nature poetry

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

Roasty Toasty
Lacy steam swirls away Roasty warmth melts frozen hands Comfort in a cup
By M. A. Mehan about a month ago in Poets
Afternoon Communion. Top Story - December 2025.
I had a visitor in my classroom the other day. She, unknowingly, flew into a storm of cacophony and swarms of students swatting at her. She found a safe place to land and made her way over to my desk where she climbed onto a note pad and passed the time grooming herself and studying me with quiet curiosity. I was able to release her onto a Texas Sage bush right outside my classroom window.
By Sara Littleabout a month ago in Poets
Allow me to introduce myself! With a poetry! [I am the author]
I speak of spirit, soul, and flame, Of humanity’s quest, our endless aim. Religion, memory, stories untold, Poetry woven with truths, oh! so bold.
By C.M.about a month ago in Poets
Pure struck with a snowdrop and bit of a luck!
Pure as white, and gentle at sight, Luck descends in crimson shine. Upon the bloom, so small, so bright, Hope awakens in the morning light.
By C.M.about a month ago in Poets
And there was Light!
And there was light, Breaking the silence of endless night. Shadows fled, creation started its whirred, Hope was spoken, and life was bestowed!
By C.M.about a month ago in Poets
Enter thee
Enter the kindling. Wet. Heavy. A first draft of love. ~ She needed to sacrifice something. Anything. To meet the demands of the flames.
By Nancy Milesabout a month ago in Poets
Flame and Soil
Fire coils gently around my wrist, not in violence, but in recognition. It burns in quiet spits, deliberate and knowing, withering the weight that has clung too long
By Krysten Guilbaultabout a month ago in Poets
No Mercy Between Seasons
No Mercy Between Seasons Too hot summer. Sweat sticks like a second skin, air thick as wet cloth in the mouth, the sun pressing down without shame.
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Where the River Remembers the Fish
The river begins as a whisper, a silver thought slipping from the mountain’s mind, and the fish are born already knowing its grammar—
By Farhadabout a month ago in Poets
Sunshine
May sunshine find me In the wind and in the cold, Warm rays relieve me
By Heather Kasparabout a month ago in Poets
Frozen Walk. Top Story - December 2025.
A placid lake was the perfect place to whisper without words. Frozen over in December it ceased to move on the surface still, it flowed beneath glassy bounds.
By Bugsy Wattsabout a month ago in Poets
Campfires
As tender the night Slowly dawn appears Piercing sparks against the wood From the smiles creates the mood Dancing around the heat shifts
By Erica Williamsabout a month ago in Poets