Rainy should be sunny because rainy is all I’ve seen for the last month. March has never transformed into that cuddly lion and April looks like it will be packed with showers. Here’s to hopeful May flowers!
Another rainy day. Though there may not be thunderclouds rolling in above, it’s still pouring in my mind. Every sound, muted but deafening; like rain splashing inside a cave, the sound bounces off the insides of my skull and is echoed. Building and building until it’s reached an ear-splitting level, though it started from an inconspicuous hum.
On a quiet rainy day, Gemma’s favorite thing to do was always read a book. I would watch her, every time I babysat her. Normally, she played chess or watched television or went outside. But on a rainy day, Gemma only ever felt like reading a good book. And could I blame her? Reading was fun, and I loved it too…but she only seemed to read books on rainy days. Not on normal days, when there was so much else to do. And she never liked chess or video games very much on rainy days even though they were able to be played in teh same space. I used to wonder about this fascination, but I never once questioned it.
I remember it was raining. My house was on a street that was the first street after the end of the “bad” neighborhood. It was raining, and I was driving home, driving through the part of the neighborhood that people on my street never look towards, and I saw a black boy, doing handsprings … five in a row down his bad street.
It was a rainy, cold day. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the children were depressed and discontent with their lot in life. The drops plopped to the ground ever so slowly.
It was there in the glass, in the leaves, in the freedom to say no or yes. Every molecule fell apart at her fingertips like magic. Thoughts coming down like the gentle pitter, the delicate patter, of the rain outside the little townhouse she lived in with Marley. Her cat.
On rainy days, it’s never really sure if I’m going to love or hate the rain. Sometimes it’s just suffocating and gloomy and generally sad and grey and dreary. But other times, it’s like a sort of catharsis to stand in the rain and feel a hundred little droplets of water coming in contact with you.
Thick drops of rain fell from the sky in waves, drenching everything under it, including the two figures standing in the middle of the field, kissing with no care of the world around them.
She had such rainy windows she couldn’t see past. Who knows what the weather was like today, with these streaks and blurs? And they just kept moving. She wanted to wear tights today. Everybody used to say “wow, look at those muffin tops!” yet she felt skinny-wheat-skinny in the shower, with clear streaks and blurs running down her skinny thighs and no, it isn’t raining at all.
The rainy day was keeping her from playing outside. She wanted to go out so badly. Her dad had promised that when he got home he would plant the garden with her. Little did she know he wouldn’t be coming home.
It is raining cats and dogs outside right now. I can’t believe we have a winter weather advisory after all the beautiful spring weather we have had in Michigan. I feel like I am under too much pressure to write with a time moving beneath my writing. Now I am out of focus, so I have changed my topic.
i love rainy days in the spring when it is warm and perfectly acceptable to jump in rain puddles at night and get completely soaked and have the time of your life, laughing as hard as possible
Three rainy days, separated by four overcast days. Some people like those kinds of days to write. Others like those kinds of days to sleep. I like to take walks while the drizzle prickles my hair follicles and coats my face in damp sleep. Because while the sun is clawing to burst through the clouds, the slumber of the mist is all too familiar. And I let my boots grow wet from the puddles that coalesce around this world’s face.
Rain. I never see rain. It’s super hot here. Humidity. Sweat. No rainy days in Malaysia; not like the grey rainy days of the UK. Rain means something else here. Rain here is violent and sudden to contrast with the population’s character. In the UK, it’s grey and vindictive to match the media.
say that you love me even if it’s not true… the rainy season, by hunter hayes. it’s the first thing that pops into mind, because his song makes you feel like it’s raining. so beautiful… i would love to be able to write the way he does, with such simple lyrics that are so close to cliche but evade it by being so clever. beautiful.
it’s sunny, it’s warm, the shade is nowhere to be found. i know what lies ahead of me and by what i’m bound. i look forward to the future and to the hopes i’ve always had.
“where are you?” you say. look outside and see what’s ahead. it’s rain. it’s tears from promises forgotten and a littering of fears. it is not what you expect at all but whoever sad that was so bad? it just gives you more chances to kiss in the rain, cry tears of joy, leave those who don’t deserve you behind, and challenge yourself beyond compare. the future’s exactly what you’re looking for, you just didn’t know it then.
The rain sloshed down onto the pavement. “Mommy! Mommy!” the little boy shouted. “Can I go play in the rain?”
“Absolutely not! You’ll catch cold in this weather!” his mom responded.
It hadn’t rained on my plans for the last few days. Even obstacles I thought I would have to hurdle over, turned out to be non existent. Only an issue I’d exploded in my head. Why am I always waiting for things to turn sour?
It was a wonderfully long, cold, rainy Sunday during which I did nothing, thought of nothing, worried of nothing. The reality of Monday hit hard, and low.
It was a cold and rainy afternoon. We watched the clouds drift by in a lazy fashion. Our hearts will filled with wonder about what would happen when the fain finally stopped.
Rainy should be sunny because rainy is all I’ve seen for the last month. March has never transformed into that cuddly lion and April looks like it will be packed with showers. Here’s to hopeful May flowers!
Sometimes I feel rainy. Others I feel better. This was just one of those daily days. Someone has it better and another has it worse. HaHa, love.
Another rainy day. Though there may not be thunderclouds rolling in above, it’s still pouring in my mind. Every sound, muted but deafening; like rain splashing inside a cave, the sound bounces off the insides of my skull and is echoed. Building and building until it’s reached an ear-splitting level, though it started from an inconspicuous hum.
We we’re enjoying our rainy trip anyway…hey, we we’re together.
splash!! wellies runing about on the pavments
umbrellas shading people from the rain
piter, patter goes the rain!
Those are when I’m at my best; rainy days. Rainy nights. Rainy drives. Rainy walks.
Its probably my penchant for being alone that makes the rain what I gravitate towards.
Well, that’s romanticizing the idea. Truth is, I don’t like being alone – I just find myself in that situation more often than not.
So much for having faith in friends to stay friends.
It is so rainy here. I am mad because I want to play outside right now. Darn it I want to write. NO I w
On a quiet rainy day, Gemma’s favorite thing to do was always read a book. I would watch her, every time I babysat her. Normally, she played chess or watched television or went outside. But on a rainy day, Gemma only ever felt like reading a good book. And could I blame her? Reading was fun, and I loved it too…but she only seemed to read books on rainy days. Not on normal days, when there was so much else to do. And she never liked chess or video games very much on rainy days even though they were able to be played in teh same space. I used to wonder about this fascination, but I never once questioned it.
I love rainy days so much!you splash in the rain and have fun.
I remember it was raining. My house was on a street that was the first street after the end of the “bad” neighborhood. It was raining, and I was driving home, driving through the part of the neighborhood that people on my street never look towards, and I saw a black boy, doing handsprings … five in a row down his bad street.
It is rainy.
It is snowy.
It is sunny.
It is windy.
It is cloudy.
It is clear.
It is all of the above.
Some where.
It was a rainy, cold day. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the children were depressed and discontent with their lot in life. The drops plopped to the ground ever so slowly.
it’s rainy and dark in here, lonely and scared i am
Too much spreading over the sky, that child thinks.
Or probably thinks, he himself doesn’t particularly know.
There are ducks and dogs and pieces of caramel candy but there still isn’t that one thing that it needs.
It is not until then that he can fall, a perfect drop.
It was there in the glass, in the leaves, in the freedom to say no or yes. Every molecule fell apart at her fingertips like magic. Thoughts coming down like the gentle pitter, the delicate patter, of the rain outside the little townhouse she lived in with Marley. Her cat.
His rainy face fills the streets with tears.
Fresh, cool. The world awash in new life. Damp Hair, and a cup of Hot Chocolate warming you.
rain smells like something really new that is yet so deeply known.
On rainy days, it’s never really sure if I’m going to love or hate the rain. Sometimes it’s just suffocating and gloomy and generally sad and grey and dreary. But other times, it’s like a sort of catharsis to stand in the rain and feel a hundred little droplets of water coming in contact with you.
Thick drops of rain fell from the sky in waves, drenching everything under it, including the two figures standing in the middle of the field, kissing with no care of the world around them.
he is all that i can think of. my dream boy ^_^
A down pour of love into my heart, it’s a rainy storm of emotion in mind. It fogs my mind into a cloud of euphoria.
She had such rainy windows she couldn’t see past. Who knows what the weather was like today, with these streaks and blurs? And they just kept moving. She wanted to wear tights today. Everybody used to say “wow, look at those muffin tops!” yet she felt skinny-wheat-skinny in the shower, with clear streaks and blurs running down her skinny thighs and no, it isn’t raining at all.
The rainy day was keeping her from playing outside. She wanted to go out so badly. Her dad had promised that when he got home he would plant the garden with her. Little did she know he wouldn’t be coming home.
i smell him
he is cute i love him
i want to see him
he hugs me
he smiles
he laughs
Wicked windowpanes act as drag strips for the speedy little raindrops.
hot, cold, wet,
rain comes down.
the sky is loud,
when rain comes down.
rainy.
TODAY WAS RAINY. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY BECAUSE IT’S SUMMER. IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HOT! RAINY DAYS ARE LONELY DAYS. I FEEL TERRIBLE IN RAINY DAYS.
It is raining cats and dogs outside right now. I can’t believe we have a winter weather advisory after all the beautiful spring weather we have had in Michigan. I feel like I am under too much pressure to write with a time moving beneath my writing. Now I am out of focus, so I have changed my topic.
i love rainy days in the spring when it is warm and perfectly acceptable to jump in rain puddles at night and get completely soaked and have the time of your life, laughing as hard as possible
Thunderous, dark clouds hover in the skies. Rain drops drip pitter-patter on the old rooftop. My mind and my heart, in distant lands.
Three rainy days, separated by four overcast days. Some people like those kinds of days to write. Others like those kinds of days to sleep. I like to take walks while the drizzle prickles my hair follicles and coats my face in damp sleep. Because while the sun is clawing to burst through the clouds, the slumber of the mist is all too familiar. And I let my boots grow wet from the puddles that coalesce around this world’s face.
Rain. I never see rain. It’s super hot here. Humidity. Sweat. No rainy days in Malaysia; not like the grey rainy days of the UK. Rain means something else here. Rain here is violent and sudden to contrast with the population’s character. In the UK, it’s grey and vindictive to match the media.
say that you love me even if it’s not true… the rainy season, by hunter hayes. it’s the first thing that pops into mind, because his song makes you feel like it’s raining. so beautiful… i would love to be able to write the way he does, with such simple lyrics that are so close to cliche but evade it by being so clever. beautiful.
it’s sunny, it’s warm, the shade is nowhere to be found. i know what lies ahead of me and by what i’m bound. i look forward to the future and to the hopes i’ve always had.
“where are you?” you say. look outside and see what’s ahead. it’s rain. it’s tears from promises forgotten and a littering of fears. it is not what you expect at all but whoever sad that was so bad? it just gives you more chances to kiss in the rain, cry tears of joy, leave those who don’t deserve you behind, and challenge yourself beyond compare. the future’s exactly what you’re looking for, you just didn’t know it then.
The rain sloshed down onto the pavement. “Mommy! Mommy!” the little boy shouted. “Can I go play in the rain?”
“Absolutely not! You’ll catch cold in this weather!” his mom responded.
It hadn’t rained on my plans for the last few days. Even obstacles I thought I would have to hurdle over, turned out to be non existent. Only an issue I’d exploded in my head. Why am I always waiting for things to turn sour?
It was a wonderfully long, cold, rainy Sunday during which I did nothing, thought of nothing, worried of nothing. The reality of Monday hit hard, and low.
It has been dry and hot lately, it makes me long for those rainy days, but then again…. a bit of a warm spell is nice too
It was a cold and rainy afternoon. We watched the clouds drift by in a lazy fashion. Our hearts will filled with wonder about what would happen when the fain finally stopped.