An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Earth's bones felt the distal shift -it groaned mightily- Who dares awaken me from my slumber, Earth bellowed. A rumble from the depths of a mighty giant,
By Novel Allen11 months ago in Poets
<><><><><><><><><><>><<><><><><><><><><><><><> The warmth of summer past, once held in the glow in the trees and the smell of earth and worms that comes alive in the rain,
By Katherine D. Graham11 months ago in Poets
A forest of trees the lumberjack fells one at first shoulder arc heavy swings of beef thwack, thwack thwack, thwack electric crackles, silent as the ax meets
By Michele Nampalli11 months ago in Poets
The last crimson leaf clings to a silent branchโ its breath trembles as if unsure whether to fall or stay. In the distance,
By Takashi Nagaya11 months ago in Poets
I have carried this fire within me for longer than I can remember. It has warmed strangers on cold nights, lit pathways for those who were lost,
By Tim Carmichael11 months ago in Poets
Introduction This is my seventy-eighth piece inspired by Angie Livingstone's magnificent artwork. Our book, "The Art Of The Glittering Fox", is now available on Amazon throughout the world.
By Mike Singleton ๐ Mikeydred 11 months ago in Poets
I. The Mirror Isnโt Me (Philosophical โ AABB) . I look into the mirrorโs face, A quiet, silver, borrowed space. It copies me without a sound,
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast11 months ago in Poets
๐ช๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐ In my youth I rested under the arms of your branches Beneath the scent of your perfume none matches Your aromatic bouquet comforted me from ashes
By Salwa Samra11 months ago in Poets
Lustering scarlet like the Burning Bush in autumn, Mama was audacious in her lifetime. Unmatched in the beauty of her gaze, her mind, and her heart ... Then
By Alexis Wellmaker11 months ago in Poets
I keep you in a bowl I made one late November night. With thumbs that didnโt trust themselves and wrists that held on tight.
By Milan Milic11 months ago in Poets
The day thins out to parchment by the lane, A milky sun hangs low, without much gain. The air has teeth that test my naked throat.
Today was the last day of Indian Summer in Western North Carolina, land of mountains, rivers, and trees. I wanted to make love out in nature, under the birch, oaks, and pines,
By Harper Lewis 11 months ago in Poets
