An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Rainy day in the city is pouring off the rooftop dripping scattered from the grey sky dropping tears plink-plonking stringing down the hair, hanging wet
By Maureen Kellar-Kirby4 years ago in Poets
Strange night lonesome the prairie road runs endlessly night air restless blowing cold and threatening I whiz by pale hay bales scattered at intervals
Trapped me and kept me Captive in your home But little do you know Rather than a prison cell You created my cocoon
By Emily Dickerson4 years ago in Poets
The other evening the stars were gleaming and I saw a meteor stream across the deep ocean of night sky. The sky bejeweled with the dappled lights seemed so still as the meteor streamed by.
By Virginia McGuire4 years ago in Poets
Morning I have heard that she sleeps in the morning under the veil of night Get up early and come to us with your feet down
By Khalida Parveen4 years ago in Poets
The roar of the flames as they shoot towards the sky The soaring tempest scattering the ashes far and wide, The melodic crescendo increasing violently with a scream
By Colleen Millsteed 4 years ago in Poets
Here is a great article about haiku writing. (Rules for Writing Haikus) ****Spring**** More and more sunlight
By J. Delaney-Howe4 years ago in Poets
I wonder if the Antipodean summer I admit cringe from Will be here anytime soon? The radioactive, relentless blast of skin scorching
By Gillian Lesley Scott4 years ago in Poets
Ode to the small but mightly trash panda “If you see a raccoon acting aggressively [you] should leave the scene and call 911.” - A tweet by the Rockville City Police Department, May 10th, 2021
By Bri Craig4 years ago in Poets
What must it be like to be a tree? To spend my whole life buried from the waist down, My thirsty toes slowly clawing their way deeper.
By Joshua Lunt4 years ago in Poets
You wake up early With a fresh run, you go out Leaves are starting to rustle A light breeze you hear Birds wishing you good morning
By Sharing Randomly4 years ago in Poets
There will be no sound in the settlements The inscription on the roof and door will remain There will be the provision of tears, wanting without result
By NF4 years ago in Poets
