An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
I'm just a gardener, With no plants to my name I rarely get company, So I'm glad you came. I hope you understand
By JT Banks6 years ago in Poets
Hoarse is the voice of Winter. His breath is sharp like the icicles He forms from His fingertips. His hum, blizzards it brings from the flurries upon the gravel roads.
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
If I remove this hive From my mind Would I still thrive? x2 How do I tame the busy bees from sporadically buzzin' in my head?
By ANONIMAE6 years ago in Poets
Oh what a night! By this exclamation you may assume I were referring to a quite exciting night. Filled with some extravagant event or emotional experience.
By Noah Hagedorn6 years ago in Poets
I wait for transition knowing I am loved knowing slowness is not failure the time is static in my brain knowing when I come back
By Abby Siegel6 years ago in Poets
The truth is-I was jealous. I barely knew her but she seemed to be the epitome of me. Every picture was interesting and beautiful. Plus, he liked me but I was convinced he loved her. I felt inferior.
By Kindrela Culver6 years ago in Poets
"SIP" Run with me away, To a world of tangueray Mesopotamian imaginings where clouds are permanent display And above the city floats.
By Victor Mendez6 years ago in Poets
I’m looking up at the night sky So calm and quiet Bright crescent moon in plain sight As thoughts go through my mind
By Alyssa Rockin6 years ago in Poets
like a snapdragon I turned away I care not what I feel but what I see. I’ll shift gears easily primera etapa. Still with the same lover that I carry around like a knife in the back.
By Francisco Gambino 6 years ago in Poets
One day there was a mighty wind in the Bay. The waves and the winds seemed to dance together. There dance was one that was constant and intense at the same time.
By John Burt6 years ago in Poets
At the end of my long, tiring journey, I came across a glorious, vibrant tree. I hoped it was the season to free my worry.
By Claudia Laugalys6 years ago in Poets
Have you ever sat outside with a journal and a pencil? In the grass as the sun sets and the lightning bugs sparkle? The pencil writes with a crisp tip and the point dulls the deeper in thought you fall?
By Samantha Hoback6 years ago in Poets
