An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
They no longer have a name. They become phrases. No foolish talk or time for a game, Only blazes. In this home the heat is the same.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Poets
There’s a tattoo on my wrist with words that speak of “home” It describes not a place where dinner awaits, Nor a voice on the end of the phone
By Linnea Loree4 years ago in Poets
Sperm and egg and enough lust The raw materials for you An alchemical moment Then something new You. In your first home, your mother’s womb
By Diana 4 years ago in Poets
We dance this fine line through what we choose to sacrifice and who we let inside There is indeed a boundary of what is mine
By Kyrra Catherine4 years ago in Poets
I was just a little seed living in a stable pot of bliss The smooth soil stroked my impending confidence Then one day I’m rising above the dirt while the other seeds stayed quiet below
By Ashley Gilmore4 years ago in Poets
London Born to a long night ‘neath star scattered skies Framed by amber leaves and crescent moonshine; I searched for belonging in spaces that felt
By Twenty Seven Lehngas 4 years ago in Poets
The buck lies breathless in the overgrown wild grass A reminder of what has come to pass Seasons roll by And so do ours
By Dakota Love Dangler4 years ago in Poets
I know your mind is your favorite place to dwell, but also a dreaded place of rest. With knowledge that makes you proud, reservations that make you cautious, memories that make you smile, even some that make you cry
By Meranda Vahle 4 years ago in Poets
The Pack by Cleve He lies there almost asleep But innately alert To sounds common To his days He does not like being alone
By Cleve Taylor 4 years ago in Poets
Push - Pull. A rubber band snapping - snapping me back into place. A place I’ve never belonged. The place to which
By Stephanie Ruth4 years ago in Poets
Since young I've heard that word, since a child I've heard I've needed it. A slick tongue has built my world, so now...why would I believe in it?
By Bryant De Jesus Sanchez4 years ago in Poets
Here I sit in this place "This place?" you ask "What place is this?" My quiet abode, a place of bliss A place unwalled, unroofed, unshaped
By Nick Moore4 years ago in Poets
