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Home Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Home

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

Details | Free verse | |

A mother's treasures

A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother 
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her 
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job 
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s


Details | Acrostic | |

WISCONSIN

We are known for our football, bratwurst, and beer,
Iridescent blue lakes with fresh waters, crystal clear,
Summer's sun blazes hot enough to make skin burn,
Cheese producing dairy farms are around every turn,
Our bright autumn leaves change their colors with ease,
Near spring, the scent of lilac floats upon the breeze,
Snowy winters, with temperatures below zero degrees,
In our green forests, raccoons and deer have a home,
Near the roadside, wildflowers grow wherever you roam.

Harley-Davidson was born, where the eagles fly free,
Wisconsin is as close to heaven, as home can be.






Kim Merryman's contest - "Tell Me About Where You're From"


Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Welcome Home Storm

Whipping gulf clouds burn
Sheets of sideways rain
People's worried smiles
hurry, pass me by
I'm a lazy girl

Rumbling starts in
Slashing lightning
I mosey home
to watch the storm

Slow feet now
Pellet rain
Lock the door

Sweet sound
Tire me

Peace.


Details | Verse | |

Cardinal's Solitary Home-II


On a chilly Christmas morn
I looked out of the window.
Most of the birds have gone
on this cold dark winter day.
I saw a Cardinal on the tree
brilliantly colored Northern Cardinal.
A winter fixture at snow-covered bird feeders
I ask myself “Do the birds have Christmas?
Looking for something to eat or
planning in advance for a habitat
on this leafless tree
like the politicians’ fake promises.
When it gets cold, it flies south
when it gets warm; it returns;
that is what we learn from birds.
Maybe waiting his girlfriend’s message
for when to bring food to the nest.
A few leaves lay on the starving rod
Fallen from the ash and grey

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Ode | |

Free as the wind Ode to native American Indians

Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
and roam
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.





Peter Dome.copyright.2012.


Details | Free verse | |

My Boredom Disease

Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 


Details | Free verse | |

My Future Generation

I can act insane
But DO NOT 
Make me feel worthless

I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation

Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee 

I can act like an
Adult, but I’d 
Prefer to have joy…

Not stress…
That piles upon us in our 
Everyday lives

Being childlike is

A rare beauty – 

No one prizes it…

No one came across it…

In this lifetime…

I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my 
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine

Renew my young heart
Give me the ability 
To kill the old man…

I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified 
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs  
By my future generation

I beg of you – 
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy

I’ll still have pieces of a child in me

And pass it on to my future generation…


Details | Rhyme | |

Nature Walk


Amongst the purple
shadows in the early
light
Flocks of birds
taking ready for
flight
Sprinkles of colors
and various shades
of green
A place that remains
untouched and
unseen.

Water slowly
trickles along the
small creek
Where you find
pebbles and stones
so unique
Overhead the bird of
prey with eyes like
a hawk
Will gaze over
everything that
crawls or walks.

The water with it's
endless spring flow
A home for water
lilies and the fish
below
A haven for the
birds of prey
A home for the
foliage to decay.

Green moss gathers
around the trees
Gathering place for
moths, wasp and bees
Black ants invade
the old tree stumps
While tall crap
grass gathers in
clumps.

Black- eyed Susan
scent hangs strong
Other flowers barren
, flowers long gone
Once bright  berries
hung, now only a few
Saskatoon,
pin-cherries and
choke cherries too.

Amongst the purple
shadows in the early
light
The prairie sunset
turns to a soft
scented night
I walk along the
path by the creek
Finding the solitude
that I seek.

 9/4/12


Details | Pantoum | |

The Dusk is Tricking Us Again

Whenever the sun goes home to sleep,
Man says 'today's labor is over'.
But I know the dusk is tricking us again.
Yet, who cares to give that trick a thought.


Man says 'today's labor is over;
A dreamy sleep is the only thing to reap'
But I know the dawn will soon rob me of my rest'
Yet, the weary man gives dusk trick no thought.


A dreamy sleep is the only thing to reap
After man has given the day his labor
But I know the dawn will soon rob me of my rest
For the dusk only trick us to look forward to its rest.


After man has given the day his labor,
I know the dusk will trick us again.
For it makes man look forward to its rest,
Whenever the sun goes home to sleep




11th August, '12
Just experimenting with the Pantoum form


Details | Rhyme | |

The Puppy

The puppy’s eyes were huge and sad.
His tail a drum did beat within my head.
His whimper a sound from which I could not part.
His posture defeated struck upon my heart. 
His expectations high. His whimpers slow. 
Within his cage he lays submissively low.
I could not walk away when invited in by eyes so bright.
I reached low to scratch his ears and touch his head so light.
Upon my hand he did drool, as his tongue did lick to know.
Then he held me in his mouth so tight as not to let me go.
A connection felt, a gentle hand, a belly rub a treat.
I knew to hold him close- my heart made whole again would beat.
Forever mine whispered in my ear. I could not let him go.
Unconditional love to feel- I could not look away, so
Our heart beat once- then twice again in unison unique.
Without a doubt- one way to go- my heart does tightly seek. 
I know to take him home- my life would be so sweet.
One dog has died. Now another found. My life continues still.
New hopes and dreams- to home we go as life proclaims its’ fill.
But his friend sits shivering, as we prepare to leave.
My heart grows suddenly still. To look, to see, my heart to believe
One is good, but two is best- two hearts my love can shield.
Toward my home we turn again- three hearts to joyfully yield.
Once a house- now a home we will successfully build.
So if a shelter you do pass, stop a moment to see…
Perhaps a loved one waits inside, if a loving home you have a need...


Details | Tanka | |

Africa - Tanka contest

Sweet Home Eden.
Amidst widening desert.
Faint lions whisper:
"globes warming, rains rare."
Sweet Home Eden, for how long? 


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | Free verse | |

Wild Western Blizzard

What could I really know of the breaks 
                                                                in the land
huge canyons               bleeding red              cut by the wind
with the snow swirling                                  around our tires
barns upright 
                                   and fallen to a  tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
                        we scrape madly inside
                              trying to keep cold out
speed slowing
slowing to a crawl
always on the lookout
outside line appearing and gone, 
                                                                    no worries about
cattle led inside to safety    to be watered               and fed
but what of us?
                       Will we be trapped clutching a candle
                             wanting a chocolate bar, 
                                 waiting for a tractor?
and all the flat seeming land seems to have ditches
and roof pitches and rushing trees, and a swirl
                         of slumbering snow 
                                             to lumber down in drifts and piles
no fire would ever warm us
                                                                temperature dropping
dropping 
            until finally we see it                shining in the dark
                                          a lantern at a farm
a fleet of snow mobiles to greet  us
                                                                   scurry is off 
                             before our ears turn blue, 
                                would they fall off?
Luckily, not tonight, not in this blizzard, 
                                                                      we have home.


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Going Home

What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.


Details | Couplet | |

My Quiet Place

My quiet place is when my son is at school and my husband is at work the house is so quiet at times I can't remember the joy and fun. I get mighty lonesome at times but I know that I will have Caleb home soon and Wayne sometimes gets to drop by and say hello. He comes and goes so fast I get to feeling like we don't connect with eachother very much. 
I get in my comfy chair and open the door and blinds to see the nature outside. Nature is my most written about subject especially the birds and flowers. 
The different colors in the sky and flowers are a great inspiration to me. I know others who can be in a room full of people and tune out life and keep on writing. That is not me.
I need to be in a comfy envrionment.

My home is a quiet lonesome
Other dwellers roam free
My home is lonely with just me
Others don't care to be

Informed of my heart and souls depth
My home calls me to go
Where One knows and is known truly
Beyond the sky's rainbow

For Sara Kendrick's contest My Quiet Place


Details | Rhyme | |

Nature's Single Dad - The Australian Emu 2 THE DAYS CONTINUE

NATURE’S SINGLE DADS:
THE AUSTRALIAN EMU

The next sixteen months:

CRR-ACK ~ “That’s loud,” he exclaims getting up on his legs, so knobbly and thin.
He looks down to the ground, 
where he first heard the sound,     
and says, “Now it’s your turn to begin.”

Hours go by, as each little chick tries to break free of its protective cover.
They all work their way, 
throughout the long day, 
then all greet their father-come-mother.

For his new family he breaks the last shell. To his fluffy striped chicks, he’s their mother.
As they grow older under Dad’s shoulder 
he will nurture, each sister and brother.

In time, they will leave his home on the dance floor; a single dad, with chicks he will roam.
With high steps he will prance. 
They will learn every dance 
for survival, before he goes home.

With the changing seasons, Emund finds reasons to leave his young chicks on their own
Others join with his brood 
now there’s plenty of food,
Emund turns and again, he’s alone.

Not taking the chance of being late for the dance Emund picks up his speed on the track.
They won’t meet at his gate 
if he gets home too late 
to dance to the rhythms of the outback.

The Australian Emu; one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species in the extremes of the outback.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Ant

And what is that you have with you, my tiny insect friend? Such ambition I behold, as you crawl across my hand You carry such a heavy load, for your larder, I suppose. You were sidetracked from the winding road, to your home in earth below A deal I'll make, but you must know You mustn't bite me, if you please.... Then I'll put you down, and let you go to your home beneath the trees


Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 11 - butterflies, dragonfly, old tree

gossamer wings pulsating in the air butterflies in flight a dragonfly skimming the water's surface taking a drink rugged and gnarled the bark of an old tree home to many insects


Details | Ballade | |

The day the loo flew

The day the loo flew.

Way back in the nineteen eighties
I was half way through my life.
When my feet grew loose and restless
And boredom caused some strife
And so we two discussed it
And decided what we’d do
We’d go and live in a little shed
With a nice old country view

We started out in a caravan
Lived there for a month or two
Then we bought a roller door shed
And rigged it up nice too
Then put a little shed outside
With a dunny for our use
Hoping that no wind would come
And blast that poor shed lose

Then one day, it happened
It was five past twelve at night
The moon was full and filled the sky
It was a pretty sight
With rain a pouring from the sky
Then I felt a need there grow
And when that need does show it’s face
One really has to go

So I rushed into that tiny shed
And pulled my trousers down
I wasn’t happy about the rain
And my face it wore a frown
But When that blast of wind occurred
And the shed began to move
The mood that I was in right then
It sure did not improve.

That wind did clutch it in it’s arms
And tossed it in the air 
That shed it sailed upon the breeze
As rain fell everywhere
And I’m sitting there in all my glory
That rain just drenching me
And all that I could do was laugh
So I did, I laughed like crazy.

8 July 2013 @ 2024hrs.
.





Details | Ballade | |

Amidst the flowers

Love midst the flowers

The roses bloom so endlessly
In pink and red and yellow
And orange too with purest white
As the morn feels soft and mellow
We sit together drinking tea
As love fills all of me
And oh, it feels so wonderful
Cause, that’s the way love be.

The birds sing out in tenderness
As they pray to the golden sun
And you and I sit sipping tea
No longer two, but one
As the love, the joy of perfect love
Does deep within me sing
Those birds are singing just for us
And so much bliss do bring.

The Sun shines in the deep blue sky
I smell the whiff of Jasmine
As love sings from a gentle heart
Above all worldly din
As you and I together, dear
We sit here sipping tea
Nothing matters in the whole wide world
But the love twixt you and me.


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea


Details | Ballade | |

Creating words in the garden

Creating words in the garden

I’ve been sitting in the garden
It’s a lovely Sunny day
It’s supposed to be our winter
But I know she’s on her way
That spring season I love so well
I can feel it everywhere
So I’ve been sitting in the garden
Without one single care.

I took me notebook out with me
To try to write some stuff
Too soon I’d wrote four little poems
And then, I’d had enough
And so I went and made them safe
On my trusty word machine
Having been there in that garden
My world felt so serene.

In the presence of serenity
The words just flow on out
I don’t know where they come from
Somehow they come about
When I’m sitting in the garden
And beauty beckons me
It seems to be my inspiration
For creativity.

9 August 2013 @ 1624hrs.