nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
The Last Storm
The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it the scent of rain that would never come. The sky, a dull shade of gray, loomed over the remains of a once-thriving city. Crumbling buildings stood like forgotten tombstones, their windows shattered, their walls cracked by time and neglect. The world had dried up, leaving nothing but dust and despair in its wake.
By Pranshu verma2 years ago in Poets
Echoes of Departure. AI-Generated.
Echoes of Departure: A Performance Poetry The winds of change whisper soft, Carrying echoes of a world aloft, Footsteps fade upon the ground, Yet in the silence, they resound. A shadow slips, a door creaks wide, We leave behind, with nowhere to hide, But in the air, the memories stir, A distant hum, a fleeting blur. The heart beats faster with each step, A journey started, a promise kept, Yet behind us, what do we leave? The spaces we loved, the lives we grieve. Echoes of departure call through the night, A soft reminder of what once felt right, But as the past slips into the haze, We turn away, and face the maze. We pack our bags with hopes and dreams, As reality bursts at the seams, The comfort of knowing fades to fear, For the unknown is now drawing near. But listen close to the quiet sound, The echoes still circle, spinning around, A past that clings, a truth we know— We never really leave, we only grow. The roads may stretch far, the skies may bend, But echoes remind us—this is not the end. In every goodbye, in every tear, The echoes whisper, "You were here." For departure is not a loss to mourn, It’s the space where new lives are born. The path we leave may feel unkind, But the echoes stay, etched in our mind. So step forward, though the echoes call, They remind us that we’ve lived through it all, And as we leave, with courage to start, The echoes of departure live in the heart.
By Samson E. Gifted2 years ago in Poets
The Tapestry of the Moral Mind
The Tapestry of the Moral Mind: A Performance Poetry We weave the threads, One by one, Strands of light, And shadows spun. A tapestry so intricate, The fabric of our soul, Woven with decisions, That make us whole. Each choice a stitch, Each thought a thread, Knots of guilt, And hope instead. In the loom of life, We find our place, Every action, every word, Leaves a trace. The mind— A canvas stretched so wide, Where right and wrong In silence collide. A whisper calls, "Choose what's true," But where do we go, When truth eludes? We journey deep, Through paths unknown, Guided by the morals We’ve always known. But does the path we tread Always lead to light? Or does darkness hide In the brightest sight? For in the threads, We bind our fears, And from the looms, We spin our tears. But also, there is love, And kindness bold, In every stitch, A story told. What is the mind, If not a guide, Telling us where we stand, And where we hide? So let us weave, With careful hand, The tapestry that shows Where we stand. In every stitch, In every line, We are the architects Of our design. A moral mind, So full of grace, That in its fabric, We find our place. Let us weave, Let us choose, The threads that lead To love, and not to lose. For in the tapestry, We find our soul, Woven with wisdom, That makes us whole.
By Samson E. Gifted2 years ago in Poets
