MISTY MORNING
Misty, grey, November morning,
Everything still,
The sky is grey,
As the rain falls,
Drip, drip, against the fence it falls,
There is not a single cloud in the sky,
Just grey, quiet, stillness,
The grass is mucky and soggy,
And yet the birds continue to sing.
Perhaps they know the secret of the day,
That the grey will lift,
And the sun will colour the day.
Margaret Fearn
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THE GUIDE DOG
How magnificent he was.
Guiding his Master through the busy train station,
DARK WINTERS NIGHT
What a night,
The rain pelted the windows,
The sound heavier
As the hours progressed
THE HORSE
Has there ever been a more magnificent creature,
Such dignity and elegance,
And a sense of superiority,
outLoud Poetry
At OutLoud, we believe that poetry is more than just words on a page—it’s an expression of the soul, a connection between hearts, and a celebration of the human experience.