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Nature History Poems | Nature Poems About History

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

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Details | Narrative | |

Pride of the Motherland

Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak

Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands 
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept

Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity

Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!


Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010


Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Free verse | |

- Once upon a time -

Out of love foretold
in thousands
secret raptures from the old
Illusions coves for their powerful voices
A place where our ancestors once walked

Where trees listening
and disperse seeds of hope
Creation marvelous portrait
About the harmony - it is said
that it can develop strong band

It is a reality that can
compare with the wildest imagination
Ancient villages built of marble and stone
Wind chimes a rhythm that beckons
Mystery melody that asks us to join

A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved 

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

Details | Free verse | |

Children of the Divine Wind

Many times the ocean has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea, an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see. The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide. The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones. Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform. With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested tested by the hand of He, tested and found worthy. The children of the Divine Wind rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Rhyme | |

Half-Lit Moon

Haze up in the heavens encircles this orb.
Half-dark, half-light, shines from above.
Twinkles of light appear to absorb.
Fractions of darkness within lighted glove,

Speaking to lovers held in each other’s arms.
Answering questions of science to some,
Floating around spreading blessed charms,
Listening close at times, hearing a hum.

Lovers for centuries, graciously, captured by,
Sweet serenity and magical mystery,
Others entranced with secrets, which fly.
From words written and spoken in history.

Satellite, orb, lady, they are all the same.
Mythical goddesses, gripped in flame.
These tales have spread so many games.
This object seen most nights has no shame.

Copyright © cecil hickman

Details | Free verse | |

History never dies

With a squint of an eye my heart skips its beat
Beneath roots leaves and trees
Hides what Mother reclaimed

Copyright © jimi peranteau

Details | Rhyme | |

The Highlanders Estate

My door is open
I welcome you
To my Highland lands
Off heathers and hue
Cross the bridge
Of centuries old
To my castle of grey
In it's regal fold
Stand with me
In the great hall of my past
Like generations
Us Fraser's will last
Climb spiral stairs
To a turreted tower
Look out on my lands
As the northern lights shower
Turn to the left
Look out to the fields
They stretch for miles
Many harvests they yield
The moat leads off
Into a river so pure
With it's salmon ladder
Caught to mature
Lets take to the horses
To forests of pine
They carpet the glens
In greenery fine
Centuries old
Camp fire and cheer
Weeks away
Chasing the deer
The welcome we received
When we reached home
Venison and pheasant
From our Highland roam
Off the great hall
To the room of the past
Where tartans and paintings
My ancestral past
Open great fireplace
Lights up the room
Claymores and armour
In past battles bloom
The evening draws
Arrival of guests
To feast on the roam
For the food we are blessed
Midnight approaches
Bedtime retire for all
As i look out my window
In awe at it all

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees

(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Narrative | |

A World on Fire

We live today in a world of great tumult
And of rising uncertainty and anxiety 
Which pervade the world stage like a cancer

Despite soaring technological advances
Our environment and our home Earth
Are bearing an unimaginable burden

People are wondering what must be done
To right these wrongs and adjust our course
Before we turn the corner to “No Return”

Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, and War 
Are still with us today since the beginning
Of time and are mankind’s greatest shame

God may be with us intellectually
But mankind must be self-reliant
To survive an inattentive, distant deity

People see answers to these enigmas
Sounds are made, echoes are heard
But nothing comes back in response

Frustration reigns supreme for many 
Fear and anxiety multiple all concerns
There can never be easy answers


Tyranny still reigns alive in many countries
As the actions of tin-eared dictators abound
And are on ample display for all to see 

Poverty is still a shameful, terrible curse
Which afflicts the most unfortunate
And is paid lip service by the wealthy

Disease is a scourge still in our world
And still felt by those most in need
And never enough is done to change this

War is the ultimate insult to mankind
And its wide-felt swath and affliction
Plagues yet our modern, enlightened world 

What to make of all these challenges
Is not easy for any of us to digest
And let alone understand why

Yet understand, comprehend we must
If we want a better world for all to live in
A Sisyphean task at its very best

Man still holds the key to make change
Positive and real for our troubled Earth
But can it ever be really so in the end

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
Schoeningen, Germany (October 16, 2014) 
(Tercet unrhymed poetic format)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Lyric | |

The Old Homestead

Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 

The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.

© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds

Details | Quintain (English) | |

One of the Wonders

by just looking at it from the distance a picturesque view captures right away our hearts a stair like going up to heaven on its magnificent appearance a cogent power beckoning every tourist to visit and become a part of this historical place and one of our world’s beauty spots the People’s Republic of China stands tall with pride and glory in possession of this gigantic dragon-formed and walled stair a product of their ancestors’ concerted effort to protect their country from heartless invaders who want to ruin without care so, they’d built it with masonry and rocks strong enough and fair let’s all go and experience this great and wonderful place anytime of the year but winter is still the best, I bet climbing on every step of the walled stair with nuance pace so lofty but a gentle breeze will extricate ourselves from sweat more power and energy will be saved and it’s a challenge a bit Great Wall of China has been built and renovated until Ming’s Dynasty a creative work of art by the Chinese and their great masterpiece along the mountain sides to the top winding up with majesty so impressively built as if trying to reach an endless place a breathtaking beauty inviting us to capture tenacious memories climbing on Great Wall is so much fun and enjoyable a stop on each pillar shows a full view of the scenery giving us a great tour a part along our way up is a long chain of padlocks for lovers and couples an everlasting love, peace, bliss and everything they’ll wish for believing that leaving a padlock and key there, wishes will be granted for sure the most challenging and rewarding part is the incentive we’ll get if we climb and reach the peak, a certificate for us to remember so, to make our experiences with travel expenses commensurate let’s all gather our strength and be determined as great explorers for us to get one of the most precious moments in life to cherish forever
April 8, 2013 Note: The composition of this poem was also inspired by my wonderful experience in this place when we’d our school tour last March 7-10, 2011 at Beijing. Both great happiness and terrible sadness I’ve felt that time. My happiness to see the beauty of the place but terrible sadness was deep inside of me because I was thinking of my father who was already at his critical health condition and, I went back home to visit him just after coming back from our joyful tour. First Place Contest: Seven Wonders Judged: 4/25/2013 Sponsor: Greatest Poet Poet Destroyer

Copyright © Leonora Galinta

Details | Couplet | |

Mother Nature Cries

Mother Nature Cries

Mother Nature cries now her deep tears of true sadness,
For all the years of Man’s sad shame and utter madness.

Man has brought this lovely lady quite often to tears,
By his poor and pathetic care of our Earth over the years.  

Mother Nature’s been with Man now it seems forever,
And he does nothing at all and always tells her never!

Man’s climate sins are so tragic and always most telling,
And all he does is bitch and moan, and keeps on yelling!

Man’s span of existence is short in our Earth’s long life, 
And all he’s done is corrupt, pollute and caused her strife! 
Mother Nature cries at this sad tragedy Man has thus wrought;
She knows his life on Earth may be short, and learn he’ll Not! 

Mother Nature will adapt and evolve over time with no problem,
And she knows Man’s adaptability to change may be a problem.

Perhaps Man will learn this sad lesson here before all is too late,
And seek climate harmony in all he does and make positive his Fate!

Mother Nature cries—yet this can change with Man’s redemption,
If Man becomes Earth’s Good Steward and lives by God’s direction!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved - May 3, 2015
(Rhymed Couplet)

*Originally completed for my new book on February 12, 2015.

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Couplet | |

Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd

                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun

                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry

                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat

                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers

                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates

                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues

Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Haiku | |

Since the Dawn Of

Winters flows recede
Unknown depths reveal the past
Strata shows time lines

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |


Beneath the fathom’s deep, in wreckage’s graveyard
Of the forgotten, here the broken bones of ships lie still,
Covered in a forest of seaweeds greenery.
Corrosion steel hauls ripped wide open, lay against ancient
Wooden beams from vessels voyages, of long ages distant past.
Faded names, render no clues reference, for the maritime detective.
But tragedies lost vessels, did ride upon the frothy foam, 
And spray above, sailing the big blues timeless tides.
Nay Poseidon's toll ti’s payed in sailors flesh, melting
Humanities dreams beneath his drowning waves.
Beauties fare, and proud are they, the crippled, 
Swallowed whole by the aquatic storms avenging rage.
Mercy's mere-angels weep thus, for the mortal souls lost,
Guiding them towards their spiritual resting place below,
And welcoming them unto their fathers kingdom beneath,
The abysses darkening depths.
Torn asunder is mankind's well hued craft, shattered
Into bits pieces, large to small, a glittering shards
Rain of destruction. crashing into the muddy bottom,
Of the under belly of the sea itself.
Deaf are the silent cry's of men, whom leave only
Bubbles streaming upwards, as their last epitaphs
Tribute for thy existence.
The devil's gardens, swim these black waters,
Turning them crimson red, sharp toothed monsters,
Feasting upon carrion discarded left overs.
Dark figures, phantom creatures, lurking just below,
The briny surface, awaiting for the Poseidon’s next victim,
To join the graveyard of ships.
Faded are their names, forgotten titles, as the paint
Peels, on the once majestic vessels.
Now they remain wreckage’s ruins, abandon to the
Mercy of erosion masterful hand of destruction.
Hear the sounding clanging of bells, whom ring in
Silences of troubled waters abode, it is the cracking 
Of doom, beware thy young lad, he whom seeks fortunes
Favor abroad, for only fools test the might of the sea,
Against thy own grit and survive.
Thus thee shed a tear for the fallen, dear lad, 
For no other will on the dead’s behalf, in thine
Cemetery of the graveyard of ships. no passages
Return tickets are given.



Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Rhyme | |


People are commonly different
Symbol of diversity piece
Pure race doesn’t exists

Color and creed are just an identity
Believe only in human history
God sculptured them from clay

People are equally created
Having many opposites
But respecting others taste

When everyone is treated equal
Nothing appears but peace in hand
Discrimination, disunity and, suffering won’t be born anymore

Written to advocate to suppress racism
Bandar Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia
10:30-11:00 am, November 13. 07, Tuesday

Copyright © Neldy Jolo

Details | Concrete | |

The Scottish Thistle

I am the Scot's thistle The emblem of my proud country it has been our valiant pride for so many years \\!!!!!// \\\!!!!!/// \\\\!!!!!!!//// ====!!!!!!!==== ////!!!!!!!\\\\ ///!!!!!\\\ //!!!!!\\ !!! \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" The thistle has been the national emblem of Scotland since the reign of Alexander III (1249 - 1286) and was used on silver coins issued by James III in 1470. According to the legend, an invading Norse army was attempting to sneak up at night upon a Scots army encampment. During this operation one barefoot Norseman had the misfortune to step upon a Scots Thistle, causing him to cry out in pain, thus alerting Scots to the presence of the Norse invaders. My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Oh, what a Shape I'm in! " contest. Not easy doing the above, i nearly went cross eyed.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Ballade | |


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.

Copyright © Andre Sanders

Details | Personification | |

One Valley Oak

The day I died,  a village cried
and tears washed to the river's side

I meant the world, to my survivors
A Valley Oak......yes, that was me...
A stately tree with history
They drew from me a sense of pride
Four hundred years, I had sheltered them
with limbs that reached up to the sky.
I stood my ground, through all the rain
They understood, my worth, my veins
ran deeper than the eye could see

FOUR HUNDRED YEARS!.....Yes, I was old  !!
And blood turned cold the day I fell
You see, I was much more than Oak
I spoke for those who've long been gone.

I reigned beside this countryside
and watched the tribes beneath the sky
I saw the white men, take away
and claim the ground beneath me, found
And soon a way of life would end
And I would bend my boughs, to pray

Four hundred years, I've overlooked
a river bend, below my limbs
I watched the steamboats ferry men
and saw men die, and saw men rise
and saw men carry hope again

And those who came so long ago
would build a town that grew to know
how values and our valiant strides
are deep as roots, as mine that grew

I was not just a simple tree...
I had a place in history...
I sat beside a little house
One still a treasured artifact
Once built along the river's bend,
It now sits naked in my tracks
without the shade that I had lent

The man who  lived here, led a state
The first to govern, in my shade
It is a fact that through the years
I've watched and shed a thousand tears

What will become of what is left?
A town is left, a state bereft
But facts can't change that I was here...
My roots hang tight to yesteryear

They've grieved, and shed their tears for me
when winds prevailed, and down I fell
I wish them well, and if I can
.....I'll try to surge from down within
            perhaps one root will sprout,  and tell
              my leaves to find the breeze again

Inspired By Tree Personification Contest
Sponsor....Charlotte Puddifoot
Based on the actual tree that came down in my home town

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Free verse | |


Profound silence
felt and revered,
stirring an awesome emotion,
which stillness repeals
whenever brightness shines;
and the primroses' scent spreads the delight
of the mild season.

What do the stars 
tell a lover's heart...palpitating
in tranquility, amid shadows
that advance with the pretty fireflies?
Dream, and reprieve from the loss...
hoping that love doesn't lay at rest,
but chooses to celebrate
'till after the evening, and tell romantic tales.

The invisible crickets chirp, 
somewhat awkward to the ears,
I'd rather hear the coos of the owls,
which are richer and more harmonious in sound,
but where are they in this darkness, unless
they are mating in the willows of the lake?

Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow,
with a superb view of those Manhattan's skycrapers,
towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers.
Juliet wanted to taste this freedom,
embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo,
not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise,
unwilling to leave anytime soon;
and unruffled, she would continue to love him.  

What do the stars tell a lover's heart?
Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it,
because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair;
Sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote
for his lover who crossed the Atlantic ocean,
when ships took months to reach America's shore.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |

Meandering Rivers, Streams and Burns

Meandering rivers, streams and burns
Zig zagging, flowing in contour turns

Sparkling waters as pure as can be
Flow through the glens and down to the seas

Much life is found in these translucent waters
Species of fish, and delightful otters


Along these rivers, streams and burns
Grow many grasses, trees and ferns

Varieties of greens in wonderment bloom
A most beautiful sight is natures front room

Her seasons dictate, the rise and the fall
The pictures she paints, delightfully enthrals


These graceful rivers, streams and burns
Lured us to settle, for beside the seas we yearned

Villages turned into towns, and towns into cities
For the lure of these waters, some murky some pretty

For all around the world, the patterns the same
These are just a few, the Thames, Ness and the Seine

Look after all waters as they are all our concern
Our meandering rivers, streams and burns

" My entry into Brian's contest Flow, River, Flow "

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Terza Rima | |

A Progressive Shadow

A Progressive Shadow

A series of real challenges and troubling world events 
In our twenty-first century give us a definite reason and
An urgency to pause and reflect on mankind’s situation.

Our world today—more than at any other time in the past, 
Is faced with an uncertainty and a palpable anxiety that is
Pervading on the world stage for all of us to sense and see.

These challenges and situational-events are so daunting and 
Form a “progressive shadow” engulfing the soul of mankind.
They cry out now for collective action to find real solutions.

Our technological advances are indeed impressive for sure,
But our stewardship of our planet is lacking, a true tragedy,
As the World Climate edges closer toward a vast cataclysm. 

Our political leaders choose to bury their heads in the sand.
Now is the time we must to face down all of these problems, 
As Mother Nature herself cries out warnings to our deaf ears.

The classical scourges: Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, and War 
Are still with us today as they have been from the very start.
They accentuate mankind’s great shame for all of us to see! 

Atrocities, Famine, Refugees, and Terrorism add their lot
To this growing list along with Nuclear Proliferation and
Political Mendacity for Personal Gain—with no end in sight!

Reasonable answers and solutions abound to these enigmata,
And people are in strife and rightfully want something better;
Yet the oft-noted solution is the “Head-in-the-Sand Syndrome.”

Despite any true faith in God, mankind must be self-reliant,
As a distant deity plays tough love with the bad decisions of 
His “Divine Creation” as we all stumble along without a clue. 

This creates fear, frustration, and anxiety that multiply readily,  
Making potential solutions and decisions even harder to do.
There can never be easy answers under these circumstances!

The tasks facing mankind are many and Sisyphean for sure; 
Yet we must have the courage to face them down as we seek
Realistic accountability from our politicians and big business.

Meanwhile God is watching and Mother Nature is waiting . . .
For mankind to do the right thing and to step up to the plate;
For the “Collective We” hold the keys to make these changes.

Can we do it? Will we do it? Can we rectify our inhumanity?
Can our nation-states serve the people and not themselves?
Can we not all realize that we’re in this tragic mess together?

Tin-eared dictators and fools will gladly tell us all differently.
The temptation to take the easy way out is always there for us.
But are we prepared to inherit this wind and reap its vengeance?

Meanwhile we continue on our present tortuous path oblivious
To the realities facing us squarely down every minute of the day.
In a mythical sense—perhaps we wait for Jotunheim to save us?

Eventually all the sand in “Earth’s Hourglass” will run out and
Our gig will be up, and all of us will be forced to pay the Piper!
Are we not better than this? Let us hope we can find the courage!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 29, 2015
(Unrhymed Tercet)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Free verse | |

What I Am

I am just a figment of your mind,
You create me, and perfect me,
I become your every dream.
I am just a wind that is passing bye,
I carry no emotions, only stories,
That my Ancestors whisper to me.
I come and I speak,
Like the White Buffalo of our tales,
Here and then gone.
I lend my essence to heal, 
As the rain does for the land,
Though I could easily destroy. 
I am just an image in the smoke,
Dancing as the [Ga lv quo di] pipe,
is passed from one to another. 
I am just the beat of the drum,
The call in the night,
As you dance around the fire.
I am just the feather of the Eagle,
And that is all that will be left of me,
A memory of a dream.

Copyright © Jay Loveless

Details | Verse | |

This is May

This is May
The time of the beginning of the month of rains
This is May
The teen girl coming boldly to my mother's room
This is May
Don Colon sails to Discovery Bay and leave in chains
This is May
Her young body like a delicate and exotic perfume
Are clouds dark as memory
On the old page of history
This is May
And I prefer none, but long to be there
When gully overflows cleansing me of fear:
May murmurs in trees
Golden with juicy blossoms
Falling for the rain
May bares her bright breast
To the oval lips of skies
The young heart thunders
May brings her ships to bay
Laden with lost sailors' joy
Black rivers run red
May wears the mountain scent
From fragrant flowers succulent
Hope seeks new domain
May too is for love
Love of brave warriors' drums
Beating like a heart.

Copyright © L'nass Shango

Details | Verse | |

Sensitivity of Nature

When a person approached investigatively,
He chases his relations suspensively,
He finds clue and works dramatically,
Suspection always works progressively.

Confirmation of belief confirms sensitivity,
Growth brings a change to work relatively,
Hunger is seeking growth for productively,
A limit of growth confirms value qualitatively.

When population has highly density,
Unemployment works offensively,
Poverty grows to increase crime,
Disaster comes to balance creatively.

Everything is naturally fast and slow,
A person has patience for a balance flow,
Air can’t across a gravity line,
Sun has different heat rates a limit to grow.

Copyright © Daljit Khankhana

Details | Quatrain | |


Drive across the country
Let imagination flow
Tumbleweed and flat lands
Reveal a western show

Mile markers pave the way
Across this land sublime
Wind blows through the car
On my arm sunshine

Generations of people
Spirits across the land
Occupy a history
Of faces in the sand

Deep inside our spirit
Adheres to our respect
This peaceful land of bounty
No one shall reject

Fresh cut grass lingers
The present rescinding more
Where old shacks and farms
Grasp our inner core 

Land abound with wisdom
Dust has settled down
Enjoy driving the distance
See another town

Copyright © Jane Bowen

Details | Free verse | |

Behind these eyes

    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | ABC | |


Africa, beautiful continent
Dreamy echoes fascinate
Giraffes heighten inclines
Jurassic known linger
Madagascar nestles offshore
Primates quest reform
Savannah tribes umbilical
Visioned waves x-ray
Young zebra

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Rhyme | |

There Was a Day

There was a day
When light was born
When the stars burst into being
Sweet lights that adorn
The heavens above

There was a day
When the first light rays
Spread their wings,
Ready to open the opaque 
Before there were other things

Was it heralded by
Angels of another universe?
Did they blow their horns,
And sing creation's first?

And will there be a day,
When it all shall be called to cease?
And all developed souls,
Shall see their last release?

Not for us to know,
Just to wonder about
And when it's time to go,
We'll hear the angels
Bring an end to any doubt

Copyright © johnathon bart

Details | I do not know? | |

A Tale of My Sisters

With nimble imploring    
Of a tale found quite pretentious,
I found:
My sisters, my comrades,
Obtained skills some found offensive.
They roamed the hills of Scotland,
Burdened with hope enough for nations,
And every time our Mother cried,
Witnessed imprudent brutalization.
Through lands both waste and riches,
Continued on:
A solemn pilgrimage;
Armed with only incantations,
And herbs:
A witch's privilege.
Morrigan has told my spirit
What Brigid tried to say,
Men without us are monsters,
But their minds are such as clay.
That is why we carry on 
Our nomadic occupation,
Driven from villages as The Dragon dies,
Though what we bring's salvation.
I've seen my sisters burn on poles,
Through lights: Theatre Magic,
Everyone was awed indeed,
My sisters' fates were tragic.
So to ensure insure 
'Twas not in vain,
I set forth in expedition,
To find the valley between the hills,
That my sisters' lore has mentioned.

Copyright © Shannah Short

Details | Rhyme | |


Rustic mountains
Through glaciations
Moulded this wonderful
Scottish Nation
Caledonian Forests
Covered our land
On our Western Islands
Golden beached sands
Glens and rivers
Cris cross our land
Glorious moors
Where the Highland Stag stands
Majestic and tall
Proud and might
This king of beasts
The most wonderful sight
Scenery to thrill
Heather-ed in purpled bloom
Look out any window
Its our own front room
Golden Eagles
Soar above these lands
Winged royalty
In their blue blooded strand
Our contribution to our modern world
Is all around us, read and learn
Logie Baird, with Television
Pedal Cycle, Kirkpatrick MacMillan
Medical marvel, Penicillin
In other Nations our touch has felt
Our Ancestors us, we Celts
For centuries we cast our nets
To further lands
We were always met
Friendly Scots in every way
Gave this world 
A better say
America, Canada,  New Zealand too
Us Scots are in me and you
Ancestral blood runs through our veins
The quite wonderful Scottish strain

Copyright © James Fraser