These Nature Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Nature Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
There is stillness in this chilly night
How peaceful is a planet that glimmers white
Where frost and moonlight weave a silver glaze
And sillhouetted trees are black as ink
Where the only sign of life are whiffs of breath
Let me stand and drink upon the sky,
Then rest my eyes upon the glory of the world
Upon these strange and unfamiliar hills
I give my thanks for how such soothes my soul
Winter has buried our world in alabaster white
Familiar landmarks wear a cloak of new disguise
Yet still the same are scattered thorny lights
Splattered wildly in the blackness of a sky
Winter has polished up the stars against the dark
Brilliant, new, until their points are thistle sharp
How peaceful is a planet so glimmering white
To stand in voiceless wonder and gaze
Do not speak, the crystal world would shatter
Too fragile to bear the weight of words
“A Flowers Wilt”
Witness the small existence
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.
A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you,
Until you pick the right flawless touch.
Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of----------
Inhale the fragrance,
Courtyard azure eyes,
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left.
A bully against arrogant, threw feminine perfumed veils.
Tulips waiting for better auspicious’ sky.
Asters claim the eclipse's dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness,
A sweet Lotus echo’
Slight yelps of agony, carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind.
For a split second, we feel pixie dust.
Channel the essential, it fades.
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.
Like candles and dew they stream and limber energy.
Opposing others of its humane,
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will,
A short story, gone stray!
The Flower wilts.
The gardener cries.
8) "One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star."
Look into my eyes
Follow me into a world of ecstasy
There and only there
Will you find the peace to unwind
Beautiful brown eyes not blue
Shady lids, stunning ocean view
Embracing every word
Hear the wind whispers your name
Come with me
Drown with me
Into the abyss of loving rain
Embrace this moment as I draw you in with words
Release you with the warmth -------I was there
I Share--I take
I LOVE--I HATE
Into my arms
I am the charm
Around your neck
Around your wrist
Listen to the voice from my beating heart
The freedom of touch
The freedom of speech.
Like the wind
I'll find my way
Into your heart
Arouse the cheerful energy
Of your insecurity and pen
Follow me into the sea
There we will fall into the deep
Build sand castles
Around dreams of reality
Slip into my aura light
Set to the rhythm of the oceanic night
Now, listen to the breeze
It's called out your name
It's only a matter of time----------------
You'll find yourself calling out...... mine
Dedicated to all my loving friends & fans :-)
The ship in the habor on silvery seas
Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon
Drifting in cold whispers of the night
Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees
In the loud echoes of the crawling winds
The brave ship nods its old head
Restless on the empty stage of the bay
When lonely stars bleed their light
On what was once earthly sublimity
Now silence and haunt lingers there
A graveyard of bones and sadness
Beside the desolate harbor
Rustling in the cold distance
Laboring with a haunting melody
That invades me in shivers of night.
The happy spaces of my mind
Then your sweet kiss would descend
Oh... your sweet kiss would descend
As a fragrant memory
Thawing the pain
In the frost of my heart.
My soul beckons your presence
But silence became my loyal friend
And Emptiness -
The sorrowing of my hours
That slithers through the night
As the brave ship nods its old head
Crackling and desolate
In silvered breaking waters
'Neath moon's limpid eyes
My hands descend
With crimson buds of April's flowers
To rest upon your tomb
Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''
Floating in the sky...
Changing patterns fill my eye...
What will you become?
Vagabond and wanderer...
Riding wind so high,
No matter where it blows.
You thumb your way to places
I have been and some I'll never know.
Changing shape and color,
Hiding your identity,
Until you speak with beauty and power.
First, a turtle, moving slowly.
Crawling and paddling in peaceful grace.
Next, a shark swimming swiftly
Consuming those around you.
Finally a dinosaur...
Your neck and tail extended
So I will know your name...
Forgetting you're a cloud.
Vagabond and wanderer...
Just vapor in the air, traveling everywhere.
So soft and sweet...
Then dirty and dark...you loudly speak.
Rain, thunder and lightening are your friends.
It's pleasant when your anger ends,
And rainbows arch to show me where you've been.
At night, your shadow hides the stars
And makes us wander where they are.
You choose to show selected few
The moon and stars...romantic you.
Sunrise...you meet the sun with colors of the day.
A canvas. A pleasant palette
Where light can play.
Sunset...you form a beautiful pillow
To gently catch the sun.
So rays may rest til morrow come.
Vagabond and wanderer...
Tomorrow let me see your face,
Another chance ...
To watch you dance...
Until you catch a ride...
When morning breaks in shades of wine...
with claret skies to blush the dawn...
I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
for this polished, dappled day
I will wait until the sun is high, and dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........for the quest begins,
to seek my small reward
It happens slowly...
gathering reason from an untamed mind
up into the meadow where the brambles climb
twisted and tangled, through the burgandy vines
deftly my fingers, while probing the maze
will reach for wild berries.....warm from the day
thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
Finger painting my faded old jeans
Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?
I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
plucking small bits of reason and sanity
taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
feeling alive, on this wild-flowered hill
Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler,
oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
dripping like blood drops onto my chin
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine,
as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine
Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
under clouds tinged vermilion
and a red crimson sun
For Frank's Contest: "Color"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtpPcmLKRFU Dancing Bird
Yesterday, I saw a shadow dart across my keyboard.
When I turned to look outside the window,
I spied upon a sparrow playing in the sun.
He was dancing in dramatic fashion
Across the shrubbery that was his home.
I could tell it was a male by his markings.
He was busy with his boasting, and proud.
No longer a fledge, he fluffed his feathers
To parade his prowess to all that might adore him.
Then, he pivoted into a pirouette, and pranced
Most skillfully across the length of a branch
And launched himself into flight.
Today, the sounds of birds cackling and chirping
Inside the shrubbery drew me to the window.
I could see three sparrows engaging in some fun and frolic.
Perhaps it was some flirtatious mating ceremony.
While most sparrows do look alike,
I’m sure that one of them was the dancing bird
I’d seen the day before. I watched briefly and smiled,
Remembering my own courtship and rivals
Who would fancy my choice as their own.
I returned to the monitor and before I could begin
My work, there was a loud thud upon the glass.
I gazed outside and there upon the ground was a small hawk
Clutching the dancer in his talons.
Tomorrow, this bird will not dance.
He will not sing or court another.
And as sparrows are many,
I will no doubt find another to enjoy from this vantage.
I chide myself for failing to warn him of the danger.
I was too busy with my own enjoyment to notice.
Now, I close my eyes and reconstruct those moments
As I attempt to resurrect the dancing bird,
And preserve him....forever.
You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
Like the willow that cradles
dawn's mist of unwept tears—
a practiced sorrow,
earned from decades of watching
the slow meandering river,
as it draws closer,
and the banks weather and fall.
I’m made of ten thousand layers, curvaceous but stretched thin,
How should I begin to reveal the shape of this maiden-lover-hag
and the landscape that few men view, behind the louvered door?
Archetypes coexist comfortably below and upon my shared skin,
First, the shrew makes minced meat of all your carnivorous ways,
Then, I become the shy virgin again until Venus takes the floor.
Morning, while I tend my child between wringing out wet dishrags,
I release the Mother Goddess, nurse and maid, maker of wee sighs,
Bending down to wipe a tear, kiss a brow, proudly raise a nation.
A chatelaine rattling keys, I walk the wide halls of imagination,
Strong and free, yet accepting of my femininity, moved to cry
by the joys and miseries of family life, twin dimensions of wife.
My hips have turned soft men to stone then have rocked them
home with urgency; the same hips that sheltered one yet born
now happily support a burdensome basket each laundry day.
Betwixt the ribs, there is still a girl, weaving daisies evermore,
Remembering ribbons tugged from her hair, a tomboy daughter,
Climbing trees, bloodied knees, leaving trails laced with laughter.
Slips out the hoyden, lacking grace and gentleness, too crass,
and the very clouds try to escape the look upon my crone’s face,
Flip and sassy, standing up for the weak, voicing world wrongs.
Daily, the lady, the broad, the nag and miss rewrite their songs,
They play their parts so aptly, leaving me and them quite satisfied,
A lifetime is horribly short, my sex gives all her love and worth,
And men quickly learn that no woman on this lovely earth
can simply be classified.
*Inspired by Alanis Morisette's "I'm a B_tch"
**For David's contest, I hope
***Began the write May 26, 2012, finished the write May 29, 2012
Left tall and dry, lies the pillared maize forsaken.
Barren fields of corn, stand row by row.
When yellow ears have long been gathered,
a dusty crop has paid it's garnered due.
The dry stalks bend and dangle stiff remains,
and autumn winds return to whip batons and play.
The quiet fields tune harps and violins,
making harmony from husks, with swaying stalk refrains.