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Nature Child Poems | Nature Poems About Child

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

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Details | Prose | |

Child of the Elements

I am a rock; earth, air, fire and water;
a child of the elements.
I grow and erode; 
my greatest strength is stillness; 
my voice, the silence.

I am a tree, a child of the elements.  
I grow and decay; 
shedding leaves and bark.
My voice is a whisper; 
my strength is the stillness; 
though I bow to the winds.  
Immobile am I; a conundrum of nature.

I am a mountain; a child of the elements.  
I grow and erode, by layers.  
my strength is the stillness;  
My purpose is a home for rock, tree and beast.  

I am a human, a child of the elements.
I grow and decay like everything else.
My voice is a gift; 
my strength is the still silence, 
where I rarely go.
Haphazardly, I run amok; 
relying too much on things I create, 
instead of my silent strength.

My greed crushes the rocks; 
destroys the trees;.  
My ego dynamites the mountains; 
poisons the water and air.
Because of me, the earth and her children, suffer.  
Wallowing in my greed and ignorance; 
my siblings of the elements, are dispensable.

I am a human, a child of the elements.  
I destroy because I ignore,
the still silence; my strength.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser

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

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty

Details | I do not know? | |

Don't Worry Child

Don't worry child
Don't cry
Don't let fear
Find you

Don’t worry child
The life
Still needs you
You will find life
When you find

Don’t worry child
Don’t die
Beside the cold trees
Find your way out
Find the life inside

Don’t worry child
May the branches of doubt
Lead you to the leaves
Where everything is calm and green
Away from the screaming steam

Don’t worry child
in the forest
Deep inside
Between the ashes and shadows
A mystic soul shines
Among the trees of life
Always by your side

Don’t worry child
Don’t cry
Find life
inside you
Don’t die
Your soul is bright
Your tree will shine
You will find
You are one of a kind
So Don’t worry child!

Copyright © Mostafa Ibraheim

Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Tide

The busy Moon forgot about the Tide.
She left it out all day upon the sand.
And when it found itself alone topside,
there mischief was immediately at hand.

It washed the muddy Rocks until they shone,
then dragged in trash to mess them up again,
it chilled the chubby babies to the bone
and tugged their pudgy feet to pull them in.

It rearranged the peaceful ocean floor
and wrapped the kelp into a tangled wreath,
then turned up all the driftwood on the shore
and tickled every creature underneath.

It tricked the Fishermen it came across
by pulling at the lines they'd cast about,
took cages that it saw the Trappers toss
and let the little Crabs and Lobsters out.

It fooled with every Fish that floated by,
it sprayed the Seagulls when they flew too near,
it pooled in spots it KNEW the Sun liked dry
and played with all the boats along the pier. 

It sueezed the baby Squid until they laughed
then painted funny pictures with their ink
and after it had taught them all this craft,
it swirled away like water down a sink.

It called to Clouds that hung around the sky
and asked to meet them halfway in between
then teased them until they began to cry
but just to make it rain, not to be mean...

The Tide adored its mischief and it would
have gleefully continued on its spree
but for the Moon, who for the greater good,
came up at last and let it out to sea!

Copyright © Lycia Harding

Details | Rhyme | |


The tarantula built  
a web in the upper-left corner of my patio;
she weaved it perfectly as Antonio
rose on his wobbling feet to reach it.

That boy didn't know that 
spiders get vicious and suddenly bite 
when someone tries to grab them for spite,
and Antonio tried to pull it down with a tiny twig...
no, it didn't work, so he tried again with a long stick;
oh, once a garden spider got stuck into his mom's wig! 

" Antonio, put it down,
before it crawls onto your skin! "
The spider will bite you on the cheek
and you'll be doing the Tarantula Dance! "
I yelled by taking the stick away from him with extreme force.
" No, I like that spider...that's the one I want to keep! "
He rebelled with a grin, transforming himself into a beast.
" OK, you can keep it, but remember spiders creep! "
I warned him and told him to wear a mask and just peak.  

The tarantula built a web where rain or storms
never soaked it, and scorching sun rays
never melted laborious she was in summer's long days!
We watched it going to and fro searching for food for her little one
as we took daily videos and had fun watching them!
After all, I realized that a spider is not dangerous...if left alone;
and Antonio kept his distance by warning other boys
that trying to catch a tarantula is a very dangerous game!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |

Child of Rain and Stone

She rages! Child of Rain and Stone...

Stone, easing not the falls she takes,
takes leave. Soon, she must rise alone.

Alone, he grieves until she wakes.

Copyright © Lycia Harding

Details | Rhyme | |

Harvest Thanksgiving

I do so love harvest thanksgiving, 
That time of year which celebrates agriculture, 
When church flips from being god-centred, 
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.  

It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion, 
‘Cos tins are given no problem; 
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better, 
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior. 

As a child who regretfully attended church, 
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank, 
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living. 

No food bank is respectable, of course, 
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day, 
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely. 

God is sometimes just such an abstraction, 
Academically, he’s for the objective mind; 
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind. 

When you just need a meal on the table, 
And need it supplied by someone else, 
Whether by government, food bank or church, 
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse. 

I thought it was moral to impose that on believers, 
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot, 
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods, 
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.  

Being grateful for food, diet and health, 
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible, 
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force. 

Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance, 
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job; 
It’s that occupation and training which ensures, 
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.

The harvest basket every year means to me hope, 
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average, 
That this real examination is something to advocate. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan

Details | Ode | |

Child of Spring

In this passage of time
I long for the month of my birth
a real child of the spring am I
born on the Vernal Equinox
I come fully alive in spring

The sights and sounds of spring
do hold me in enthral
the beauty of each emerging bud
and oh to enjoy the warmth of sun

The busy work of nesting birds
the joyful songs they do emit
filling the world with wonder
as busily they feed their chicks

The carpets of the spring flowers
strewn here and there at random
gallant bluebells wave their trumpets
while stately daffodils bow their heads

All these bring such joy and lightness
to this weary old soul of mine
giving me the kick I need
to put away the winter blues

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Limerick | |

There's No Place Like Home

Once was a gal who felt so alone
Tornato came up rooted farms home
Landed on wicked  witch
Munchkins came out of ditch
Gave dog lollypops instead of bone  

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |

Child of the Universe

A child of the Universe

As a child of universe
I’m part of everything
I am the tree’s, the flowers too
The birds that gently sing
The rivers, forests, moon, and sun
The oceans vast, and wide
I am this Universe, I am
 I am life so deified

Everything is part of me
And part of it, am I
I am you, and you are me
And I can never die
For when this shell does dissipate
The circles, they go on
The stories come, the stories go
Yet nothings really gone
I’m a child of the Universe
In fact I am the whole
This being who does think he’s me
He appears to play this role
Then sinks into the Universe
To have himself a rest
Then comes another story
Of fear or happiness

20 December 2014

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | ekphrasis | |

Bear Child

This writing is my interpretation of the Susan Boulet's painting "Bear Child"

*Bear Child*

Docile and tame as a young child
The bear hugged every opportunity to come close to man
To peer into the everyday lives of what they had planned
For fear they would travel upon his path

He wasn’t like all the rest
Filled with hope and a breath of optimism
What could this man bring to his everyday solitude?
Perhaps they could embrace and become friends
With his outstretched paws he reached out to mankind
Never intending to learn of his power
With outstretched hands he lent them his heart

Mankind’s heart on the other hand a different plan
He wanted to conquer the bear and every beast of the field
To show that he had all the thunder
Til the grizzly cried out and firmly placed his foot on the ground
The vibration made the cruel man shudder
To what did this bear owe mankind but a moment of serene favor?
He sought to peer into the hearts of the beasts on his path
Never imagining that he would become their prey
He took all he could muster
All the energy in his chest and growled like the pine forests trembling
He stood on his path all beaten and worn and hoped 
That the message he was sending
“Beware of this bear who will stalk you like a wolf”
His existence he will be defending

Gwendolen Rix

Copyright © Gwendolen Rix

Details | Verse | |

The Feather

The feather had started its life as part of a bird's plumage
until one day it was preened out and left on the ground
A warrior chief finding it added it to his headdress
where it rode into many bloody battles with him
until it was wrenched out by a tree's branches
trapped there fluttering in the light breeze
it was found by a man who took it for his wife
she added to her Sunday hat and wore it to church.

Starting to look very bedraggled she took it out
she was going to throw it away but her daughter
pleaded to be allowed to have it for her collection
and there it rested for many years as a trophy.
The feather had started life bright and jaunty
now in its last days it had faded and become shredded
I wonder what tales you could tell us, the lady thought
as with a sigh she took it outside and let the breeze take it.

written 08/05/2014


Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Free verse | |

The Autumn Affect

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench 
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy 
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home

Copyright © Jesse James Forster

Details | Free verse | |


It's a November
when I find myself walking 
My hand holding yours
Side by side arms swaying
Your little fingers interlocking with mine.
I believe it is a happy day.
I think it shows on your little sun-tanned face.
I feel it myself from deep within.
Slowly welling up like a spring of water
From a dry ground, long athirst.
I see the sun walking along gently in pace with us
Touching your brown nose and passing your limbs.
Blessing you with a soft radiance and blissful joy a child can only know.
Your school uniform lighter than cerulean sky 
Matching your gaiety, perfecting a mother-child moment.
Dotting the passing clouds with pure colors of your innocence and laughter.
Gigantic floating cotton balls of clouds
like stringed balloons; oh, please hold onto them, 
cease 'em before away they fly.
A moment to treasure when things aren't as happy as they should.
A many of this I pray to come,
A joyful carefree walk with my little boy;
Now, a mother's hand held by her small son.

Copyright © Wendy Meyer

Details | Light Poetry | |

Do you like Pigeons Dad

‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’

“Oh No”

‘But Why?’

“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”

‘That can’t be right Dad’

“It is”

‘How So?’

“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”

‘Are you sure dad’

“Oh Yes”

‘Since when?’

“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”

‘But I like Pigeons Dad’

“I know
You do”

‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’

“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Not now.
Not ever.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”

'But Daaaad…

...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’


[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]

Copyright © David Sollis

Details | Verse | |


Christ, avatar.
One Christmas star
Cosmos ajar.
Life dusts disperse.

A child of God
Like trees in sod.
All on Earth laud.
One universe.

December 8, 2014

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: DESIDERATA 
Sponsor	nette onclaud

I Chose Theme #2

NOTE: av·a·tar
1.	1.
a manifestation of a deity or released soul in bodily form on earth; an incarnate divine teacher.

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 3-14-15

brown eyes smile 
under wide-brimmed hat -
tug on cane pole

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

Details | Haiku | |

appalachian trail

long after midnight

he points out the big dipper...

grass for our pillows

for Charles Henderson's Contest: "No Contest Contest"
/resubmitted for PD's Contest "Any haiku will do"

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Personification | |

Mother's Favorite Child

I am Mother Nature's earned retreat
and she surely has her reasons,
she needs a break from the demands,
made by the other seasons.

Spring insists on soft pastels,
Fall boasts orange hues bright,
Summer spins her color wheel.
Me? I'm fine in white.

When mother lays her paintbrush down,
I do my very best,
to sketch a silver tapestry,
while she takes a rest.

On the shoulders of a North wind
my icy fingers freeze, while
lacy snowflakes dance and sway
like diamonds in the breeze.

Known as January,
I’m beautiful, windy and wild,
always welcoming me with open arms,
I'm Mother Nature's favorite child.

Copyright © Liz Labadie-Reilly

Details | Ballad | |

Spring Surprise

Who remembers, is it only me?
When March had drizzled, and April fooled us...
But a morning in the month of May.........

We'd spread upon a kitchen table 
Paste made of flour, scissors, borrowed
paper, crayons of rainbow colors 
Pretty paper doilies and….
Mama letting little hands
Create surprises, of cone shaped fans… 

The memory shrugs so many years 
Where innocence, was cut and shaped
Into bright-sprigged paper cones
Accomplishments, each of our own

   On May the first, a small bouquet
   We would rehearse, a verse to say
   To spread come spring, then run away

Then quickly running out the door
To pick spring beauties, one by one
Fresh Lillies of the Valley, wildwood fern, 
Gathering them, heavy on their stems
Sweet and fresh as morning dew, 
So filled with springtime, filled with bloom

Then paper cones were flower filled
Small bouquets of sweet perfume
Then down the dusty road we trudged
Side by side, with grins of pride
No greater pleasure as a child
The thought of bringing someone smiles

       On May the first, a small bouquet
       We would rehearse, a verse to say
       To spread come spring, then run away

Timid knocking on a door
 “Surprise...Surprise! Look what’s in store!”
Our little legs now running fast, 
And down the road, quite out of breath
Behind a tree, where we would hide
And watch them find this flower prize
Must not....get caught.....must not get caught!
And we were taught
That bringing gifts to make them sigh
Was worth a lot !! Was worth the thought
A thoughtful way to light their eyes

      On May the first, a small bouquet
      We would rehearse, a verse to say
      To spread come spring, then run away 


Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Blank verse | |

Wild Portland Marion berries

The wild berries of the Northwest 
it seems every path you walk on , they are there for you to sample ,

Almost as The city of Portland  itself is welcoming you with astonishing beauty, the view of a snow tipped Volcano , as if greeting you  with a basket full of fresh wild Marion berries 

The beauty, just picked plump , the color of dark purple 
a fragrance to savor , what will I do ?
will I make a pie or preserves ?
Oh the pancakes and waffles , the Tillamook ice cream is a must ~ 

After rinsing the fresh picked Berries with water and dusting them with fine Sugar , a hint of cinnamon  , if pie , waffle , or cake . maybe just plain ,
serve with whipped cream made from scratch and a leaf of mint .

The Salmon , the berries , roses and apples all in the Great Northwest ,
You may visit however be warned , for many have come this way
Many have travelled a far , 

For the great Spirit of This Northwest will encompass and astound you .
Begging your soul to stay and  live the way of a Portlander .

Give me rain I say , for the green here will blind you, it is
 like walking off the black and white set of Wizard of Oz,
and opening the amazing door to Colors .

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Pantoum | |


I’d always wish you had a good night sleep
Upon the hammock or by mama’s arms.
If, by chance, you wake before sunup’s peep,
I’ll show you that the world is full of charms.

I’ll take you to the place I was before
Where youthful dreams and hopes once burst and grew,
That urban city can provide no more
When childish ray would play with morning dew.

Come, son, feel the warmth as they welcome you!
Listen to the birds, the brook in harmony!
Look up before the rainbow’s complex hue!
And watch the grasses dance in synchrony!

I’d take you to the place where we must be – 
A home that gives us real and pure refuge
And shows the young what they are ought to see.
With mama’s love we’ll build a home so huge.

10 July 2014
9:02 PM

Copyright © Sherwin Balbuena

Details | Free verse | |

Goat Unaware

 Goat Unaware
Didn’t know a goat had to die
To make grandma’s dish so delicious. 

Fileted meat
Marinated in herb and spice:
Onion, garlic, black pepper, clove and thyme
Pan griddled, embracing black char
Simmer in oil

Sizzling, a snake’s hiss 
Aroma drew nose near, from afar
A dinner’s delight
A black fur billy goat
Eyes starring widely
Chewed green, so unaware
Doomed for demise
To adorn dinner plates
 Prey to the hunter’s ritual 
Age old, as time
Sharp blade placed to throat
Its red soaked the earth
Free -verse by Marckincia Jean

Copyright © Marckincia Jean

Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | I do not know? | |

You, Me, Us, Everyone

Not named
Unknown to those with no curiosity
Buds, that dream of one day blooming
Being, more than they are
Flowers living
Touched by those who love
Protected by those who wish to love
Wishing to be more than they are
Buds, not truly knowing if they are ready for the world
Hoping they are strong enough 
Wishing to be the best
You, Me, Us, Everyone

Copyright © Michi Watts

Details | Rhyme | |



Yippee, yippee
So wonderful I feel
I’m dancing, always dancing
My life is such a thrill
The flowers outside are blooming
The birds, they sing for me
The sun is shining brilliantly
So I just say ‘Yippee!’

I’m old yet I’m so happy
I have no gripes at all
My life is flowing like a dream
It’s all so beautiful
I feel just like a child
Having fun and feeling free
The power is deep within me
So beautiful life be

Yippee, yippee
I suppose one day I’ll die
But I’m going to keep on dancing
I’ve not got time to cry
I live for all this beauty
I Love this ecstasy
I know my days are getting long
But I just say ‘yippee!’

28 April 2015

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Sea Lion Woman

Silver women with fragile spines
Lonely during the week, they must be doing something right
The loneliness doesn’t affect them, and they don’t want to scream and shout
Daily feelings of sadness, sometimes are beautiful and sometimes are loud 

These women transformed themselves in statues made of seam and dreams 
So they can stay in their days willing to give, care and redeem
Time isn’t the problem, but let there be courage to move forward old days of resembling habits 
Make them brave, and they would be the Sea Lion Woman of their own credits

Copyright © Andressa Monteiro

Details | Haiku | |

a wide-eyed child

a wide-eyed child
leaps into a woman’s arms –
a butterfly lands

By Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Copyright January 20, 2014

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Beauty 
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Details | Free verse | |

Have You Ever Read

Dedicated to an author by the name of William Golding... Enjoy!!!

~Two boys meet on an island
~~One is skin 'n bones
~~~The other one is chubby

They discover a lagoon~
Ralph teases him by calling~~
him "Piggy" -  how mean!!~~~

Piggy asks him if
There are other people on 
The island with 'em

He has no clue
But this'll answer Piggy's question --
Other boys appear - 
All diverse shapes and sizes
What'll happen next??

You'll see...

Have you ever read The Lord of the Flies?
I recommend it if yah haven't read it yet - I must admit
It's a book full of adult words and it's simply...FASCINATING! - no lies
You should read it - or you'll regret it!

Copyright © J. W. Earnings

Details | Free verse | |


Show me who you are and i shall paint out broken columns on the valleys of her back as if such figure is un-common
i have found no beauty bending as the vines that are her hair and the frailty of man upon her back is what she bares
bleed her body for the harvest let them feast upon her soul for the nurishment of mother is leaps beyond so bold
she is like the flower growing in the deepest of dark forests,amongst the ivy and hemlock but her skin is much too porous
to concern herself with games that tantalize the men, as they marry on crusade it is her children that she tends
sheath your swords with her ambition and tip your arrows with her will, craft your armour from her strength and in the battle you will kill
come now children from the pasture and lay each upon her side, suckle gently at your mother although theirs pain she does not hide
though the water leaks from rooftops her leaves are thick and block the rain, as the water level rises cling to her branches with no shame
she is the stone upon the beach, once a mountain pound and breached
yet still her disposition clear to love her children that are near

inspired by Roots Frida Kahlo, 1907-1954

Copyright © chriss todd