An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Adrift in the sea of stars, marooned on another planet. The ineffable desert stretches as mountains stand around it. Strange, contorted cacti and old, rotten trees lie around me. I unsheathe my blade, ready for anything that may come.
By Howl8 years ago in Poets
The ground feels like sponge. Each step sinks me deeper, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, tumbling into the undergrowth.
By Rebecca Hughes8 years ago in Poets
My little gladiator just came from the garden, that amphitheater where she contends against the birds and insects. Her sandals’ straps twisting up her legs as the English Ivy winds up her beloved Maple tree.
By Laura DiNovis Berry8 years ago in Poets
When the days are short and we're in darkness And the solstice came and been And you marvel at the trees in all their starkness
By A. Russell8 years ago in Poets
With the cherokee sun sinking westward low And the sound of the drums pounding down below With the clay and the heat and the scorching sand
By Jack Hampton8 years ago in Poets
I hear the lapping of the water against the rocks. The breeze off the lake fills my senses. The winter sun is trying to peak out from behind the clouds. Running my fingers over the pebbles, letting my senses take over.
By Cait Bailey8 years ago in Poets
Morning milky meadows bow and dance extended in ecstasy drugged from earth's mixed flesh beside tumbling circus streams
By terry simmons8 years ago in Poets
Red Trees Projection of thoughts; time slips by underfoot like time-lapse photography terrain. The sun implodes, a clear illumination in its place,
By Michael Ugulini8 years ago in Poets
Flora, a feisty young thing of just three, is the sister to Finn, a lad, with more energy than a jumping flee. Finn, that bright blue-eyed thing, is the spitting image of his father,
By ‘Licia Cee8 years ago in Poets
Trees will dance sorrounding you. There will be no escape, nor you seek one. The branches will grow and they'll protect you.
By Arturo Herman8 years ago in Poets
Ice Storm Suburban streets awaken with the crunch of tires cracking ice and shifting snow. The dog walkers are few and far between.
Spring of the Past Oh, how I do miss the days of spring Petals reaching towards the sun Life, depending on each stretch
By Elizabeth Daniel8 years ago in Poets
