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Nature Write Poems | Nature Poems About Write

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

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Details | Free verse | |

MY SEX


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


Details | Narrative | |

New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


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 | Rhyme | |

A New Morning

A new morning once again,
promising difference from others before.
Beautiful this morning as I write with pen
and I feel my spirit soar.

I cannot help but stand in awe
of all that I see before me.
Once again, I hear the call
to write of what my eyes see.

Quiet subdues the great expanse
of the forest to the mountains beyond.
A hawk overhead in the great distance
circles steadily and then is gone.

The sky takes on a hazy look
with the sun not quite coming through.
It is to me as if nothing took
away from this beautiful view.

This day for me holds promises anew
as I see it's quiet start.
Opportunities in this day will come to
strengthen and encourage my heart.


Douglas L. Ace


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

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


Details | Narrative | |

New Paths

A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...


Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Haiku | |

Colorful Light

Rainbows here and there,
Lights shining in rain so rare,
Colors, sparks and flares.


Details | Free verse | |

Self PORTRAIT

I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide

I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight

My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign  
I twirl my hair and make it bend 
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends

As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin

The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions

I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane

Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed

The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair 
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose

I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key

It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore




Details | Blank verse | |

The Dust God

I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted, 
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God 
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts, 
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear 
Into


Jacob Reinhardt	
9/19/2013


Details | Free verse | |

Autumn's Breath

You whisper in my ear
midmorning bird songs
with that scent of mountain air
and foliage extracting its green emblem.
Switching to fields of neon;
your breath mimics the sunset sky
the feeling of kissing your newborns forehead,
so gentle and soft your entrance.
You ease your way into a majestic overlook
of pomegranate leaves,
and weak, crisp, dead skinned grass.

My delicate irises wince at
overpowering sun rays
but the heart of your existence
I open my eyes for.
I can’t miss this.
My body balanced
by your impeccable temperature,
my darling,
you look so beautiful tonight,
in my window frame,
your fire grows in the pale moonlight.

You whisper in my ear
midnight cricket hymns
so seducing in your presence
that I can’t get enough of this. 


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Free verse | |

Louisiana Bayou Spanish Moss

Louisiana Bayou Spanish Moss

So pretty
Hanging from the cypress trees
It grows without showing its age
Never dying it controls the bayou
Hiding nest of the most beautiful birds
It has been home for countless generations
Silver grey by the light of day
It casts ghostly shadows by the light of the moon
Dreamers and poets write of its beauty
Others write of the terror in brings
It is a citizen of an ever shrinking ecosystem
Vital to the world around it
It is bound to die as the bayou shrinks around it
Does it matter to man?
No, but it does to millions of bayou animals
The ones who count on it for life
The others who use it for shelter
Where will they go?


Details | Ballad | |

Silent times

Silent times

Sometimes, I really do not care
About anything at all
My mind goes kind of quiet then
My mode is kind of cool
And all I really want to do
Is sit here looking in
Forgetting all the world outside
Forgetting all the din

There’s a time to send ones energy
And circle it around
But then there comes a sacred time
When the harmony is found
Waiting there within the dark
To hold one cozily
A time to be in her soft clutch
And bask there happily.

Then when the muse has been recharged
It’s time to wander back
And let the words come pouring out
Cause just along the track
The wind, the flowers and dancing trees
Have replaced the mystery
So now the words they may flow free
With much more energy.


Details | Free verse | |

Dark Forthcoming

The dark skies are coming,

Dark clouds are appearing,

The wind is gusting,

Trees are fronting,

We are shunning,

We go running...

 

The dark skies are coming,

Rains are blossoming,

Nature is bumping,

They go cunning,

The sky is drumming,

Forest are burning,

We run intending...

 

Dark skies are coming,

Gusts are interfering,

Nature is in confusion,

Humanity getting in pandemonium,

Minds in disorder,

Intention unbecoming...

 

Dark skies are coming,

Darkness is rising,

Sun is fading,

It is causing an uprising,

It keeps arising,

We keep striving...

 

Dark skies are coming,

Darkness is blinding,

Gusts keep arriving,

Deception and treachery are conniving,

Pain gets agonizing,

We go crying,

You go regreting...

 

The dark skies are coming,

Mountains are crumbling,

Clounds are thundering,

Soil is spoiling,

Bodies are breaking,

Hearts are bleeding,

Birds are flocking,

Fishes are emerging,

Somethings are dying,

Humanity is surviving,

Safety is distrusted,

Most things are doubted,

Everything is happening,

The dark forthcomings are near...


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 | Villanelle | |

When The Sea Is Angry

When the sea is angry
 Waves, like knives, penetrate deeply
Secrets are revealed
                                                     
Stingrays uncovered, at risk
 Burrow deep
When the sea is angry 
                                                                            
Shells buried for time unknown
 Surface in brilliant majesty
Secrets are revealed

The coral braces, mortality guaranteed
 Death and destruction inevitable
When the sea is angry

Sand scattered, settles again
 History buried, rears its head
Secrets are revealed

What is exposed, covered again
 Nothing left for man
When the sea is angry

An explosion born of fury
 Brings forth, then takes away again
When the sea is angry
Secrets are revealed


Details | Free verse | |

I Took The DARE and Survived It

Anxiety about what I might think preceded me
As I sat on the stool in the middle of my living room
Ready to think about who knows what,
I relaxed for a moment and then closed my eyes.

Gratitude and peacefulness were my first feelings.
I smiled inside thinking about how literal Ingrid had taken me.
He remembered that I intended to write at 3:00 a.m.
As the clock ticked, Ingrid kept time for me…

Fear crossed my mind next, afraid of my own thoughts,
What they might be.  Nightmares.  Horrors. 
Repressed experiences dreaded.
But thankfully, the ringing in my head saved me.
At least for that moment…

A few things slipped in.  The Jeffery McDonald murders
That took place when I was stationed at Ft. Bragg, N.C.
The horror had anguished me on an off over the years.
Then, I heard the crickets again.  Thankfully.

Next, a hit and run accident that was reported in the news years ago
Flashed through my mind…anxiety from Army days.
It had happened on a road we sometimes traveled.
Fear, reality check, and cricket sounds followed.

Yes, it is that cricket sound that I enjoy so much.
It took me to the natural world in all its beauty.
Little seeds germinating in my sunroom...  
Crickets outside making their noise; I smiled again.

And the crickets in my head chirped.
I was thinking that this isn’t so bad after all.
I have learned to find happiness inside myself
Then, Ingrid said, “Time’s up.”

I felt relieved.

© March 1, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

My DARE: Dane, you picked Dare* I dare you to sit in the middle of your living room... 
(on a chair if you have toooo!) Close your eyes, and feel for 5 minutes... (you will need a 
stop watch that alert you when the 5 minutes are up. During them 5 minutes, you have 
to feel everything, allow your strong emotions to feel. Even if you have little one's are 
running or your cat is purring at your feet. Don't allow it to bother you. You have to 
concentrate and find that one spot in the back of your mind. The part that digs real 
deep into every feeling we forget is there. After the 5 minutes are up... Sit in the spot 
where you write, and write for 10 minutes, Write about every thought that passed 
through your mind in a poetic way, sad~happy~ mad, crazy.. and so on... Take us deep 
into your mind... Thank you..pd

Confession…I wrote more than 10 minutes…time slipped up on me.


Details | Rhyme | |

Might these be

Might this be a wonder,
Might this be a sunder,
Might this be the blocker,
Might this be the warder,
Might there be a plunder,
Might it pass the border,
Might there be a dweller,
Might they be lodgers,
Should they be squatters,
Should they be trespassers...

Might they squander,
Might it scatter,
Might this be a sputter,
Might there be a clutter,
Moght there be to many clusters,
Might this be the controller
Mightit get power...?

Might these be handlers,
Might these be forcers,
Might these be the squashers,
Might these be the breakers,
Breaking some of the order...

Might this be a night,
Going to a wretched midnight,
Coming from a raging twilight,
Until these be ended, throughout nighttime,
Later waking from our bedtime,
Maybe dying to see the morning light,
Might this be happening tonight...?

Might there be a knight,
Might there be a fight,
Waiting for a shining might,
Coming from some rainbow's light,
coming slight from the nighttime,
With some waiting for their fly...

Might these fight the ghouls,
Might they get to their goal,
Might this vanish some ghosts,
Whom want all of our souls...

Might this be other things,
Might these be the lives of life,
With some asking, might these be I...?


Details | Blank verse | |

The owl

The owl is wise and strong.
At night it hunts
under the moon,
under the moon that shines
upon the mysteries of the woods.
Under the pine tree drops of water
drip into peaceful ponds that echo mysticism.
The forest is mystery,
the mystery of the Gods and of nature.
The pond is your inner soul.


Details | Rhyme | |

spirits that will outlast

  I'm the sentient of individuality,
the warrior of my path,
free from anything claiming power,
that laughs at social wrath,
that walks with firm ability,,
  I'm the control at present,
that nothing steers for me,
the navigator twards sole horizons,
free destinations I independently see,
honor of my life's intent,,
  Sole creators of this choice,
that others look to see,
that leads with independent indifference,
knowing that it's not free,
leading with the strongest voice,,
  This independence the hardest road,
but worth it above all,
knowledge of this gained wisdom,
you'll rise above the call,
power of one so bold,,
  The ancestors of ancient past,
knew this all too well,
always striving twards independent light,
staring down faces of hell,
true spirits that will outlast.


Details | Free verse | |

Peace to One and All

Be careful
I said carefully come nearer
Be careful
I said carefully take my sword
Be careful
I said carefully read my lip
Be careful
I said carefully draw my sword
Be careful
I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul
Be careful
I said carefully send me there now...

Why do you withhold?

Be careful
Have your sword, shield it
And have your seat

Politics has not completely darken my heart
I still sense the part I belong
I know I aren't born this way
I know I aren't call to this way
I know God don't support my way-


Bloodshed day and night 
All in the name of satisfying
Whims and caprices of the few

The world led with the words of the opportunist
And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full

Since you are now born again

  Be careful
  I said carefully come nearer
  Be careful
  I said carefully take my sword
  Be careful
  I said carefully read my lip
  Be careful
  I said carefully draw my sword
  Be careful
  I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul
  Be careful
  I said carefully send me there now

  Why do you withhold?

  Be careful
  Have your sword, shield it
  And have your seat

  Politics has not completely darken my heart
  I still sense the part I belong
  I know I aren't born this way
  I know I aren't call to this way
  I know God don't support my way-


  Bloodshed day and night 
  All in the name of satisfying
  Whims and caprices of the few

  The world led with the words of the opportunist
  And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full

  Since you are now born again

Be careful
And carefully convey my message to those privilege few
Be careful
And don't change my words
Be careful
And listen carefully
Be careful
And tell them I said...

Peace be upon thou
That values this singular word in action
Who give room for this course to thrive
And carry the day

Peace be upon those 
That gives it a chance
The Word in question is PEACE

Peace and Unity is what I preach

Carefully
Convey my message to one and all.


Details | Quatrain | |

Eyes Gaze

When the sun cast pastel colors
On the far eastern horizon
Like kisses exchanged between lovers
Drawing me as the scent of spring
Lures the honeybee to come taste
Notebook, pen, dictionary bring
To porch, ears tuned, eyes gaze__no haste  

Sponsor: Carol Sunshine Brown
Contest: Who, What, Where
Form: Saraband(one tercet plus one quatrain)
Rhyme Scheme:A,X,A...B,C,B,C
The form not listed so put under Quatrain


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


Details | Rhyme | |

Summer Night

Not quite light, not quite dark
It was hazy, hot, and humid today
Setting on my old front porch
Just leisurely passing time away

Lightening bugs are softly glowing
Crickets are chirpping their tune
Darkness is descending rapidly
I can see a beautiful crescent moon

Sounds of summer all around
Oh, the glorious seasonal scent
Just a hint, of a summer breeze
The day is but hours of being spent

Not many more summer nights
Soon snow will cover the ground
For this moment, I am content
With the beauty of sight and sound

For Write Now (It took me ten minutes
to write this on my front porch}


Details | Rhyme | |

Writing on Absurdity

Oh so many words to write
On colours so divine I sight ~
	A blue
   A green
           A pastel scene
Some color that’s like whipping cream!

	So eager!
      Beaver,
Have you seen her?
Sitting on a rustic fence?
I bet she’s waiting
	Contemplating
Being with some handsome gent!

Aligned with sights and sounds I muster,
	Up the strength to write a word
I write them down without a sound
	A thought that’s really quite absurd!

So gander at a gander
   Goose
So fluffy with its feathers
   Roost
Beyond the gleaning fields of yellow
                   Not beside that smelly fellow!

A goose is good if you can gander
At it --
With a telescope
	Leave it with a good impression
I’m guessing
   You would like a lesson
In how a duck can dodge a gun --
	They are a duck however, pleasing
However pleasing is a duck?
But if you think about it really
     They can dodge because they 
     Duck.


Details | Rhyme | |

Heat wave

Heat wave

We have a heat wave going on
It’s like a furnace here
When walking through my little garden
I hardly hold it dear

The flowers, and leaves are curling up
The roses bloom, but dried
The grass is just like burned out hay
Oh everything is fried

The lakes are turning into mud
The water is all gone
It’s so damned hot even the birds
Refuse to sing their songs

People moaning all the time
Most cannot stand the heat
But those that do sit out in it
Their flesh burned like cooked meat.

Me, I sit here lazy like
With air conditioner on
And write these poems in the cool
Until the heat is gone.

16 December 2013 @ 1055hrs.


Details | Quatrain | |

Night

I love the night from dusk 'til dawn, 
It's the only time to carry on 
with thoughts and dreams still unachieved, 
my whole life plan at night conceived. 

No light's distractions, no buzz of sound, 
my conscious clears while ideas abound. 
Sleep does not come for me with ease, 
Time hypnotic is knowledge less seized. 

What is it that makes me insightful those hours? 
Is a great truth revealed by some higher power? 
I think fate is set when the mind is most clear 
of petty thoughts which by night disappear. 

But as the hours count down to day's early light, 
some find it ironic to be enlightened at night. 
Yet I find strength to arise and start the dead day, 
knowing that night is not far away!


Details | Free verse | |

Enigmatic Lane

Enigmatic Lane

This enigmatic lane-
I’ve walked long.
And now I see
Only barren lands,
A mere setting sun,
And a vague horizon.

I turn to look back
Along this enigmatic lane.
And then I see
Those umpteen vicissitudes,
Those sudden meanders,
Those familiar turns,
Those abrupt detours.

Down this enigmatic lane,
There have been
Many a rich meadows,
Many a bleak wastelands,
Millions of pompous marches,
Millions of disconcerting dirges,
Several comforts of love,
Several cruelties of reclusion.

Along this enigmatic lane
I may no longer tread, for-
As I now halt, I ponder-
Perpetuation has always been
The ruse of fleeting phases,
And what worth has it been
To walk this enigmatic lane.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hot Summer

Over writing, reading is a joy
I saw a mirage that I thought
Was a water!  Summer time.


Details | Free verse | |

The cogs keep on turning

A distant fire glows
out on the horizon
spreading further as it grows
Early morning nature rises
calls as birds stir twittering
Day breaks 
crisp chilled air fresh on the lungs
Cats stalk through gardens
as news paper round girls and boys cycle on by
Dogs bark disturbed
by familiar letter box rattles
A couple of car doors close
first engines started for the day
all indicates beginning of daily rat race
and slowly home by home emerges
adding to numbers and noise
Smog starts to lift
Smells of fuel spoil the airs quality
Industry booms mechanically back to life
and once again the process of life carries on


Details | Free verse | |

Freedom writes

Freedom sings in the nature of things.

Warm gusting winds. 

Bash against the leaves  of a tree.

It makes a sound purposely calming to the ear.

Beneath the trees roots do grow.

Freely and free.

Free burning flames of the sun blind the eye.

As free roaming clouds set free the sky.

Plants of the earth dances.

Its partner the free blown breeze.

Hump back whales jump above the sea.

Are you as free as nature and its unpredictable course of dances.

Can you stare into the free burning flames of the sun?

A stare of freedom,the sun has won.

Will your eyes stay open,like wildly free tides that hit the sands.

Stroll with me in freedoms steps

A freedom nature kept.

Pick up a pen and set its ink free.

Or use your blood on paper and set your self free.

Many say they love to write free poem verses,but they erase and cross out their free poetic verses.Oh come write with me on natures freedom leaves.Let free blown breeze run up your sleeves. 

Erasing and crumbling paper, a freedom tease

Borrow  my free pen and freedoms keys

                        Oh freedom.
                        Oh freedom.
                        Oh freedom 
                           please.

A free flowing freedom cant freeze,nor cease

Take my pen and write with ease.

No crumbling,no erasing. 

                            Just freedom please


Details | Rhyme | |

SPRING, FLABBERGAST ME WITH YOUR SCENTED FLOWERS

Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the gracious lilies and flaboyant tulips
as they spent their time brightening lovers's eyes;
yes, open up your garden where the red sun dips,
and the voluptuous lovers hug and passionately kiss...
rising in me a desire that takes me back to youthful days!



Down the rusty path, flanked by pines and fir trees,
the blue-jay parched on the lowest branch, is quite and waits;
at exactly twelve o' clock he starts warbling as a siren wails...
we have become friends, and he inspires me to write melodies,
but without a pencil and music sheet I must retain those notes into this active brain,
until I get home and write them down while he shelters himself from he misty rain.



Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the stately sunflowers and the wild roses 
growing taller than any plant seen in the wind-swept wilderness
as the mariachis play their song to console a marchioness sitting in a breezy corner;
these aren't musicians found in a parade, they are peasants with colorful costumes...
soon someone will say," Alla manana, Segnora. " as the calm returns on the shore.   


4/16/2012


Details | I do not know? | |

The Root of Inspiration

I set out on a quest today,
Compelled to write a poetic story,
I thought perhaps I’d write about,
The mind in its’ infinite glory,
While philosophizing life
I wondered, what is inspiration?
So I continued on my noble journey,
Through the minds vast imagination,
I was full of motivation,
As I made my faithful way,
And neurological obstacles,
Kept getting in my way,
Soaring through the universe,
I came unto a vibrant light,
As i set my hand upon it,
I was filled with divine insight,
The gleaming light then vanished,
And an angel had appeared,
Dressed in a robe of white,
Dawned with a halo in her hair,
A silky voice then asked me,
Is it knowledge you require?
She said again as if she’d known,
Then ask what you desire,
I was wondering where it was,
That inspiration is derived,
Then as I came unto the light,
I’d understood as I arrived.

Copyright © 2009 Zachary Jackson


Details | I do not know? | |

Tumbleweed

Windy day
weather beaten
tired
dried out
long grasses
worn
 b r e a k s   away
s
 w
   e
     p
       t

b  b  i  g   along
 o  b  n


dusty streets
carried                 away
on distant
journeys
t
 u
  m
   b
    l
     i
      n
       g

tur-
   - n-
gni-

t i s t n 
 w s i g

c   o   n   t   o  r   t   i   n   g

(hiding)
{peeping}
'barely noticed'
or #acknowledged

- tumbleweed

16/8/2013


Details | Rhyme | |

id like too

before I pass through the moon and stars, I would like too have a family in the woods, by a creek hearing birds chirping as they stay in the trees I'll tell my children that there talking bout you, when the night comes we will count all the stars see how full the sky is and pray for a shooting star when you go to bed I'll stir up some hot chocolate and surprise them in their room, how great it is to have these things when your fast asleep in peace.


Raymond Geisel- id like too


Details | Ballad | |

Low Man Is Due

A low man is due...
My eyes seek reality,
My fingers feel for faith.
Touch clean with a dirty hand,
I touch the clean to the waste.
I fall cause I let go,
The net below has rot away.
And I cry to the alleyway,
Confess all to the rain.
But I lie straight to the mirror,
The one I've broken to match my face.
The fire is so warm,
But nowhere safe from the storm.
And I can't bear to see,
What I've let me be.
So wicked and worn.
So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do.
Maybe you'll understand,
I won't cry for this man.
Cause low man is due.
So low the sky is all I see,
All I want from you is forgive me.
My eyes seek reality,
And my fingers seek my veins.
There's a dog at your back step,
He must come in from the rain.
But you bring that poor dog in from the rain,
Though he just wants right back out again.
So my fingers feel for faith,
And my eyes seek reality.
So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do.
Maybe you'll understand,
I won't cry for this man.
Cause low man is due.


Details | Free verse | |

FROM THE MIND TO THE HEART

Where does one begin to write,
away from the streets' nioses and children's screams,
forgetting those bouts of loneliness
that evade the inner peacefulness?
One starts with a pad, jotting down appealing ideas...
never having to fear they'll be lost.


I have a private place where I compose
a new poem, then read it aloud to myself;
such a place has a window that opens 
to the brilliance of a blessed day,
and sunlight impinging, highlights its words
to amaze me of a would-be greatness. 


After midnight I refuge to this quite corner,
when most people sleep and the luminiscent moon
projects her beams to enlighten my dreamy face,
I stare back at her and wave as I do with friends;
moon as eternal as unseen planets more colorful,
do you have the faintest idea why I indite?


Some write for fame, others to empty their souls of painful reasons,
or to glorify Heaven and love for their continous existence,
but invoking death instead of life is so detestable and inexcusable;
and from their voices I reckon the useslessness and torment...
may I never become like them, to burn hope in blazes of smoke,
watching its incineration until it turns into hot ashes!


I write out of an urge, which swells inside and needs to burst out,  
leaving my psyche, to let it land on prude hands that welcome my gift,
until I pulsate with satisfaction, and purging those who show dissidence...
might raise questions for them who are easily aroused to anger;
I create more in quietitude....not being disturbed by airplanes' roars,
or trains speeding on tracks making all windows vibrate.

 
From the ancient to the modern poets, their intellect is stimulated
by urban or rustic sourroundings, and I have choosen them both in my writings,
and they manifest themselves glowingly, enticing this reason for existing;
open my pages and read all the passionate verses exciting the eye and pleasing the soul:
these are from the mind to the heart, a testimony of an enthustiastic life...
streaching out to every boundery and race, making everyone savor my delights.


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Free verse | |

Opening Season for Spring

Caress of morning sun
gives the day a wake-up call.
Winter has set aside hr wraft of cold...
The highways are crowded again with
Hurried drivers, like before, although
there is no snow to impede or ice for crazy crashes.
It is almost spring-like, forty degrees and
we are all pleased to have it so.

Our chatter is easy with no loud cries of
"Watch what you are doing!"
Yes, easy riding; when I get home
I shall write a poem about the guy, just passing by,
wearing only a "Tee", wow, look at me, layered still,
blouse, vest, sweater, coat hat...one of us
appears to be crazy!
Ha!  What a laugh,
I must be daft, minding someone else's business
on how he is dressed.

After all spring is just around the corner and
I'll write another poem, just off the top of my head.
The leaves are dancing again, soon to be wearing
Spring green and laughing, dressing trees in nature's colors of spring splendor.

2/12/11

Cynthia



Details | Rhyme | |

What will I write today ?

An open book, an empty page.
What will I write today ?
The written word, a productive gauge
of that which the heart wants to say.

Leaves blowing about in the windy breeze,
bringing forth words from within.
 Colors begin to adorn the trees
and to not write of this would be a sin.

The silence of the early morn
nurtures that space of time to reflect
on moments in my life from when I was born
and memories I'm longing to forget.

I choose to see beauty in the day
and let my pen write of the same.
All about me wakes to the sun's first rays
with more ideas for this writer to claim.

Douglas L. Ace


Details | Couplet | |

And the Sun Spoke

The clouds fell down abruptly upon me this day
As the sun pushed them down, it had wanted to play

I looked to it, with a squint in my eyes
For it seemed so bright, there in the skies

It smiled and said, Michael, please write of me
I want the world to know just what I can be

I am more than just light, to brighten the day
I am inspiration, growth and a reason to play

I flourish the fields with multitudes of flowers
I give people reasons, in those fields, to spend hours

I am artwork, unpainted, but crafted from above
I am a gift from almighty, provided with love

So, Michael, can you please write of me now
Please let them all know, what I do and just how

Please choose your words wisely, so all to see clear
Just what I can do and just why I am here

I said, do not worry, they all know it true
For the words that I write, will be those poured from you