An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
That dry whisper of landscape, where parched lips of crackling dirt purse upward to taste the tender kiss of water drops.
By Jamie Wilkinson9 years ago in Poets
Beneath the sheets of fog, Amongst the grass, Stretching for the tranquil sky. First a root, then a living aspect, It has a meaning,
By Laura-Jane Hall9 years ago in Poets
I don’t have to listen, I don’t even have to walk, I just go where the wind takes me. Through mountains and seas, Feeling the air on my face,
By André dos Santos9 years ago in Poets
Hollowed stumps rise from dirt The empty wood-tombs of giants Blackened bark pieces dangling Like spongy feeble ornaments
Sweet autumnal sap, sticking To maple walls of an hourglass, Unwilling, lingering, clinging, To the curvature of cracked bark.
A hardened shell of sticky fur, the likes of botched taxidermy writing on the winter roadside in shades of brown and red.
how do you search for the moon among night-stained trees? Sirius, Orion, Ursa Major, the minor key in circles, the moon by smaller circles
By Daisy Lennon9 years ago in Poets
THERE’S A REVOLUTION OF CHANGE GOING THROUGH OUR LAND PLANES ARE FLYING OVER MACHINE GUNS IN OUR HANDS BIRDS ARE FALLING FROM THE SKY
By David Avner9 years ago in Poets
Wonder, what wonder How the current pulls you under As you sink down farther You suddenly hear thunder You approach the clouds at the bottom of the sea
By Conjury9 years ago in Poets
I keep standing Farther and farther back Trying to push the waves back That roll ever in upon the sand Only to crash as wind
Goodbye Polar Bear! You were such a good Bipolar bear Even though you’d Think it’s not fair We all know you weren’t all there
Space Watches Me In different forms When I’m hiding Or when I’m crying The sky watches me When inside, I’m dying Or when I’m whining
By Jamal Hamadani9 years ago in Poets
