An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
before the floods, when artlessness breathed - coy and nature flourished - honest, simple - virginal somewhere in the antediluvian womb,
By Novel Allenabout a month ago in Poets
Evening Rain The streets are wet with the evening rain, lamps casting halos on puddles below, I walk slowly, tracing the echoes of steps,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Pink jellyfish sits out of water, not stinging me Sentinel ashore Copyright © 12/17/2025 by Andrea O. Corwin Thanks for stopping by! 😃 You can subscribe for free. Please consider leaving a comment. ✍️❤️
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Poets
I went on my morning walk, autumn leaves everywhere, on the tree canopy twirling, falling, leaves on the ground.
By Seema Patelabout a month ago in Poets
We won’t need to praise change Hung on tippytoes like the vine and the native wood immolating across the net and barbed wire
By Avocado Nunzella BSc (Psych) -- M.A.P about a month ago in Poets
Blaze of the Salamanders The fire roars like a beast untamed, flames leaping, hissing, striking the sky, and the salamanders writhe in its heart,
I Wasn’t Built for Quiet Lives I was never good at neat endings, or lives that fit into polite conversations, my heart has always leaned toward damage,
The Fading Fire The fire burns low in the hearth, its warmth fading into the quiet night, I sit with my hands close to the flames,
i wish you'd use me as a match, strike me against all the rough surfaces, sandpaper, the sidewalk, your own edges. you used to call me blaze,
By Daniel Kabout a month ago in Poets
It ended The days of uni All ended The dying inside feeling The living outside sensation Sensation Sensation The fire The flames Of the passing time
By Maya Or Tzurabout a month ago in Poets
A brief note: this poem is part of a year-long 72 poem cycle I wrote from October 2023-October 2024 and published on Medium in Scribe.
By Natalie Wilkinsonabout a month ago in Poets
The Fogged Garden The garden waits beneath the morning fog, flowers bowed under the weight of dew, I wander slowly, tracing paths we once knew,
