An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
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,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Every flame begins with a rupture. Every rose blooms from a fracture. This is not a ritual of control, but a ceremony of creation.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a month ago in Poets
It's been a year since the wildfire: begat from a hungry orange lick, dancing on November deadgrass, eager to grow. .
By Ella Bogdanovaabout a month ago in Poets
The last hearth sits In the sea of eternal frost Amongst the once proud pines Ever lit It wards against the darkness
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Poets
Reflections in the River I stand at the river’s edge, its waters moving relentless and cold, each ripple a reflection of the past,
In my life philosophy, foraging is a sacred word. When I lived in native land India it was an alien concept.
By Seema Patelabout a month ago in Poets
Sunlight Fading I sit alone in the room where sunlight fades, shadows draping themselves across the floor, I hold your memory like a fragile flame,
When the fire lights small like a candle, my feelings were okay- calm, relaxed, happy … When the fire lights medium like a torch, my feelings were slightly okay-
By Meghan LeVaughn about a month ago in Poets
I like the way the sun spills across the sand, wet, down by the tide line where the laughing edges of what’s left of the wave after it breaks
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Poets
The wind howls like wolves in the woods The bird feeder sways on its hook; All the seeds are gone now, No matter where I look.
By Patty DiFazioabout a month ago in Poets
Digging a Hole I dig a hole in the quiet earth, feeling the weight of every lifted handful, and the soil tells stories older than mine,
Bring My Hunting Coat, Mary Bring my hunting coat, Mary, the wind is turning, and I feel the cold rising across the fields,
