An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
It begins as a whisper— not from the trees, but from the air itself. The last leaves tremble like paper secrets, their edges crisp, gold fading to ghost.
By Erick Galaviz11 months ago in Poets
Dear Moon, The night she left, the house forgot how to breathe. Even the clocks slowed, as if time itself refused to move on.
Dear Moon, dark and glowing I’ve finally arrived to raise my humble head to you. And as I do, I hear the howls and hoots of other humbled heads. It is not only me you speak to.
By Christopher Falcione11 months ago in Poets
You have followed me through lifetimes— through smoke, moss, and bone, through the long hush between stars. You remember, don’t you,
By Stacey Mataxis Whitlow (SMW)11 months ago in Poets
pretty leaves upon the trees out swaying in the wind paint a picture of a different life that once was lived calmer and more colorful, they swayed in years of old
By angela hepworth11 months ago in Poets
Though the first frost has yet to form Winter makes his presence known The nights stretch longer, a chill sets in The world grows quiet and dim
By Jaye Ruggiero-Cash11 months ago in Poets
This night is dark With no end in sight This climate growing unbearable As we search for light Fear plagues our communities
The air smells like wet bark and cozy roots and closing things (I shut my heart like a winter window to block the smell of snow)
By Ella Bogdanova11 months ago in Poets
Dear Moon, Welcome to day’s end. Soon you will be bright above my head. In the release of purple chords, Light of day, continues through my mind as darkness falls,
By Mindy Reed11 months ago in Poets
I have always ached with the perfect beauty of you, Wept until I could not understand why the tears fell. . I have always ached with these words unspoken,
By Silver Daux11 months ago in Poets
Moon I once adored you, I thought your beauty The grandest In The sky But lately I’ve come to realize In my heart I never loved you
By Sam Spinelli11 months ago in Poets
Night’s fire no longer crackling Morning sun on limber saplings Bows taut, snap like gingerbread Wait for the dawn to get cracking
By Sean A.11 months ago in Poets
