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Nature Lyric Poems | Lyric Poems About Nature

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

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Details | Lyric |

Aster 'Blue Autumn'

(This is a specific type of Aster with full name Aster 'Blue Autumn') Aster 'Blue Autumn,' summer wanes. The shining sky of dusk is drenched in splendor. Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive all to soon-to purloin sun's last rays. Aster 'Blue Autumn,' how you thrive in fields amidst a throng of goldenrod! And always you forego the chill of nights that come to steal away the last of Summer's days. Aster 'Bue Autumn,' Virgo aches, and you're re-birthed from star dust that she cries- to bloom beneath blue skies until the fatal time when breath is snatched . . . Pensively I wait. For Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's ~ Flowers or Stones ~ Poetry Contest


Details | Haiku |

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | I do not know? |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine


Details | Free verse |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | 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...


Details | Lyric |

The Season Inside

Its beauty yet again plunders me, 
Into magnificent realms that hide
Deep within my every thought
Where I ,like a new tenant, 
Seek comfort to reside
In the warm abodes of Winter.

It has come yet again
With its white painted sky
Like a dripping white towel
Whose waters slowly subside
Like a pain that has been eluded,
Avoided, denied

Its gusts that blow across 
The many prolonging miles 
Bringing all windows to shudder
Like lost whispers and voices
Found and compiled
Into a vague resonance.

Its unmelted snow
That at every corner lies
Lingering for the tepid
Sun of Spring to rise 
To melt away
Like an unwanted memory.

And all that it holds
Is but a fraction that glides
Within,
A sheer reflection of the world 
Outside
The snow, wind and rain of
The season inside


Details | Lyric |

Beauty

She remains a partial gift
some have none, yet some have much
for her scales, sideways they tilt
yet we crave her soothing touch.

With jars of scents, ointments and creams
ourselves we paint seeking her face
fanciful, our grotesque masks seems
yet she stays mocking our ways.

But true beauty in these things lie;
the morning dew on thirsty leaves
the new-born sun that's up so high
even in Nature's smiles on lonesome cliffs!


Details | Verse |

The Dark Wood

The Dark Wood ------------------- Far away on the moor, wind creeps quiet: When the golden rays fade and the day's gone; From a nook rustling in the woods of night, Cries a whippoorwill ever and anon. Thickets skirting and swirling untill dawn; She wended her way, swept by Queen Anne's lace; To be cloak'd by dark waters, heap'd upon The sweet enchanted blossoms of her face; The woods dwell in slumber, and shadows hide all trace. In the bosom of night's darkness, she lay Hiding behind the drowsy shades of moon; Once gleaming brook murmurs under the sway Of her gambols in the roses wind strewn, Beneath bowers of a magical rune; A dew spent lingering about afloat, So shall the bleak wind before it dies soon 'pon the autumn wood, fading in dim note; And souls lull'd to repose wearing the midnight coat. ... The form it's been written is in Spenserian Stanza (The stanza consists of eight lines of iambic pentameter followed by a single alexandrine, a twelve-syllable iambic line. rhyme scheme of these lines is "ababbcbcc.") .. For the Contest: Metrical Verse Sponsored by Giorgio Veneto For the Contest: Nature Poems old/ new Sponsored by Poet Destroyer Written by Gautami Phookan


Details | Lyric |

Fairies in the Garden

My garden brings the fairies,
You will never know the hour.
The sun may just be peeping
Past the apple tree in flow'r.
See them? No! But I discern
Pixie clues they leave behind:
The fragrant thyme they danced upon . . .
I am always sure to find
A dewdrop mirror clinging
To a blossom hanging low;
I hear their tinkling laughter
When the breezes softly blow.
Sometimes I think I spy them
Riding on a firefly's back
At dusk above the garden,
But their pathway's hard to track.
Jumping off, hiding themselves
In moss blankets--soft delights--
Their flying steeds unharnessed.
"Go to sleep, my garden sprites."


Details | Free verse |

Jungle Love

Your sweet nectar
wraps around my senses
like jungle vines
steady drums beating
Your heart near mine

Your strong hands
hold me suspended
by my waist
Just enough pain and strength
against my supple skin
For my taste

The musk of your
sculpted body and the forest
has me going wild
But yet, the tender way you
protect me, reminds me of
Being a child

A safe familiarity
with a strain of animalistic
seduction
Your invisible hold over me
leaves me arrow poisoned
Unable to function

My long dark hair wraps you
with smells of coconut and ocean Sun
your locks full of mud and enemies
Blood
together, my warrior
We make One



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