nature poetry

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

Mean- Spirited Muna
The moss pink moon smiles, How I wish to meet you, whispers rustling wind As Muna the ashen moon-hound tail wags thwack, thwack, thwack
By Saroyan Coles5 years ago in Poets
Autumn Mania
The air is getting cooler. I feel my skin erect with goosebumps as the crisp, autumn air kisses my forearms. My blitzed mind racing with overwhelming notions.
By Manic Rantings5 years ago in Poets
Spring
There's a gentle spring breeze rustling in my ponytail And a little Chevy Malibu humming down the street, With a soft pink sunset gazing into my deep, ocean blue eyes.
By Manic Rantings5 years ago in Poets
The Truth Seeker
The truth seeker, the seer, the unblemished vision, comes to me on the wind. She sighs with starstruck eyes, gently, softly,
By A.N.Tipton5 years ago in Poets
Autumn
The autumn air washes over me, cold and fresh and cleansing So often I think of fire as the impetous for washing away the old and underserving
By Erin Brosey5 years ago in Poets
The Star
Will I one day be a star? Looking out on the universe thinking This all moves so fast Thousands of years pass like moments
By Erin Brosey5 years ago in Poets
The Deep Blue
The ocean is a funny thing, isn’t it? / It’s just a large, open, wet nothing / With it swooning you in. / Forget the sirens, / Let the ocean will draw you in / Drive you mad, / Make you fall in love with it’s deep blue.
By Alex Barker5 years ago in Poets
The Sun and The Moon / Apollo and Artemis
The fluttering pieces of snow overlapping each other and the sun rises, / Showing His face through the tree. / The birds singing their beautiful songs, / To greet Him. / Sitting into the snow, / Behind the mountains, She, / The gorgeous Moon waves good night.
By Alex Barker5 years ago in Poets
my hands are palm trees
My knees are perforated from falling too much, but I’m thankful that the blood watered the roots of my growth. And although there are dotted lines to cut on now,
By Soul5 years ago in Poets
Neglected Path
The grass is thick and long here, whispering against my footsteps as I follow the neglected path. There's been too much rain, and the earth is silty soft. Sticky mud cakes my shoes and may never come off.
By E. McAuley5 years ago in Poets
Though We Both Shed Red
My soul spills in iridescence, with colors that track the moon. Soft and heavy voices alike whisper, “what magic is there that exists that surrounds me with this vessel?”.
By Tiyah Baht Yahweh5 years ago in Poets
Sonnet I
I hoped to wake upon an autumn morn, yet find that morning’s sun has naught to give. Instead I find that, from this dream, is torn -
By D.C. Yost5 years ago in Poets