Sunday, 22 May 2011

Ouch, sore eyes!

Preamble, preamble, preamble... Essential Background Context for this poem: The Weather.

Sunny intervals 

Sunny intervals,
Said the BBC weather forecast,
Without giving a clue 
To how long these would last,
Or what in between.

I suspected the weatherman
Not of lying, per se,
But of optimistic euphemism;
What he didn't want to say

Was, that kind of grey day
When the sky looks worn out
And it seems quite cold,
But it's not (nor hot either),

The rain will probably hold off
But the sun, truth told,
Can't really be bothered,
Though it may just pop out
In the intervals

(So schedule your loo breaks
For during the acts)
Though today, in fact,
'Sunny intervals' turned out

To be strong wind, intent
On filling my eyes
With sharp bits of nature
While the sky changed colour,