tree in the shore
...

What is the name you called me?--
And why did you go so soon?

The crows lift their caws on the wind,
...

Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind
Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks
Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon sunlight.
The shining of the sun upon the water
...

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
...

FOR one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
...

The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain --
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
...

At nightfall

The whistling of the wind –
...

That is the current that makes machinery, that makes it crackle,
what is the current that presents a long line and a necessary waist. What is this current.
...

...

The wind flapped loose, the wind was still,
Shaken out dead from tree and hill:
I had walk’d on at the wind’s will,—
I sat now, for the wind was still.
...

I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
...

WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
...

...

Paw marks near one burrow show Graydigger
at home, I bend low, from down there swivel
my head, grasstop level--the world
goes on forever, the mountains a bigger
...

Desire is similar to the currents and waves in the open ocean. Everything will be blown away if it is not as strong as a rock, and even then it is clear that sometimes it is weathered and sometimes it is abrasion because it is constantly eroded by the waves
Natural causality will never stop growing and developing
Nature will never break its promise; wind, waves and all the interference of the moon and sun become a synergy that will not be found on the planets in any space galaxy. Its orbit has been ordered by God and they all obey as part of piety to Him
Earth is a beautiful haven with exposure to land and sea as if you will never get tired of visiting
...

At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
...

There's sun on the river and sun on the hill . . .
You can hear the sea if you stand quite still!
There's eight new puppies at Roundabout Farm-
And I saw an old sailor with only one arm!
...

'Have you news of my boy Jack? '
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back? '
...

The Moon's the North Wind's cooky.
He bites it, day by day,
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.
...

log fueled fire blazes in a hearth, throwing out intermittent shadows embellishing a darkened room a flickering candle burns through yet another Christmas eve its light reaches out to highlight images of a family past
...

Go seek her out all courteously,
And say I come,
Wind of spices whose song is ever
Epithalamium.
...

The fierce musical cries of a couple of sparrowhawks hunting
on the headland,
Hovering and darting, their heads northwestward,
...

What is the wind? -a flow in many forms,
What the bards have call'd thee
All are their melodious evergreen songs,
As a philocalist I see the wind in me.
...

My shadow --
I woke to a wind swirling the curtains light and dark
and the birds twittering on the roofs, I lay cold
in the early light in my room high over London.
...

After the red leaf and the gold have gone,
Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain
Bruised and discolored, when October's flame
Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land
...

He play'd his wings as tho' for flight;
They webb'd the sky with glassy light.
His body sway'd upon tiptoes,
Like a wind-perplexed rose;
...

Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell,
Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,
When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey
Weary and way-sore.
...

Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head.
...

My candle burned alone in an immense valley.
Beams of the huge night converged upon it,
Until the wind blew.
The beams of the huge night
...

In that top corner of the house
A cobweb swaying in breeze
What made the breeze become the wind
A foul play..it blew butting blind
...

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
...

I built a small hut
In my sandalwood garden..
The wind fell in love with
my sandalwood trees.
...

He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
...

.
Winter is past
At last! At last!
Life has begun
...

It trembled so, the wind set it sailing
it trembled so, how could it not yield to the wind
far beyond
the sea
...

A slip of the moon hangs over the capital;
Ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding;
And the autumn wind is blowing my heart
...

oh wind where do you go
before the dawn

oh wind where do you go
...

I heard a bird at dawn
Singing sweetly on a tree,
That the dew was on the lawn,
And the wind was on the lea;
...

YEAR that trembled and reel'd beneath me!
Your summer wind was warm enough--yet the air I breathed froze me;
A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me;
...

A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop,
And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it.
With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off;
And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting,
...

You shape my bones into your hunting coat.
Rain slants like needles through the falling air.
The field is vast with the old blood of leaves.
Fire in the windows warms my eyes to sleep.
...

No man's sounds at all
Only the gentle swishing
Of leaves in the trees
The rhythmic chirping of birds
...

THE old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
...

NOW first, as I shut the door,
I was alone
In the new house; and the wind
Began to moan.
...

There is still the wind that I remember
firing the manes of horses, racing,
slanting, across the plains,
the wind that stains and scours the sandstone,
...

DANCE there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
...

Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
...

I cannot tell you now;
When the wind’s drive and whirl
Blow me along no longer,
And the wind’s a whisper at last—
...

The wind is singing through the trees to-night,
A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences
And crashing intervals. No summer breeze
Is this, though hot July is at its height,
...

This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
...

One night of tempest I arose and went
Along the Menai shore on dreaming bent;
The wind was strong, and savage swung the tide,
And the waves blustered on Caernarfon side.
...

WHEN I go alone at night to my love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind does not stir, the houses on both sides of the street stand silent.
...

HANDS, do what you're bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags in the wind
Into its narrow shed.
...

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
...

The wind has no compass
It knows not where it goes
But blows clouds of all colours
And autumn leaves along the ground.
...

"Four winds blowing thro' the sky,
You have seen poor maidens die,
Tell me then what I shall do
That my lover may be true."
...

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
...

fortune ~ a lamp-flame
flickering against strong wind
at the edge of hope
...

The wind flapp'd loose, the wind was still,
Shaken out dead from tree and hill:
I had walk'd on at the wind's will,--
I sat now, for the wind was still.
...