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Childhood Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Childhood

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

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Details | Free verse |

Wild Cherries

A giant snowball in springtime
From twenty yards out the sound and smell
Closer now; breathing her numbing scent
Listening to the drowsy hum
of greedy and jealous bees
forced to share her bounty
with Tiger and Zebra Swallowtails
School will be out soon...

Memorizing every branch within reach
Her limbs are just low enough
for a boy to scramble up quickly
fleeing imaginary monsters
still lurking and prowling below
Taking ignorant and blissful advantage
of this daughter of the wild; his protector
His big sister to run to...

Shiny and slippery black bark
that oozes burgundy sap
which dries in animal shapes
Summer twilight is coming
Bats twittering overhead
chasing nasty mosquitoes
A noise echoing from far off
A door slamming maybe...

Tucked safely away in his favorite pew
(Naughty boy, eating during church!)
sampling her forbidden fruit
sweet and sour...half is seed
Thieving Blue Jays get the most
Screaming and scolding arrogantly
yet flying away unpunished
Grannny will make jelly...

Oh everlasting Father, creator of all things
He knows that heaven is far beyond the grasp
of a feeble and fumbling mortal mind
But when You decide to send Your beloved Son
back to rule the earth for one thousand years
If he is judged worthy to be in that count
May one humble servant say if it's like this
that would be just fine...

By: Tim Ryerson


Details | Personification |

Pulse

One moist patch, like dewy grass,
surrounded by a field of weeds,
emerges first and breathes at last, 
through openings, the air it needs.
Cut off from, and cut off of;
counting on, and counting in;
from down below, to up above - 
A smack on tender, crimson skin.
	There is a pulse.

One spring bud, like seedling stems,
surrounded by a garden wall,
is standing out from all of them, 
despite the fact, they're just as tall.
And though the bud has not yet grown,
the soil and the water see
more than just the seed they've sewn.
They see the flower it will be.
	There is a pulse.

One tall stem, like climbing vines,
surrounded by its petals' plumes,
shares its elegant designs,
and stretches as it blooms.
And when the wind begins to call,
the flower spreads it's pollen 'round.
It falls in love, and loves in fall,
and falling love renews the ground.
	There is a pulse.


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 | Free verse |

Blue Harvest Moon

Comes silently
on sorrel moccasins

roosted on tortoiseshell
of root cellar

singing, stumbling
in numb imaginings

lit with half-light
vegetables
squeezed in jars
of russet and avocado

above
a cornice of sky
split with laughter
searching
for broken arrowheads
gold and silver among leaves

air billowed white
from lips
soft frail bones
of snowflakes
magically appear
scattering in breath
taken away
into apple night


Details | Haiku |

an orange peel scent

an orange peel scent 
reminds me of grandmother---
my knarled hands


Details | Lyric |

The Wildflower

   
 It could have been you
       Hiding behind the post
           Stretching out your arms
               Your tiny face upturned 
                      To the early morning sun
                            Waving at me softly
                                 While swaying with the breeze
                                     It was only wishful thinking...
                                            But you look so much the same
                                                 that I walked a little closer
                                                      and nearly called your name
                                                         A scent so very subtle
                                                           Drifted through the air
                                                            Reminding me of the last time
                                                             I tied a ribbon in your hair

                                                           I picked the wildflower for you
                                                           But you’re much too far away
                                                          Shall wilt before you see it
                                                        This one I picked today
                                                      Against the velvet petals
                                                   You won’t get to press your face
                                                But together we will pick the one
                                            That grows up in its place
                                         I’ll save this in our special book
                                     Pressed between the pages
                                And hide it in our secret place
                            We’ve known about for ages
                       The next time that you come again....
                You’ll know right where to look!


Details | Rhyme |

A PHOTOGRAPHER LIVES WHAT HE FEELS

It can be an orchard with peach trees against patches of blue 
as they swerve downhill and meet the foaming sea,
see him capture an indelible moment after
moment until he's amazed by that wonder
to have captured a breathtaking view...
which will be eternally frozen in his memory.



A photographer lives what he feels,
wouldn't it be a celebrity on high heels,
or the most gorgeous child cuddling a puppy
that she saw shivering when snow fell in February?
Didn't he anxiously climb that remote, sun-sunken mount rising in the East...
to find tiger cubs suckling from their mother as she watched a flock of sheep?


Details | Free verse |

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN A parent's lament

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN   A parent's lament

Children
   	with Wings
    	and Talons
Pounce on the fleetest of hearts
 their
 
Memories	

Soar        
                 over the
                 Blood Transfusions
    		Hospital frights of prematurity
             			 of EMS sirens
                              HIV trembling tests 
   		 Asthma Tents
   	
                Breathless Worry atop cloud kissed Trees
   		
                Sleepless Nights of bully battles
  		
                Struggles with Education’s foes
   		
                 Mad Escapes from Fathers of Violence
   		
                 The teary wave good bye for fledgling endeavors
			Day night day night day night…unending
   	and

Land  on

      Slight Imperfections and Imagined Slights
            or the

Shortage of Cash
        for  
                    Trips
                    Technoshit
                    New Shoes 
                    New Cars
	or other
Dreams
                         You 
                      Couldn’t
                         Buy.
 


Details | Free verse |

Tadpoling parts 1 and 2

part 1 

We bend low under over-hanging branches
lit by reflected river-light gently shifting. 
Our boots suck the muddy bank.
We wade into clear water
the dappled up-light playing 
on our  serious faces.
Intent on our task
hands plunge. 
Cold-shocked I gasp.
You hold your jar steady.
I scoop mine.
Triumphant in a shower of icy prisms 
we hold our prizes aloft,
laughing and shouting,
water streaming down our arms,
jars teeming with tadpoles.
Faces pressed close 
to these underwater worlds,
we stand transfixed.
Each reflects a small disc
of sparkling  sky.

part 2 

April trees rake scudding clouds.
Far away farm dogs bark
at wind-snatched shouts 
of bird-nesting boys.
Somewhere, a cuckoo calls.

In the back garden
a blackbird stakes out his territory.
Ignoring him the cat purrs,
yawning in the sun.

While unnoticed 
on the garden table
beside a upturned jar, 
a sprinkling
of flattened tadpoles
commas
drying in the sun.

The bored cat
saunters by,
her tail held high
in the shape 
of a question mark.


Details | Ballade |

My three trees

My three trees

When I was a young lad, I lived in a jungle
A jungle of concrete and bricks
We had there but few birds, and yards without flowers
At times it did make me so sick
For I loved the forests all filled with lush growth
That I’d seen in the books I had read
And life there in Peckham it did nothing to me
It seemed to be dull, and quite dead.

And yet in our front yard there lived these three trees
And oh, how I loved them, I did
They filled with lush growth in spring and the summer
And then their rich growth it was hid
Until the next spring it would come back to life
And oh, how I loved to see this
When the sun did shine down on this beautiful foliage
My young heart was filled with such bliss.

Then one day in winter my father chopped down
These wonderful trees I did love
I cried, and I cried, and I sent all my anger
It must have reached Heaven above
For when the spring came those stumps they were loaded
With wonderful Foliage again
Those trees they lived on and I was delighted
That my dad tried to kill them in vain.

11 June 2014 @ 1155hrs.






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