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Loss Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Loss

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

Details | Rhyme | |

Why The Willow Weeps

The Willow did not always weep,
in summer sun and breeze.
But sorrow once did quickly creep,
amongst the bark and leaves.

For long ago a maiden fair,
would bask beneath the tree.
Each day as she had rested there,
the tree would always see.

The beauty of her freckled face,
the softness of her skin.
The sweetness of her simple grace,
her love it hoped to win.

Reaching out to take the chance,
in all its strength with care.
Dropping low the limb and branch,
to shade the maiden fair.

To hide her from all pain and strife,
to cradle her within.
To help her through her gentle life,
from now until the end.

But soon she cease to come and lay,
beneath the now bowed limb.
Her heart it seems had flown away,
as hope now starts to dim.

So lonely was the branching Willow,
that in sorrow it would stay.
Forever bent and bowed down low,
until this present day.


By Tom Clark, Copyright 2008
Email:   tclark97045@yahoo.com
Website:  www.tomclarkarts.com


Details | Free verse | |

A Practiced Sorrow

You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.

Frozen
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
approaching death.

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.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Forest

The night like clouded charcoal scorched,
A sea of trees with starlight torched.
A night where laws are sound asleep,
Anarchic prayers running deep.

Alone I hear the wretched screams
Of screeching trees... or so it seems.
The cries protract into the air,
Without a sound they disappear.

The shrieks have bartered now anew
With sounds of meat and boney chew
Discharging from the faithless trees
And snarling with my memories.

But creatures' gruesome growlings drown.
I smell the gunpowder and frown.
The waging sounds of war advance
In battle stance with gun and lance.

The sounds of bleeding men enhanced,
The sounds of fate and time and chance,
No sooner do they cross the trees
Than fade as all their voices freeze.

But worse than bombshell sounds occur;
The storms, the winds, the thunder stirs.
The roars that shake the forest's roots,
The flowers, soil, and passion fruits

A rainy resonance restocks
The grass the air the woods the rocks
And washes with its dancing tingle
All the sounds that intermingle:

A dreaming forest in the night,
And trapped within its fanfare fright,
It chokes me in its thunder thrill
And hangs me in the silence still,
And hangs me in the silence still.


Details | Didactic | |

Speak of thee

                                        He is above us in the clouds 
                                run through the fields and speak of thee
                                              He will grow roses

                                       I will be the stem of the roses 
                                       for I shall never leave your soil

                                     You will be the tree I grow beneath 
                                             and he will be our rain.


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 | Couplet | |

A Meadow's Sigh

The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.

Green and warm, full of life, the forest's skirt, the Maid's delight,
where rabbits dwell in lovers’ dells, a dream in morning light.

Gold and bright, full of life, the forest's skirt and Knight's delight;
life lies in grasses high, where lovers sleep and passion cries.

White and fair, full of life, the forest's skirt of pearly white;
burrowers sleep in bowers deep, hearths alight on chill nights.

The meadow's breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew;
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.

The men have made the meadow home, no rabbits now play there,
no deer appear so near the roads for cars bring them dispare.

The meadow was home to many things, butterflies, birds on wing,
yet, few can dwell where men reside, the forest's skirt swept aside.

The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet

Gripping pen in desperation
for just one word to appear
An hour passes, two, then three
til the day's end is near
Just when I feel like giving up
something sparks within
as thoughts are put in order,
I see it's half-past ten
There can be no stopping now
the words would quickly fade
I won't give in until I know
a masterpiece is made
Here is doggie to my right
and kitty in my lap
Patiently waiting once again,
for me to rid my thinking cap
I pat their heads from time to time
so they know I still care
But to stop right where I'm at,
oh no, I wouldn't dare!
The words are flowing smoothly 
and now I'm going strong
Looking up, I realize,
I've been up all night long
The sun is slowly peeking
above the mountains grand
Aching back, slits for eyes,
there's no feeling in my hand
I may now be a zombie
with a body tired and worn
But, I feel a sense of gladness
another poem has been born!


Details | Free verse | |

Lightning Chased Thunder

Into the mist which settles upon the waters
Tempered elements connect and clash
Each vying for dominance within their domain
Lightning chases Thunder throughout forlorn skies
The harder she cracks her brilliant, whip the further he runs
In pain he roars through pitch black skies
Man stands in awe of the battle displayed 
And the heavens hang low and cry pouring rain

~*~

Note:  Inspired by "The perfect Storm" Very sad ending, yet, one of my favs.


Details | I do not know? | |

December to May

The land still held in wint'ry grasp.
Against the chill my breath did rasp.
When for a moment my eyes did see,
A fair maiden dancing nakedly.
Nary a stitch nor thread on her wond'rous shape.
As she beckoned I could naught but gape.
When she spoke her voice was a melody,
Promising things that I only dreamed.
I went to her in bewildered awe,
And this is suddenly what I saw-

White roses tangled in her flaxen tresses,
A thousand poppies at her feet,
Fairies danced in diaphinous dresses,
With sunlight was the scene replete.

On she led o'er field and meadow.
Where she trod the spring would show.
With love and joy my heart did swell,
For this maiden had rescued me from winter's hell.
For hours we laughed and sang and such.
I would gasp and tremble at her every touch.
Not once did I think to inquire her name,
Nor did I ask from whence she came.
We rested at length 'neath a stately oak,
And this I found when I awoke-

Gone was my maiden and the spring she brought,
Frozen were the fields and meadows,
Simply a dream, or so I had thought,
Yet clasped in my hand, a single white rose.

I return each day to this lonely place,
Hoping to glimpse my fair maiden's face.
Low does the sun sink in the winter sky,
When I turn home with a tear in my eye.
For once again she has neglected to show,
And left me this wretched ice and snow.
Yet I musn't believe that she does not care,
Lest I should let my heart despair.
For she will return again one day,
Turning as she goes, December to May.


Details | Haiku | |

Texas Wildflower Haiku : Widow's Tears

sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse

Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on 
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning 
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly 
approachable. [1]

[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson


Details | Sijo | |

Cenote

Glimpse an empire in sweated palm burdened with pain centuries old; 
Horrors and stalagmites hang in beautiful tragedy Gods have told:
Within soil surrounding bluest calm, such memories you hold.


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 | Verse | |

A Starfish In Her Hair

The tide rises within me soaked with failure's longing.
The sea siren's reach, out across the land to me.
The moon added its pull and speaks of not belonging.
I am drawn on astral screams to the deep dark sea.

small waves submerge
my pale ankles to my knees --
gulls cry

The weight of clothes so cumbersome impedes,
arching down, I let go, each bit of cloth from me.
Salt sea in, the salt sea out, my life concedes
choosing to leave, this go round, in the deep dark sea.

open eyes stare
into a silty brown brine --
bubbles rise

Sinking-down, passively, sadness abating 
Strands of silvered seaweed, chill, gently beckoning me
my limbs entwined in death's sweet embrace abiding
minnows greet me with a kiss, from the deep dark sea.

starfish 
in her hair --
fog horn
 


Details | Free verse | |

Starry Nights

Defiled by the city lights,
the stars no longer shine so bright.
I can't try to count their numbers,
or wish upon their falling beauty.
Life is dulled deep in the night
by the bustling busyness,
the need to succeed,
to forget about the splendor,
that we can no longer see.
Nature is destroyed
as industry progresses day by day,
and every night I'm mourning,
because the stars have faded away.


Details | Free verse | |

Ephemeral

Ephemeral
 
Tis not mystifying, though disheartening, 
that we are simply passing shadows
…. a mere breath exhaled…. transitory
 Sunrises numbered at first drawn breath
 though each stand of hair is lovingly counted
 
A lone flower in a field of waving grass
 will pass unnoticed, once flourished.
 The wind becoming the only witness, 
to its existence, as its scent is carried
 across the meadow....fragrance dissipating
 
Swift waters of life slowly-- but surely--
 wear away our most precious of stones
 their features gently altered with time
 until the final last grain deteriorates 
finding rest, peacefully, on a distant shore


NOTE:  This poem was inspired by the book of Psalms as well as Nature and MY FAITH.


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 | Rhyme | |

Where Has Dad Gone, Mama Dear

Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear 
And mad old Abraham

That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire

And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity

So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in

For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar

But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?

Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me 
Do not visit places where you know you should not be

The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Loosing It

  < Early morning,

   Its rainy and dark,

   Quit dull,

   Cloudy and gray,

   Emotions flowing not,

   So dim and sadden,

   Stuck in a zone,

   Feeling all alone,

   Suddenly blacken,

   Now dressed in lace,

   And black satin,

   Emotions flowing all over,

   Yet still lost,

   Dazed and amazed,

   Felt crushed pancake flatten......>






Details | Ballade | |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


Details | Free verse | |

in memory of a rose

your velvety blossoms
slowly withers away
once tender roots
have now decayed
at the thought i cringe
such insidious disease
gradually infects
each and every leaf

moldy black spots
crinkled stained edges
your magnificent growth
gradually suppresses
your unsurpassed beauty 
now fuzzed up and gray
crinkled debilated stems
a dull distorted array

shoots barely opened
leaves now curled and bent
such unforgettable moment
your petals soon descend
your spicy scent has drifted
such sickly brittle vein
Flowers now discolored
and left to thrive on pain

after months of nurturing
your once marvelous display
the thought of you slowly wilting
has left me in dismay



*My theme is taken from Constance's Poem "in Memory of a rose"*


Details | Haiku | |

Lost at Sea

The sea is unkempt
Unwary sailors regret
Thar mate has been swept


Details | Haiku | |

Autumn

A wisp of white cloud
On a breeze, that cools the land
Autumn is soon here


Details | Rhyme | |

Different Hearts, Beat on Different Strings

How different we are
And in the way we act
In love and romance
A heart filled pact
 
It can start out so good
To a thunderous applause
And fall by the wayside
Just because
 
Corners are turned
Sometimes we go the same way
And sometimes round the same corner
We can go slightly astray
 
At the start of it all 
To the table we bring
But somewhere along the road
Different hearts, beat on different strings



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-3.php


Details | Epitaph | |

Whispers Of An Angry Wind

With blaring voice,

You've stolen her life away.

I think,

My heart shall ne'er mend.

Caused you the trees to snap,

And sway.

Now the softness of your voice,

Scarcely causes the grass

to bend.