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Nature Evil Poems | Evil Poems About Nature

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

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Details | Epic |

Crossroads

Walking threw the mist of the night,
on the path that lead deep into the forest, in absence of sound;
from one whom was bought, no body shell be found,
of those who might be lost, homeward bound,
as we raven through this hollow ground.

Cross sentences that are incomplete, fractions that make you weak,
threw words that you learned so well, life is a living hell,
don't front and pull back, end of line, number check,
in the story and on track, blank page,
ink intact.


Details | Sonnet |

Mournining Earth

Pardon me bleeding piece of earth
I see your excruciating pains
Like a pregnant woman in labour date
Loosing her beauty along with stains

Creatures atimes welcome evil as fair
Slowly quelling nature in nature rage
Visiting souls in journey not fare
Mother earth our boat through age

O' remember us in your days 
For you are still our home
Good or evil you richly repays
So lets find her freedom

Come, come the earth is crying
Lets find a way to stop her dying


Details | Free verse |

Light To Dark

You think you’ve gone just far enough,

I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again

You think you were careful but,

I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form

You think you can find a way into my good graces

I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume

You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents

You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win

Don’t underestimate me

You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing

You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down

My eyes took too long to adjust

Better late than never

It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours

My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep

Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet

Then I thought about the mess it would make

I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own

I was not weak, but I had a weakness

A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care

No longer

Now my heart is a stone so heavy

I could kill at least two birds at once 

Being the nice guy is a thing of the past 

Thanks for freeing me of that softness

You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things

When really I had just been swallowing razor blades

Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong

Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you

If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run

Your gonna be the one with tired feet

I’m not sad anymore

Just sick with the plague of your lies

Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss

Even angels can make themselves wicked

When we do, we take no prisoners

Still think I’m a game

This one is just beginning


Details | Ballad |

The joy of the pheasant shoot

The joy of the pheasant shoot.

Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough 
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.

Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.

I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.

10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs




Details | Lyric |

God help the foolish

God help the foolish

Everywhere I go
The trees grow oh, so tall
The birds, they whistle cheerily
It’s all so wonderful
This world is filled with beauty
To feast the eyes upon
God help us all when all of this is gone.

Some folk worship money
They have no other view
Short sighted is the way they look
They never see what’s true
Destroying untold beauty
For the power of owning all
They are killing everything that’s beautiful

God help the foolish
They know not what they do
They bring down forests to the ground
God help those crazy few
Where will they get their oxygen
When all the trees are gone
God help them with their foolish carry on.

A world without the beauty
Of trees, and birds, and flowers
Would crush one’s soul so heavily
Why do they need this power?
Oh, what’s the good of money
If this is all there be?
This planet dies, as I watch helplessly.


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 | Narrative |

Witches

I was walking down at Green-bank park
Rather frightened as it was dark
There I fell into this ditch
And came across the most gruesome witch
At first she scared me half to death
As she sat there to my left
Her nose more pointed than I had seen
Face covered with moles and eyes so green
Her jacket was torn her hair was a mess
And holes were ladders to the hem of her dress
Before I could catch my breath with time
She began to sing some words of rhyme

Rickety .. Rackety I am a friendly witch
Be my friend and I shall grant you a wish
Just don’t you listen to all they say
Look here us witches are happy and gay
Look here us witches are happy and gay.

Then she told me a story of a witches life
Condemned bad and gone was her right
Burnt at the stake long in the past
But no evil spell did she ever cast
Just helped the people of the wood
For it was not them that misunderstood
It be the greedy ones of her time
Then took the medicine and called it mine
Then took the medicine and called it mine

So the tale they tell of Halloween
Is far from the truth, from what I had seen
Just look little girl as you will see
I may be ugly but evil not me
The cats we kept took care of the mice
And the hats we wore kept our ears from ice
We cleaned our homes with shrub broom
As rosemary and lavender fragrance our room
As rosemary and lavender fragrance our room

Do tell do tell of our nurses today
Witches the same in their own kind of way
Potions and tonics from the herbs of old
Combine the mixture of modern parocetemol 
These wise and gentle ladies of our past
Only took upon one the doctors task
So little ‘O’ bright girl, now do tell me your view
Of withes and nurses do tell who’s who
Of witches and nurses do tell who’s who


Oh sweet lady for judging it is I whom feel the fool
But your memory is of evilness of that you were so cruel
In a sense, innocent I now know you to be
So I shall not run, I shall not turn and flee
The wish of that I ask, to be that of your friend
Now I truly understand this message that you send
No more shall I be afraid or listen to their say
Of all you witches now I know to be so happy and gay
Of all you witches now I know to be so happy and gay

Rickety….Rackety I’m just a friendly so said witch
I possess no magic to grant you a wish
I only cared and took the sick in hand
Using the remedies produced by our land
Using the remedies produced by our                                                                      
land……………………


Details | Rhyme |

The River

I stand here at the edge of the field
Looking and wondering when the water will yield
As I watch the water flow out of sight
I simply wonder what happens at night
You see the river is similar to our life
It has its shares of peace and strife 
It is not a straight road that is followed
Parts of it high, others hollowed
It starts out straight then slowly changes
As human emotion that has many ranges
Then all of a sudden it starts to turn
As friends disrespect us and leave us burned
It is filled with things both evil and good
As us good ones who swear they are hood
But all along the riverbed flowers stand nice
To make it look pretty and add some spice
The flowers are there to live off the water
As an evil friend standing with your son or daughter 
They make us think they are here for us
But when bad things happen we're first under the bus
No one really sees past the horizon
Whether it is being drunk by deer or bison
We can only see life as far as our hand reaches
Always remember it is not always sun and beaches
God has a plan for each of our lives
Even when it looks like we're headed for a dive
As the river flows not knowing where it's going
Just hand your life over to the all knowing


Details | Dramatic monologue |

THOUGHTS ON AFRICA

 
The best of nature lies in thy bosom
mother Africa, the toast of continents
your strength and opulence draw
kings and nobles to endless
rift of spoil sharing and gun trotting. 
Africa! The strength of
the universe, the last bride of
nature with sumptuous virginity
from Somalia to Kenya, deep 
down the creek of Delta to 
the arrogant diamond of the
Zulus, earth cannot rival
thy blessing and extravagant
endowments. 
Shameless kings seek second 
dominance in oil rich north
with flying birds and explosions,
they sowed corruption in Naija
they brought AIDS and HIV with their planes
and then send grants to mock us
Yet the African spirits wax stronger!
Mother Africa,
inside thee lies peace
endowed by creation, but
these evil emissaries of 
violence sowed poverty
and grief in thy land 
knowing the volatile nature of 
thy productivity. Alas, in torrent
we have reaped pains and bloods, 
four years drought in Kenya, two 
months xenophobia in south Africa,
endless genocide in Sudan
endless NATO assault in Libya
with piracy holding sway in
Somalia, oh mama Africa!
yet  thy love intoxicates me
like the tribal white wine of Iwaya!
they tell our stories in biased satellites 
they label us evil and  apish
oh Mama Africa,  arise, arise !
out of thy trial in awesome purity.
Arise! Arise! Arise!
Arise from thy slumber and give
hope to our fleeing children!
Bring them from the south,west
and north and let the 
eastern hemisphere release 
thy heritage.
Now there is war in Africa
but soon there shall be 
unassuming peace and 
discoveries of earth
noble secret in thy enclave.


Details | Prose Poetry |

3Fable5

 3Fable5 
3Fable5 
 
Winter Survival 
 
CharlaxFabels 
 
In the Winter of 83 they used to tell me stories the snow was over the telephone 
lines and they rode horses there and walked them OVER the lines see eh? Oh 
ewe beware the stories of men and read only the charlaxfabels over and over 
again. The worst one was back in 2005 the snow was four feet deep they took 
machetes and tore my roof off my survival tent. 
1 Peter 3:9 
 Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this 
you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. 
Eye moved my shelter somehow avoiding a fight and learned just to survive 
survival is eating food. Men eat and fight and eating becomes the more important 
of the two what kind of neighbor would eye be if eye had fought with thee and not 
learned the Golden Rule. Eye lived several different lifetimes sack lunches do not 
suffice to rule the hunger in one man. Once eye was worried for existence 
seeming Death was at my door. Women thought me evil not suited up just for 
they love. Fruit is not my forte orange apple even pomegranate found 
persimmons rot on vines in trees not meant to live. Eye ate so many meats they 
kicked me out of storeage land and chased me from the parking lot with nothing 
in my hand. Potatoes is a fruit and not a veggie in my world. Golden throbbing 
corn is afforded to the poor ed.note @39 cents a can at most retail outlets. 
Hominy both gold and white is my favorites. Eye just decided to detective the 
students many behavioral ways and iff eye had three classes in the afternoon 
even if they were staggered over SIX hours the eye would not be in the library 
more than thirty minutes at a time. Be that as it may or as it were the ending is 
the same eye am a student of life. Walk in an endless path with snow up to the 
waisted place then dry the socks in bags and tie them to the feet and hope the 
dry will stay to un rot the flesh and hope the shoes will work and not develop 
sticheing of the holes in the side of doors and tankards full of glass. Coyboy is 
the last to understand a memory taken in the hand. 


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