nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
The Color of Time
It has been a long time since I drove into western Glenn County, into cantaloupe melon hills and Cerulean blue lake, wheatgrass flaxen in the Slattery sun, the golden light of California silhouetting the birds in late 95 degree spring time. The Celtic Hour reached me all the way from Nevada City's public radio through the smell of farmland and evaporating water, orchards and freedom, melting together in the newfound heat of another year that begins with long days. If you can survive it, you will learn to love it. Later, for the first time ever, I could see Andromeda without looking slightly away. This does not mean you will win, said the twinkle-less galaxy, it just means your efforts have meaning.
By KRISTIN HENDERSON5 years ago in Poets
The ONYX BIRTH
I was taught that the Earth carried a deep dark silence, even non-exsiting before that state. No Sun, no Moon nor Stars... . It would be made perfect and inhabited. The North, South, East and West winds would emerge and find their way across the firmaments which divided large mask of water. Once the Creator added the Sun, Moon and Stars..., that became the first day. The Creator then reached deep down into the black surface horizon, enriched with organic carbon and took that soil and formed man. Breathed into his nostrils the breathe of life, and the soil would enbody the soul. The Creator would later place the man into a deep sleep, so that a rib would be taken from him in order to make him a companion of his own. They were to be fruitful. As generations and more generations pass, I would be spawn from the nector of man. Coming from this origin, I exsits. From the dark soil from which they came, the pure color of black can exist in nature without any light at all. My blackness is symbolic of power, mystery, elegance and sophistication. Not just one dimensional, but of Onyx, black olive, charcoal, and Jet. Vantablack..., which absorbs 99% of light, the darkest pigment on Earth. (Oh what power! ) My large dark hands and feet, make me capable of doing all things. The thick threadlike outgrowth from my head, is my crown. It is also full and black. It matches my skin, black on black. Full of melanin pigments which provide protection against the deleterious effects of ultraviolet radiation, given at birth. I say above all things and this black body, is my beating heart that beats the rhythm of all those that came before me. Being taught that their blackness was a curse, but the truth lies within.
By Anderson Loyd5 years ago in Poets
