An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
She rises not with a splash, but with silence — a shadow cleaving the silver skin of the sea. A breath. A plume. Then nothing.
By Ella Morganabout a year ago in Poets
A yellow scarf carelessly blows in the breeze A banner of summer, and the buzzing of bees As twirling sunlight dances freely through the trees
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
We no longer see what he could see Blue Sky Father reaching down Stroking Earth Mother with soft wind Stirring Waters into a dance
By PK Colleranabout a year ago in Poets
“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” Ali MacGraw says to Ryan O’Neal in the 1970 movie Love Story. In the final scene, O’Neal repeats the line. It’s good cinema.
By Rayyan Joseph about a year ago in Poets
The wings of white caps surround me, blowing kisses of froth and foam to the wind, the bubbling specks sparkling in the beam of
By Maddy Newtabout a year ago in Poets
Like the last teardrops from grief’s glassy eye, droplets roll across velvet leaves teetering, falling… - The wind sighs softly,
By R.C. McLeodabout a year ago in Poets
Upon waking Morning coffee in hand I open the sliding doors to the back deck Overlooking the serene river Peacefulness in the early morning
By Pamela Dirrabout a year ago in Poets
If life were a lazy summer picnic What would be your dish to bring? When you, and I, and all of our friends Pile into Janie's rusty old T-bird,
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
In the dark, dark forest Near the pine needle ground There was a vine winding Round and round and round On the vine were leaves
By R. D.about a year ago in Poets
It was young Life was steamy Condensed into a cloud That cloud, Young and dreamy, Never dreamt much out loud It let it build up
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets
They said he was too small to fight the jackal. Too slow to outrun the hawk. Too alone to claim his place in the sun-drenched wild.
When Light Finds Silence by [Osam khan] The sun does not shout— it whispers on the water, a hush over the quiet pond where time forgets to move.
By @HiddenHistoryabout a year ago in Poets
