nature poetry

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

"Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey" by William Wordsworth
Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
By Am@n Khan about a year ago in Poets
Whispers of the Wild
In the heart of the forest, where whispers take flight, Ancient trees reach for stars in the soft velvet night. Their roots weave a story, of earth’s tender care,
By Am@n Khan about a year ago in Poets
Midnight Thoughts
Sometimes at medianoche, when sueño evades me, or I am burning the midnight oil, I sit by the ventana and watch the world outside.
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
Today's Bird- the Blue Grosbeak
~~🐦🐦🐦‍⬛🪶This is my continuing daily series that explores the avian world one bird at a time. "I would like to paint the way the world sings." -- Claude Monet________________
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
Hope Sown
She waltzes in and Steals the show, all colorful But yet quite dainty 🌻 All the while quietly Insinuating herself With a peaceful flair
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Poets
A Morning Magpie Thief
A Morning Magpie Thief I caught him again, that black and white thief, with the beady eye, and no shame to speak of. He darts in,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Dance Of The Solstice Spirits
Introduction This is my forty-fourth piece inspired by Angie's work, and I am grateful that she has allowed me to do this.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
The Honey Pot Of Luck
The Honey Pot Of Luck I keep it close, this jar of gold not for sugar, not for show but for the way it seems to hold a kind of pull the old folks know
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Girl Who Killed The Bees
The Girl Who Killed The Bees She was nine when she found the first hive, buried deep in the brambles behind the shed. A slow hum, low and golden,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Apotropaic
An apotropaic prosaic mosaic Founding member of Melancholics Synonymous Happiness taunts us As our ego haunts us A dauntless existence of seeing all and none at once
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Just A Bee On A Flower
Just A Bee On A Flower The bee lands gently, not rushed, not frantic. Its tiny legs find hold on the soft petal. A moment held, quiet, almost still,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
When the roses bloom
There is a moment when the rose is already there and already smells, but it has not yet bloomed. There is a moment when you already want to smell it, but it still has so much to bloom and to tell us something that few will have the patience to notice, smell, and feel.
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda about a year ago in Poets