nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
A Weed or Flower
The flowers bloom and the weeds are no longer tame, but there seems to be a hesitation for you to greet them the same The normality in society is a perfect contradiction to nature. the way the world turns and the way I take my final form are completely related to how society may mature.
River GranaPublished 5 years ago in Poets
The Half Moon's Sleepy Dream
On certain nights the moon needs a change, Quietly the bright white circle does rearrange, Changing into half the circle it was before,
Shelly BartleyPublished 5 years ago in Poets
I Wanna Be a Penguin
I don't want to be a human anymore I think that there's something more in store If I go up north to explore I want to be a penguin
Bird XrealPublished 5 years ago in Poets
Paying Homage
You are the perfect embodiment of Mother Nature Skin dark and moist like the rich soil of our motherland, yet glistening like the stars that people wish upon
Terowi MarshallPublished 5 years ago in Poets
My Dad Has Rain and I Have You
My dad is obsessed with rain. Constantly checking his gauge, measuring how many inches poured from the sky the night before.
“Blossoming”
Recovery is like early spring. Once dormant and dead, As the snow melts, And the sun shines brighter, A flower pushes its way through the cracks of a sidewalk,
Carrielee CrenshawPublished 5 years ago in Poets
Near the River's Edge
Stripped of all human traits, And deprived from God's presence, They howl like savaged Wolves, Well, their souls atleast,
ItzAMarkz _Published 5 years ago in Poets
Wilting Rose
It’s been like this since long before this last autumn Screamin’ out “nobody wants to see me blossom” Then you swallowed some roundup and acted all solemn
Niko D'agnoloPublished 5 years ago in Poets
I Dream of a Place
When I'm sad or hopeless, I dream of a place. A place where the sun shines so bright that the usual blue fog turns into variant shades of
Calling Me
For I hear the beating of the drums Boom boom boom boom For I hear their cries and chants With the drums Boom boom boom boom
Deborah PortilloPublished 5 years ago in Poets
Have you ever wanted to be a tree?
Have you ever dreamed of being a tree? With roots that grew six feet underground, and although you felt alone there were always other trees around.
A Simple Bird to His Simple People
Raising my wings I stretched as the golden rays of the vibrant Sun defines the dawn hits the forest with luminous hue
Biyanke' KPublished 5 years ago in Poets
