An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Nestled in the verdant mountains, Among lush green trees, Is the house I've seen in my dreams..... I lean against the clear glass wall,
By Creative Hub9 years ago in Poets
Things just change,Said the night to the dawn.Things just change,Said the dusk to the day. And we all watched on. We all watched on,As the days passed by.We all watched on,As another night died.
By Luke Downing9 years ago in Poets
Watch the delicate flower Blooming on a Spring day Just to wilt in the Winter Knowing that this stage won't Last forever. The will and power
By Amelia Davis9 years ago in Poets
The waters roar The birds sound The waters turn brown Listen to the waters as they speak They Moan They Groan They cry
By kamecia tutt9 years ago in Poets
Wind breeze rustling up leaves. Earth and grass, under your feet. Waves like coffee mug foaming, glistening, sparkling tips.
By Ronald Williams9 years ago in Poets
Shining bright stars. Stars, burning like diamonds in the night. The sun’s radiant light. Planets orbiting the great light, of a
The golden dust that sweeps, Away every evening, No one seems to be noticing, The way it flies, And settles down along the
She closes her eyes and breathes.Deep. Reverent.An unspoken prayer of adoration. The sky above her is void.But endless.An infinite space dotted with specks of pale,iridescent light.
By Rhema-beth Boalch9 years ago in Poets
Minute glinting speckled diamonds surface in the sand concealing my ankles as beach's drenched brown layers cool my steamy feet.
By Linda Balboni9 years ago in Poets
Yellow flowers on a train track, Somewhere in Germany - Graffiti on the side-streets. Dawn light seeps through the windows
By Dakota King9 years ago in Poets
On the way to work, I saw an interesting sight. Although it was clearly day, this image represented the night. Like the darkened voids I've come to know so well.
By Paul Crocker9 years ago in Poets
I've noticed one thing when reading past work. There's an animal that drove the poets beserk. It's a reoccuring thing. And it had the burdens of the world on its wings.
