An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
A splendorous Symphony Of planets Waltz through The heavens No two The same The Terrestrials The Jovians Spin to the
By Colleen Waltersabout a year ago in Poets
From far away , I see only a blue thing, A body of water You look lone and single, When I explore you O my! You are a home of beauty and splendor!
By Irene Mugang Narewec about a year ago in Poets
In hush of night when dreams still sigh, A breath of gold sweeps through the sky. The stars, once bold, now slowly fade, As morning weaves its shining braid.
By Wow Geniusabout a year ago in Poets
[Verse] The air feels crisp the trees start to turn Golden leaves whisper secrets they’ve learned The sun dips low painting skies with fire
By Blake Robertabout a year ago in Poets
Love is a gamble. But I’m not willing to take that bet. The odds are thin, and the downfall is massive. I’m not risking myself against numbers stacked so high against me.
By Amberabout a year ago in Poets
A place to go up and down A place that's not profound Step by step its built by motion There even some in the ocean One by one they carry precision
With open maw and wider eyes, I gaze into kaleidoscopic array of wild roses before me, within me. Wild roses of magenta, white, and dusty lilac:
By Chaia Leviabout a year ago in Poets
I stared into the gray of you; it matched what I saw in my own reflection. Dreams soaked in salt air, as if they could be preserved -
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
The moon laughs at me outside my window, While I nurse my sore head; In the middle of the night, I found myself upside down!
By Carol Ann Townendabout a year ago in Poets
A single green breath pushes through salted silence— sand-swept, sun-beaten, where no garden has ever been and no gardener waits.
By Carolina Borgesabout a year ago in Poets
Introduction This is my thirty-ninth piece inspired by Angie's work, and I am grateful that she has allowed me to do this. This is a villanelle.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
I dream of becoming the linen sheets hung in the wind, Basking in the warm sun of a spring that promises summer With words that taste like honey and have no shelf life.
By Silver Dauxabout a year ago in Poets
