An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Submerged in darkness, the warmth presses in and eyes close in surrender. A fiery glow spreading across the pale blue,
By Morgan Georgia Blanks8 years ago in Poets
A rosebud forms new life, is sprouted Drinking the dew of each morning's kiss Rising up for golden sunbeams Seeking sustenance and nourished bliss
By GARY DEAN8 years ago in Poets
We begin as water comes down in rocks from the heavens, that are so far, far, away carried to the potential dimensions that: are, will be, once were; never and always exist, to form the bays we see today, so we and they say.
By Jada Wetzel8 years ago in Poets
Curious the joy that we take in a light fall of snow. Powdery, wet flakes swirl down from the sky, precursor to a curse
By Nathan Heard8 years ago in Poets
Rain hits the roof with a soft drumming sound: Constant, steady, and relaxing, While simultaneously grim, gloomy, and mysteriously unsettling.
By Skylar Rella8 years ago in Poets
When I see these autumn leaves drift by my lonely window I break away and sigh And when I see these autumn leaves break from these lonely trees
By Josh Mars8 years ago in Poets
These silly raindrops I wonder if they notice The way they soak up on the lotus Or the way they shake my concentration when they fall shifting my focus
Can you see it? Can you feel it? That's right, It's winter now, All I can see is the frost collecting on the windows, All I feel is my nose growing cold,
By Shae Thompson8 years ago in Poets
The world is a beautiful place. It’s made up of every color, Painted by the hand of an expert, Modeled into a sculpture that puts
By Sakiera8 years ago in Poets
The viciously ripped away feather soars across the sky, taken by the ever changing wind Whipping this way and that, left, right, back, and forth
By Shea-Lea Miller8 years ago in Poets
I’ve had a weird all-nighter. Or not weird at all. It’s just that All all-nighters are weird. They hold a sort of empty fullness in them.
By Vicky Babczyk8 years ago in Poets
Don't let life cut down your tree. You were born to live, you were born to be. Spread out those leaves, even shed as you feel,
By Michael Smith8 years ago in Poets
