nature poetry

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

My Mother's Garden
my mother vowed her life to a Garden that sprouted into hugs for her to hold I didn't think much of it as long as my mother was happy
By Maryann Landkamer7 years ago in Poets
Flowing Through
The grass beneath my feet is soft and still wet from an early morning dew. I could rub my toes in the mud just below the grass, digging myself in the earth, into Mother Earth. she has given us all to this universe, it is time for me to give my body back.
By Caroline Bailey7 years ago in Poets
Nostalgia
I perch on a rock, Mown grass beneath my feet, Hunched over from cold though The sun beats down on my face. I feel a calm warmth
By DLC7 years ago in Poets
The Garden
In a garden of flowers In a bed of clean air In a world that looks sideways In a garden that swirls Now I sit in this garden
By Olia HH7 years ago in Poets
The Geologist
Rigid, raged shards crept around the gothic molten rock Smooth fiery hot lava gushes out slowly, Like honey on a warm summer’s day
By Taylor Kelly7 years ago in Poets
Moments
I want to capture the moments. All of the ones that matter. I want the burnt image of sparklers at dusk, twirling in senseless shapes.
By Bugsy Watts7 years ago in Poets
Harvest
we plucked the last of the Elstars this morning the grass was white with hoar the apples bloomed with frost birds had tasted seven or eight
By David Ireland7 years ago in Poets
Snowtime
The snow paints a Monet painting, Makes everything as beautiful as the last leaf falling, As cold as a frozen pond in winter,
By Joshua Lino-da Costa7 years ago in Poets
The Storm
Any storm starts with rain, thunder, and lightning booming. It swells the air and the trees rock back and forth in her spell. The wind howls and bellows letting itself be known.
By Elijah Taylor7 years ago in Poets
In the Shadow of the Tree
1 In the shadow of the tree I am, a boat moves away. My heart cries, he would also want to leave...! Butterflies fly from one
By Luis Ignacio Marín7 years ago in Poets
We’re Outside Now
His Garden you talked so highly of her she was the tallest flower in the garden her petals were the first to bloom she was the most vibrant color of them all
By kiara aaleah7 years ago in Poets
Blowing from the West
1 Blowing from the west, a fierce avalanche seems the sound of the wind. The rain is coming to an end. May, traveler, it goes away by the river.
By Luis Ignacio Marín7 years ago in Poets