nature poetry

An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.

The Grandest of Trees
Like the grandest of trees I was once but a seed I sprouted and grew Intrinsically I knew how to From a fetal curl Tiny threads unfurled
By B.Me about a year ago in Poets
One Rainy Afternoon
Sight of millipede Resting on a muddy field Coils in solitude ------------------------------------ That's huge and amazing.
By Parvathi Jabout a year ago in Poets
Missed Connections
1) Starbucks; Newport Beach, CA: Your hair was too blond, your tan too bronze, your teeth too white, and your tits too big. You spoke in infantile squeaks, and ended sentences, both declarative and interrogative alike, with verbal curtsies. You sent your order back thrice. I was the hairy-chested, gin-blossomed Palm Beach prick in the salmon polo shouting at the mousey 16YO cashier over sold-out scones. I'm a moneyed malignant narcissist in the market for a purely transactional relationship. I pronounce “w” words with an “h” preface. I drive my Tesla like I just left a 3-martini lunch, which is often the case. Of course, “TRUMP” bumper stickers adorn it. Stick around, you’re sure to see a COP kick my ass when I try to impose my “master of the universe” delusion upon him as he's cuffing me for DUI.
By Chris Zabout a year ago in Poets
The Weight of What Still Moves
The creek spoke first, not in words, but in the careful way it curled around my boots, soft-footed, as if trying not to startle the quiet.
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Poppies and Buttercups
Scattered in the woods Without care, wildflowers bloom Dancing in sunlight Buttercups — Photo by Susan Fourtane A/N: Historically, poppies symbolise eternal sleep, death, and resurrection in myth and poetry.
By Susan Fourtané about a year ago in Poets
The sun is medicine
The paleness of my skin glows, As the suns soft rays caress my skin. The cold flees from my veins, And I wonder where this warmth has been.
By Lane Burnsabout a year ago in Poets
Silver
Serenaded by sanguine seagulls I sprawl in the shadless heat of the sand. The sun sparks in shining streaks across the sea and I squint at the sight and smile at how it sparkles like sapphire turned molten, smelted by the noonday scorching mood of Sol.
By Obsidian Wordsabout a year ago in Poets
Stone Pine
I love plants a lot, and it’s my constant effort, to find their identities and traits. So, I saw this unusual tree near a park in a neighboring city.
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
Still, it Shimmers
The rain didn’t stop all at once— it just gave up slowly, like even the sky got tired of carrying too much. Last night was loud.
By Annie Edwards about a year ago in Poets
I Still Pray for Peace”
The world feels heavier these days. You can hear it in the silence after an explosion. You can feel it in the pause between headlines
By Atifa Iqbalzadaabout a year ago in Poets
Stop, Hear My Plead
Hey listen to me I need you to stop feeling bad It makes me sad So please make me glad Stop hurting I know you're sheading
By L.I.Eabout a year ago in Poets
The Quiet Between My Words Screams the Loudest
The Quiet Between My Words Screams the Loudest I have never been the loudest voice in the room. I’m the one who pauses before I speak, who weighs every word, who often bites her tongue and lets others take the space I was never taught to claim. People think quietness means peace. That silence means agreement. That the absence of words equals the absence of thought.
By Hamidabout a year ago in Poets