An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
I cannot help but stop and look at reindeer calves. Do calves make you shiver? do they? I cannot help but stop and look at cheetah cubs.
By Thomos James5 years ago in Poets
“Mum hates peonies,” I said as I picked another black ant off a long stem and carelessly flung it to the floor. “No, she hates ants” My grandmother corrected me as she rearranged the same seven peonies in a vase over and over again.
By Jasmine Jaye5 years ago in Poets
Artichokes, however hard they try, Will always be purple. Now violet is just the thing, To get me wondering if artichokes are noble.
By Sita Baral5 years ago in Poets
Pay attention to the adventure, the adventure is the most strange try of all. Down, down, down into the darkness of the adventure,
The man that's really eyed, Above all others is the boy. A boy is skew-eyed. a boy is sharp-eyed, a boy is popeyed, however.
One afternoon I said to myself, "Why aren't goats more hornless?" Are you upset by how bicornuate they are? Does it tear you apart to see the goats so antlered?
She sends down her light in beams, she dreams to glow like her sister, Sun who lets her warmth pour down and run to Earth,
By Lexi Ehrman5 years ago in Poets
At what point do I retire, Allow the ground to swallow me whole. Dig my own grave and Lay down softly in the plush earth.
By Jadyn Rufe5 years ago in Poets
Black water, under the moonlight how deceiving romantically you are to me Black water, frozen pond under the moonlight
By Fuck Pretty!!5 years ago in Poets
Rain falls to cleanse You know the feeling Like warm summer daze With breeze meant for healing The dew of sheer drops
By Kaelah Sabree5 years ago in Poets
The brilliance of a sunny autumn day, with the leaves blazing the colors of fire, has faded into night. The excitement and commotion of the day are long gone; now, there is only stillness.
By J. Delaney-Howe5 years ago in Poets
Hot Summer Sun staring at my face This weather I can't handle It burns me like a melting wax candle Is it summertime sadness?
By Gladys W. Muturi5 years ago in Poets
