Wind short poem

Photo by Yashna M

“I am The Wind!”
My whispering Breeze echoes, ” I am here”
Whooshing, whistling, lustily gusting
Mysteriously surrounding the atmosphere
I am a definite presence felt, but not seen
Whipping and making restless nature’s green
Often my capricious air soothes, effectuating calm
Easing torrid oppression as would a healing balm

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Muriel G. Singleton

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
My family moved From Lincoln Heights, Ohio to Philadelphia. Pa. When I was fourteen years old; my Mother her young brother, 6 years older than me, my brother, a year and a month older, my sister eighteen months younger. My father was in the Military. I wrote my first poem at the age of 12. It was seven years later before I began to write again. I became involved with the International Society of Poetry in 1995. some of my of poetry was published in the local news paper, Phila. Daily news, phila. Sunday magazine. The National Library of Poetry.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

4 Comments on "Wind"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

@edward_muriel_singleton, you have delineated the wind so naturally and effortlessly. Torrid Oppression
is an amazing metaphor. We hereby give you this torrid appreciation of your write.

kwai chee low

A really beautiful piece. Makes one longing for more! And the photo image is breathtakingly in step with the poem…

asoke kumar mitra

very lovely imagery,the wind…………lovely write.amazingly nice.


Writing On Wind

Writing On Wind short poem

On this earth’s breadth and width So many reside. All live, and die. Some brief, some bold. The history of humanity; God’s manuscript! The good, bad, and some extremely sad. Heroes, villains, and victims; Stories of ordinary, and extraordinary He

The Void And Wind

The Void And Wind ballad

She pressed her ears to the ground- to feel the vibratos of his words. They tiptoed into her senses- barefoot bleeding tact on facts. Flustered with assumptions- they trampled a mockingbird! It raised its head unafraid- gasping for its last

My Friend The Wind

My Friend The Wind short poem

My friend the Wind- is a lady who changes- Personas with every dress! You can hear her voice- go up and down with- every lapel and pleat! Chagrined about her coif- she turns into a dust devil. Ginned again with

Ashes In The Wind

Ashes In The Wind short poem

I stand before you on the edge, A risen cliff above the ocean. Many times my life I’ve pledged, Followed the book and went through the motions. But you’ve forsaken me, my Lord. And I hear nothing but the wind.

This Night’s Wind

This Nights Wind short poem

Tonight’s wind is not the one found in the chimes of daylight Not the gentle breeze cooling your skin after a day’s labor And it’s not the invisible current lifting a child’s kite far above treetops This night the wind