nature poetry

An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.

Marigold in full blossoming
Vibrant yellow and gold European plant shining from June to October The Romans called it Calendula relating to the first day of the month
By Moon Desert5 years ago in Poets
Chicken purrs
One of the loveliest sounds of joy Is the gentle purr of a chook Yes, chickens do purr, in a cluck kind of whirl And it’s the best in every book.
By Anne van Alkemade5 years ago in Poets
A Field of Gold
They are everywhere, The gold flowers. They cover everything, The greenish-yellow grass, The dark brown earth, Even their own brilliant green leaves.
By Amethyst Champagne5 years ago in Poets
October Showers
As the seasons change, so do we. What was once loved may be lost, or maybe the love we just fail to see. We used to say “whatever the cost”.
By Peggy Raether5 years ago in Poets
The Sun's Green Light
I often wondered why the sun was not made green, the trees blue, the sky yellow. The oceans red and hot. Why not? Why not the grass orange?
By Sandra Wilson5 years ago in Poets
Home
I followed your beacon As you searched for me My steps retraced Muscle memory Feet gripping the smooth Open road, til I am no longer
By Alexandra Sheader5 years ago in Poets
Samara
Dedication: For all the tail-less creatures that might inhabit your backyard, whether Earl the squirrel or Merle the cat. For whom shall I play my paschal tune this year?
By Alexander J. Cameron5 years ago in Poets
Lycanthropy
Cure this madness! This moon cycle sickness, delusions of wolf-men roaming the cobblestones, clawing at the minds of innocent bystanders,
By Jade Hadfield5 years ago in Poets
Dancing with a Maple
The sun is shining; the air is crisp and cold. You take a walk into the forest The joyous colours of autumn leaves Green and red and brown and gold.
By Helen Berkeley5 years ago in Poets
Mom's marigolds
Furious, I sat on the steps to my house staring at mom's blooming marigold flowers. She tended to them with a gentle touch, talking to them gently, talking about them gently, lovingly, with all care. She would turn to me and speak in a tone that would make a marigold lose its petals.
By Tonia Thraw5 years ago in Poets
The Teacher
nestling into the moment can be tricky when there is a whirlwind of unfolding non-existent drama in your head like a whirlpool down the drainpipe
By KWP 5 years ago in Poets
The Holy Alignment
The moon shined high in the sky, the forest dark on an August night- The breeze chilled my nerves as my senses dulled as I gazed into the abyss of the far and certainly unknown.
By Michael Paul Blanchard5 years ago in Poets