An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
The sun casts a burning imperial edict Announce the gathering time Read the direction of the sea retreat There is a desert
By CoSmile4 years ago in Poets
One day the ash will come down and settle on the hallowed ground. And the worms that writhe below will make it their home.
By Kevin Klabon4 years ago in Poets
Not cold, not dark, not heartless, not an abyss. Night Yearns to place a crown of stars on your head and wrap you in his velvet
By Sarah A. McGonagle4 years ago in Poets
When I blink I don’t see the sidewalks or streets. I see tall grass, wildflowers, trees, a bunny. Blink There are no cars or fumes. Behind my eyes is the warm glow of the sun on the earth. I smell the strong scent of pine, dirt, and sweet hay.
By LittleTree Oppy4 years ago in Poets
The pull of the cigarette smoke brings guilt and relief. ~ Just like any other addiction the thought of polluting the most beautiful environment,
By Oneg In The Arctic4 years ago in Poets
Poem inspired from a lost and discarded tube of plastic rubbish I retrieved while swimming in my mermaid tail during strong ocean currents and winds tossing us both about in the sea waves...
By Dolphingirl4 years ago in Poets
The ground that holds us up is filled with wonders, For one, it is on it that all the activities under the Sun are played out.
By Jay Arzeta 4 years ago in Poets
There is a place where the fern bends and the heather swoons beyond the scent of the view. Thistles wolf-whistle
By Rachel Lightfoot4 years ago in Poets
Lately, I crave peace so much A little more than I crave for pies Those little serene moments When your thoughts are controlled
By Jemima-Naomi Ben4 years ago in Poets
The earth glows with hues of amber, crimson and gold. Crisp cool chill in the air. It’s definitely not hot but still not cold.
By M. Johnson4 years ago in Poets
I unfortunately do learn, and have to live in the place that I am in; and, by and by glean a little of the life that inhabits it with me. Cupboard doors for instance claim their significance in an echo of the importance of garments they once housed. Madness? no - not quite, but a personification: an understanding aided by sound, and yes an interpretation; which like all of them have always rested however gently or heavily on the imagination.
By Arsh K.S4 years ago in Poets
Mr. Bird is a happy morning fellow Gaily hopping here and hopping there Singing happy high pitched songs with playful glee Joining his friends, family and neighbours As they render a chirpy morning medley
By Imabong Faminu4 years ago in Poets
