nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
I want to be so many things
Once bright orange, nasturtiums will wlit and then turn golden, but we won’t notice. Bold crimson hibiscus hues will leak and fold inwards, resiliently reddening before turning pink or brown, but we won't notice. The bougainvillea will deadhead themselves before the wind comes to get them, while the rose petals dance on their way out and the jacarandas cremate themselves where we walk; and we will likely - still - not notice.
By Mingling with the Moon about a year ago in Poets
The Unwritten Legacy
Part VI: The Aftermath of Ash Clara’s decision to burn The Labyrinth of Echoes was not an exorcism—it was a catalyst. For years, she told herself she’d escaped Eleanor Marlow’s curse. Her novel, The Unwritten, became a cult classic, praised for its “feral originality.” Critics called it a manifesto against algorithmic creativity. Clara didn’t correct them.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
