Praise the Rain
Joy Harjo
Praise the rain, the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk—
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity—
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep—
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap—
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food—
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down—
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all—
Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we’re led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
The Rain
Robert Creeley
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
Even the Rain
Agha Shahid Ali
What will suffice for a true-love knot? Even the rain?
But he has bought grief’s lottery, bought even the rain.
“our glosses / wanting in this world” “Can you remember?”
Anyone! “when we thought / the poets taught” even the rain?
After we died—That was it!—God left us in the dark.
And as we forgot the dark, we forgot even the rain.
Drought was over. Where was I? Drinks were on the house.
For mixers, my love, you’d poured—what?—even the rain.
Of this pear-shaped orange’s perfumed twist, I will say:
Extract Vermouth from the bergamot, even the rain.
How did the Enemy love you—with earth? air? and fire?
He held just one thing back till he got even: the rain.
This is God’s site for a new house of executions?
You swear by the Bible, Despot, even the rain?
After the bones—those flowers—this was found in the urn:
The lost river, ashes from the ghat, even the rain.
What was I to prophesy if not the end of the world?
A salt pillar for the lonely lot, even the rain.
How the air raged, desperate, streaming the earth with flames—
to help burn down my house, Fire sought even the rain.
He would raze the mountains, he would level the waves,
he would, to smooth his epic plot, even the rain.
New York belongs at daybreak to only me, just me—
to make this claim Memory’s brought even the rain.
They’ve found the knife that killed you, but whose prints are these?
No one has such small hands, Shahid, not even the rain.
Poetry About Rain
Rain whispers softly through the trees,
Dancing lightly with the evening breeze.
Silver drops fall from the cloudy sky,
Painting rivers where dry fields lie.
Each raindrop sings a gentle tune,
A melody beneath the moon.
It taps on windows, roofs, and stone,
Reminding us we're not alone.
The flowers bloom, refreshed and bright,
Their petals sparkling in the light.
The earth awakens, fresh and new,
Wrapped in a misty, crystal hue.
Children laugh and splash with delight,
While lightning flickers through the night.
The scent of rain fills every air,
A touch of magic everywhere.
Though storms may come with winds that roar,
Rain leaves beauty at our door.
A gift from clouds that drift above,
A symbol of renewal and love.
So when the rain begins to fall,
Pause and listen to its call.
For in its rhythm, soft and clear,
Nature's sweetest song appears.
Rain
By Edward Thomas
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.
Rain
Robert Louis Stevenson
The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
Rainy Day Song
Violet Alleyn Storey
The spring rain is soft rain.
The soft rain is sweet
And warm, and falls gently
On each country street.
And out in the soft rain,
Pink blossoms now blow;
In sweet rain and warm rain,
Blue violets grow.
Rain is more than just a natural phenomenon—it is a source of inspiration, reflection, and beauty. Through poetry, rain becomes a symbol of love, longing, healing, and new beginnings. Its gentle rhythm speaks to the heart, reminding us of life's emotions and the wonders of nature. We hope these poems about rain have touched your soul and sparked your imagination. Whether you find comfort in a soft drizzle or excitement in a powerful storm, may the beauty of rain continue to inspire your thoughts, dreams, and creativity.
