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Confusion Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Confusion

These Confusion Nature poems are examples of Nature poems about Confusion. These are the best examples of Confusion Nature poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme |

Remnants

Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years

And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....



Details | Free verse |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Free verse |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 


Details | Rhyme |

Rising from the Ashes

RISING FROM THE ASHES

Wordancer


The eyes of the dragon seen through the trees
Mesmerize minds and cause bodies to freeze.
Which way to go, which way to turn;
No time for questions when the trees burn.

Just jump in the cars and flee towards town
But the road is cut off as the wind swings around.
No way to go, no way to turn; 
An acceptance of fate, as the trees burn.

The fence of the paddock does not impede
The scorched car that flattens it, picking up speed
Away from the flames, away they must turn
Desperate with fear, as the trees burn.

The breath of this beast lights fires with no flame
The heat of its breath burn all just the same.
It’s tail flames on, it’s head, see it turn
Back towards town, there are more things to burn.

With fire, smoke and tears these folk have learnt
To rise from the ashes; spirits singed; not burnt
A call for assistance, now the schools turn 
To grey squares of ashes; and more townships burn.

The calls went out across this wide country
And the offers came from all and sundry.
What do you need? What can we bring you?
They were told, so they went; what else would they do?

Hand towels, toothbrushes, soap and shampoo
To clean away ashes; the soot, and tears too
Through fire and smoke, these folk have learnt
To rise from the ashes; spirits singed; not burnt

The towns’ people will labor as long as there’s need,
They’ll listen and learn and plant as they weed,
While their houses and schools, fire stations too,
Rise from the ashes, and stand good as new.  

The February Dragon has left for a time,
But hope that heals the scars in the minds
Of the people there, is strong and alive,
They have rebuilt their towns, their dreams and their lives.  

© 


Details | Rhyme |

When Sheep Collide

'Tis strange where we should get the notion
That poetry expressed in motion
Should within the human form reside.
When nature gives us many chances
Unpractised and ephemeral dances
Like in a muddy field when sheep collide

Truth is, that nature's not so humble
And doesn't mind the dancer's stumble
There's nothing that it ever seeks to hide
Uncaring it leaves all revealed
And is not shamed if one small field
Has crazy sheep and one long muddy slide

They're mad, they're bad, they're having fun
Those naughty sheep and every one
Is doing what convention has denied
The hillside's muddy, wet and slick
With crazy sheepies sliding quick
Down to the bottom, down where sheep collide.

Many count good nature's fare
The birdsong and the country air
Among the wonders of the countryside
But strange delight can yet be found
In woolly bodies sliding round
A simple muddy field where sheep collide.

While nature guides celestial spheres
In cosmic dances, it appears,
With majesty the earthborn are denied
Down far beneath in mud and grass
A sheep slides on its woolly a***:
A sense of fun, though not a sense of pride.


Details | Verse |

Secretly Obsessed

Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head

Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much

I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I 
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care

I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that 
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos 
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust 
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....






Details | Ballade |

Why aren't we happy

Why aren’t we happy?

What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.


And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?


If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.

6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.


Details | Verse |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Couplet |

The Bird Sings

If I were a bird, would you clip my wings
then cage me away with pretty things?
And, if my wings were to be clipped
why not just burry me within a crypt,
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
For to have wings that cannot soar,
then why not nail me to the floor?
Tonight I shall make my final swan song
knowing I have been locked away so long.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant so kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So still the caged bird, she sings
without her sky, without wings.
Sometimes laments, sometimes sighs,
sometimes she whistles her own reprise.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So then curious is it, the caged thing
who finds she has the heart to sing?
Because it would seem a great strain
to be caged seems twisted and profane,
for a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
When asked, why do you sing, bird?
The answer is a simple word,
hope, for escape from behind these bars
that keep me caged from the stars.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
Birds should have no master, no kings
and love cannot be clipping wings.
But now it seems I must live confined,
in this hand crafted cage of your design,
but a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So must I wait for these wings to heal
and relearn how the wind may feel.
If I must be caged, still my heart sings
of the day I can again use my wings.


Details | Free verse |

the flying monkey

there once was a flying monkey who didn't know what to eat.  so he ate the old scraggly poop hanging from his butthole.  His friends thought he was weird but i didnt. i do that all the time.  it tastes good.


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