Bill Greenwell Today, we have clearing of roads. Yesterday We had snow business. And tomorrow morning, The outlook is unsettled, verging on pandemonium. But today, Today, we have clearing of roads. Nimbostratus Hangs above us, grey as old ectoplasm, quite pregnant, Though today we have clearing of roads.
This is an occluded front. And these Are isobars, huddling together, or just quietly chilling, Ready for a weather event. And this is a cold front, Which in your case, you will have if unprepared. Coats Should be worn, and scarves, and hob-nailed boots Which your grandad would have had ready.
This is the traffic warning, which is hysterical. It is in a triangle, with an exclamation. Have shovels Handy. Keep the cat in. And the budgie (not together). For today we have clearing of roads.
Basil Ransome-Davies A weather front is moving in from Norway, As cold as Putin’s heart and headed your way. The glass is dropping. Put on thicker knickers. Rain’s forecast for this evening. Wear your slickers.
The weather’s bad and never getting better. It’s getting hotter, colder, drier, wetter. The isobars have mostly gone bananas, While climate change is freaking out iguanas.
It used to be the protocol would be ‘Read The messages encoded in the seaweed’. Now satellites and high-tech apparatus Hijack the meteorologist’s afflatus.
The weather may be summery or vernal Outside, but there’s a climate that’s internal And less auspicious. What’s the use of brollies If it’s raining in your heart, like Buddy Holly’s?
David Shields Shall I prepare thee for a summer’s day? Not really — this is Britain, don’t forget. Rough winds and driving rain are on the way, So don’t cast off that winter coat just yet. Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, Though not here, to be honest, in the spring. Tomorrow starts all right, but then declines, So if you have to pop out, go first thing. Last week, you may remember, was quite fair, But now this cold front’s moved in: there are bound To be some heavy downpours everywhere, Turning wintry over higher ground. One consolation, if you get some snow: The pollen count’s exceptionally low.
Frank Upton And I’m standing real mean by the green screen Makin’ sure my beats are loud bold and cold Now tomorrow, that’s my sorrow, makin’ it simple and plain Don’t be surprised when you got rain on your ass Snow-boy an’ Caz-K be cuttin’ the tempo fast You suckas should know I’m the Low with the snow and the 730 blow I’m gonna leave ya in your pew with a clue What the weather gon’ do and it true I don’t mumble, don’t stumble, I don’t nevva fumble Storm Freya, sky’s greya, you better say a preya Better obeya, she a slaya An you boys in the hood watch out good There’s a cyclone in yo’ zone cut you clean to the bone Hoist yo’ storm cone, that’s my warnin this mornin’ Now my man, here’s the plan, back to Naga and Dan…
David Silverman Now over to Carol — what weather’s in store? Come all you sun worshippers: good news there’s more! They’re baking in Balham and schvitzing in Slough — And if you’re a polar bear, look away now. It’s thirty in Tromso and forty in Cannes, The warmest December since records began. Next week we could even reach fifty degrees, And it seems they’re still chopping down trees in Belize. In Crawley and Croydon it’s cracking the flags, But with all these glad tidings, a couple of snags: While all you amigos are hitting la playa, The heat of the oceans gets higher and higher, And while you uncover yet more flesh, to tan it, We’re ready to say Adios to the planet. So if you’re a coral reef, cover your ears: It hasn’t been this hot in two thousand years.
Robert Schechter Tomorrow there’ll be maggot rain and snowflakes made of frog, and tiny, hungry, dragon sleet will penetrate the fog
as cracks of lightning strafe the earth till life itself’s in doubt. To those who are my enemy, I say, ‘Why not go out?’
Your next challenge is to submit a spring villanelle. Please email entries to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 27 March.
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