nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Colors of hYOUe
There are daily colors of me and of hYOUe that we bleed into each other and leave stains of our existence everywhere including the heart and mind. It is the colors of hYOUe that has been a reminder of life and living in it. It changes us and moves us if we let it in beautiful ways. Open your colors of hYOUe!
By DeNisha Goodwin5 years ago in Poets
Finding Violet
FINDING VIOLET I WAKE IN A DEWEY MEADOW TO THE CRASHING SOUNDS OF WATER & ROCK. WITH A FEW SLOW MOTION BLINKS, I REALIZE I AM DRESSED IN ALL WHITE, LYING IN A BED OF MOSS BELONGING TO THE EAST COAST TRAIL. LOOKING AROUND ME IN A SEA OF VIBRANT COLOUR, I AM JEALOUS. I GET UP FROM NATURE'S NEST AND BEGIN. ASSUMING THE TRAIL FROM THE BEGINNER'S EDGE OF COBBLER’S PATH, I FOLLOW MY WHITE SNEAKERS AS THEY GLIDE ACROSS THE GROOMED WOODEN PLANKS TICKLED BY GRASS. AFTER SOME TIME AND MANY UNIFORM STEPS, I THINK TO MYSELF, ‘I WON'T FIND MY COLOUR HERE’. I GLANCE ONE LAST TIME AT THE MILE MARKER AND GO OFF PATH. RELIEF. WITHIN A FEW STEPS INTO UNKNOWN SHRUBBERY, I FIND A RED RIBBON TIED SOFTLY AROUND A SAPPY PINE'S OUTSTRETCHED FINGER TWIG— LIKE AN OFFERING. I KNEW THE OTHERS WOULD BE HARDER TO FIND. ORANGE AND THEN YELLOW I FIND ON HIGH REACHING BRANCHES AS I FOLLOW THE NOON SUN BLAZING THROUGH THE TREE TOPS. AS I GO FURTHER IN, THE WOODS GET THICKER, THE PATH ROUGHENS. I REST FOR A MOMENT AND ALLOW MY BREATH TO MATCH MY SLOW AND STEADY GAZE— PANORAMICALLY, SIDE TO SIDE, UP AND DOWN. AT MY FEET THERE'S A PATCH OF CLOVERS AND IN IT, ANOTHER RIBBON, GREEN. AS THE WAVES ROAR LOUDER WELCOMING ME, I TRUDGE ALONG GUIDED BY POSEIDON’S TEMPO, INTO AN OPENING. I FIND THE BLUE RIBBON PLACED ON A LARGE SMOOTH BOULDER. ‘TAKE A SEAT’ THE WIND WHISPERS. I LOOK DOWN AT MY HAND HOLDING ALL 5 RIBBONS IN A FIST, THEN SOFTEN MY PALM AND ARRANGE THEM IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE. RED, ORANGE, YELLOW, GREEN, BLUE... I THINK TO MYSELF, ‘WHAT AN ODD ACTIVITY I'VE GOTTEN MYSELF INTO. WHO PLACED THESE RIBBONS HERE AND HOW DID I…’ A COLD SPLASH OF REALIZATION HITS THAT I AM DREAMING. TURNING GRANULAR, MY GRIP WEAKENS AT THIS ELUSIVE ADVENTURE IS THREATENED. I START TO SLIP, PEBBLES CRUNCH UNDER MY FEET AND BOUNCE WITHOUT SOUND OFF THE CLIFF LIKE A BIRD IN FLIGHT. BORDERING REM AND SOFT SLUMBER, I REALIZE THAT IF I FAIL TO SAVOUR THIS EXPERIENCE AND PLAY ALONG, I MAY WAKE. I HOLD ON TO THE DREAM, STRENGTHENING MY HOLD AROUND THE RIBBONS. I DON'T WANT TO GO, NOT YET. IT IS IN THAT INBETWEEN STATE OF CONSCIOUSNESS THAT I FIND INDIGO. THE HYBRID BEAUTY. I PLACE ALL SIX RIBBONS IN MY POCKET. ENAMOURED, SIGHT UNSEEN, I WALK DOWNHILL TO TORBAY POINT, CLOSER AND CLOSER TO THE OCEAN'S EDGE. OVER ANOTHER HILL, I THINK IT'S THE LAST BUT AS THE SPACE WIDENS, THERE'S MORE TO EXPLORE, EACH FRAME PRETTIER THAN THE LAST. AT THE PEAK OF THE EARTH, DANGLING FEET SWAY CONTENTLY. STRAIGHT DARK LOCKS WISPING IN THE WIND, THEIR BACK SLIGHTLY TURNED. I SEE A GIRL. I’VE FOUND HER.
By Courtney Lancaster5 years ago in Poets
