An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Out in the fields where wildflowers paint the ground in a yellow hue, that is where the fairies dance. While deep in the forest, with air filled with morning dew as a cauldron brews
By Jennay Hayden8 years ago in Poets
waves weaving fruits feeding blood bleeding trees breathing skies snowing winds blowing grains growing streams flowing
By DarDar Leo8 years ago in Poets
What Haunts me the most, are the Random, little deaths, My mind refuses to comprehend Genocide, for even one short breath,
By christopher8 years ago in Poets
I once flew somewhere Somewhere nice up in the sky Just that once I got there It was not nice indeed the sky For it was not the sky I was in
By Jorge Afonseca8 years ago in Poets
Close your eyes. They are blind compared to the desires you had. I see people in disguise, sharing hate they gave breath
By André dos Santos8 years ago in Poets
Misread intentions Perfected deceptions Whispered words, broken promises Broken transactions, secrets of gloom How many times, did I see you wear this costume.
By Neura Logical8 years ago in Poets
Ignore the man surfing Should be a woman fully nude Everyone sure will be gocking There isn't mistake in the waves we create
By jack york8 years ago in Poets
Leaves turn to flame as summer is forgotten. Autumn spreads its power through the veins of trees. He wanders as a ghost, pushed along in a breeze.
By Matas Zenkevicius8 years ago in Poets
Never before had I experienced Such perspicuity Until I saw the water. It flowed, So leisurely, So casually, So effortlessly.
By LJ Chaplin8 years ago in Poets
The world is at stake, my friends, That is an inescapable fact. Its not long before everything ends And I can't say that with more tact.
By Siying Ho8 years ago in Poets
Through the never-ending woods of trees of the blackest leaves stands a stone pile, never understood, many people tried but nobody could,
When will this mountain move that presses out my breath, the heavy weight of just too much? Depleted air, once sweet, turned rancid.
By Daniel Cole8 years ago in Poets
