An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
A piercing, shrill cry The wings beat firmly against the wind The beak, curved and sharp Pierces the prey with intensity.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Poets
The sky, a canvas vast and wide, Paints moods with clouds that drift and glide. A storm’s low growl, a thunder’s call, It shakes the earth, and hearts enthrall.
By Am@n Khan about a year ago in Poets
Today I was given a very gracious chance, One that struck me harder than a lance. A neighbors cherry tree had just born fruit,
By Toby Hewardabout a year ago in Poets
She’s working a third twelve hour shift in a row; her attention is as a stowaway hiding in a highly sanitized cabinet that’s plastered with tightly stretched plastic gloves.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
Slow mornings in the warming light, steam flowing out of my cup, my fingers kissed by the porcelain heat. * Music plays from the forest canopy,
By Krystyna Kwiatkowskaabout a year ago in Poets
Where whispering reeds sway, hear the earth's soft music play. Grounded energy will hold you fast, resilient, free, the storm will pass.
By Sun Beeabout a year ago in Poets
Grab a big, black bottle. Fill it completely with your usual nutrient drink. Leave your phone and any tracking devices behind.
The act seemed inconspicuous enough. In a quaint trinket shop on the outskirts of Teton Village in Jackson Hole, a valley nestled in the shadow of the Grand Teton range.
By Maddy Newtabout a year ago in Poets
~~🐦🐦⬛🦉 🪶 “A bird is safe in its nest – but that is not what its wings are made for.” — Amit Ray 🦅🕊️ ________________~~
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
Light breaks water as it breaks across the sky, painting a tableau of color; ocean waves breaking along with the morning sun.
By Mara Edwardsabout a year ago in Poets
When darkness felled Meadowview,Virginia, Dinner is on the table, Wondering what dinner was cooked, We all looked, Now we know,
By April Denise Stuartabout a year ago in Poets
Years back, I had the privilege of visiting this stunning place, Lake Tahoe. It was spring, but I remember the chilly wind.
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
