nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
In the name of staying Alive.
now it's morning But it is as quiet as a crematorium nor the cuckoo's cuckoo no chirping of birds no cock crows looks like this in the morning too
Bow
Life beams me up now Take a nice wonderful bow Caring and sharing
Rowan FinleyPublished about 2 hours ago in PoetsShe Selflessly Gifts
April is for celebrating the greatest of the great, Giving thanks and gratitude for the gifts we receive, Honouring Mother Earth in all her glory,
Colleen MillsteedPublished about 5 hours ago in PoetsStardust
* ask me in December tangled up in wanderlust while encouraged to remember a world constructed of stardust ask me of the seasons
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about 5 hours ago in PoetsEverlook
Everyone came to see me. Hoping that I Cover the light in an abyss as it yells Loudly can you free me? Look at me. I’m the star of the show. I amuse the
Joe PattersonPublished about 8 hours ago in PoetsSaffron Eclipse
Saffron threads, like fire's embrace, Adding sunshine to every plate. Fields of mauve, a fragrant sight, Fading fast as falls the night.
The Moonlit Steed
With a coat like spun moonlight, a creature of grace, The white horse he stands, a legend in this space. His muscles ripple beneath a pearlescent sheen,
mahmoud elsaadPublished about 8 hours ago in PoetsDesert Dancer
With a coat like moonlight, a sleek, sculpted form, The Arabian stallion weathers the desert's storm. His head held high, with nostrils that flare,
mahmoud elsaadPublished about 8 hours ago in PoetsEXIT
Enter natures kingdom, that Calms internal struggles, where Life's chaos Is broken down and Positive energy flows Soothes the rebirth in order to
Babs IversonPublished about 9 hours ago in PoetsHarboring Happiness - Day 1
Today in harboring happiness, I idle on the front porch while a finch flitters through the resident pile of leaves littering my yard. The hounds huff at her rustling between cracks in the sagging, sunbaked fence. I wonder if she is nesting or scavenging for rootless seeds. Yet, happiness imagines she is playing hopscotch instead, as if even birds understand these silly little things need time and a place to exist.
Sam Eliza GreenPublished about 10 hours ago in PoetsAcross the Heavens
Pull me under to where you fought the hardest in crevices of what was and should have been. Drop me into the wasteland of your unloved years so I can remember the reflection in the mirror who first taught you how to climb inches so you could ascend the depths of self-doubt. Through shattered glass, I will recount the whole picture.
Sam Eliza GreenPublished about 10 hours ago in Poets3 Years Divorced (Dec. 4, 2021)
Every year— or year and one half— the same: celestial superseding of yin and yang, light-dark, solar-lunar, water-flame.
Jennifer AshleyPublished about 11 hours ago in Poets