An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
The sun crawls its way Into the sky. The birds begin their songs. I listen to their faceless cheeps and chirps in the
By Dusti West4 years ago in Poets
my arse is itching and i'm eating like a horse in light of the symptoms it's worms of course so i said to the chemist Combantrim please
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
i came home late the other day to find a parcel at my door postage stamped Sth America yeehah i thought to myself SCORE i raced inside and tore open my package
“Changing the World one person at a Time” My place in the world is similar to a leaf on a tree Swaying back and forth which is the normality
By Teresa Barnes4 years ago in Poets
She had this part. She had this part she was looking for, she could feel it, she danced with it, she sung to it and she played with it, it lights each moment, alone.
By Rebecca Clarkson4 years ago in Poets
When Clouds fly, Late at night, eyes tight, Do you feel like… You are falling, Falling Through forever? When you lay down your head,
By Kali Mailhot4 years ago in Poets
Somewhere far from the Atacama Desert, Between the Sierra Nevada and the Appalachians, Is located the land of Zion, and next to it, a dead sea.
By DionGrio (Mak Wey) 4 years ago in Poets
There I lie perched upon rocks Patiently awaiting the green leaf I wait in rain I wait in heat I wait in darkness I wait until the Green leaf opens the light in my soul
By Christopher Giourgas4 years ago in Poets
"I am just content with the ways things are, there seems to be a sentiment hidden in the hearts of men, feelings and emotions repressed but surely alive,
By Angel Ramos4 years ago in Poets
the no begins with downward dogs and unemployment and talking into your cups of tea the no begins with shaking all those mulberries
By vye 4 years ago in Poets
The first bird call of morning and my soul jolts awake. Window open in the dark of a February freeze. I can be asleep for days
By Hannah King4 years ago in Poets
Is it not true, life’s our grandest affair? Upon death our parade reaches its end. A fresh corpse creeps into its resting lair.
By Noah Baldwin4 years ago in Poets
