nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
H20
Many see water as a form of purity and cleanliness due to her beauty and transparency. She flows seamlessly, as if she didn’t even notice you while she plots her scheme to take us out one by one. She is magnificently, malevolently, slowly being destroyed as the forests before her, by human negligence and irresponsibility. Tossing our waste into her arms when the load is already overbearing, yet we think not of the day when she will attack, for it has happened before and does history not repeat itself. Let us revisit the year of 1912 when the marvelous and “unsinkable” ship set sail only to be snapped in half by the diabolical fist of the ocean as she opened her mouth and swallowed it whole, drowning thousands of simultaneous screams.
By Tyler Varney7 years ago in Poets
Time
Time. Time is constant. Time is merciless. Time will not negotiate. Time is stubborn. Time is this race you can’t stop running in. If every star in the universe blinked out of existence, time would be unphased, time would march forward. Before, during, and after life, time continues to move. Time doesn’t stop for anything. But time can feel. Time can see, see more than anything else. It sees life and death, it sees hope and fear, it sees everything. Time is not a lonely observer, It is the lonely observer. Time watches over, sworn never to interfere or change, only to remain constant and singular. Time knows everything there is to know. Time is god without hands. Time is heaven without hell. Time is love without loss.
By Aaron Wale7 years ago in Poets