Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Nature Family Poems | Nature Poems About Family

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

Breath of love

I wander in the nature’s green, trees in rows the birds preen Like a gem glimmers the morning dew, with a precious diamond’s hue And flowers bloom as I gaze anew, eggs hatch to welcome lives in queue I can smell the wondrous earth, the distant flow of water in mirth It’s a new dawn another day thereof, wherein I sense his breath of love. As I prod on the old man smiles, he delivers milk by cycling miles Passing the farmers sweet abode, the cry of new life reaches the road A child wails by the neighbour’s door, with a sweet candy her eyes adore Roaming the street is a hound grown, pups trailing behind unknown A jocund street undreamed of, wherein I sense his breath of love. My dearest rush out sighting me afar, without whom my life is a war The tiny tots in their cradles lie, as we sing a lullaby This is the world I am part of, wherein I sense his breath of love. © (4 Feb '15) For the contest 'breath of love' by Gail Angel Doyle * Honourable mention in the contest 'Enter a poem #1' by Poet Destroyer


Details | Sonnet | |

Morning Dew Glistens in Anticipation

Morning Dew Glistens in Anticipation

Glistening of gentle morning dew
soft breeze flowing sweetly along
Thoughts again of life and you
melodies that play a mental song

Trees wrapping this beautiful morn
joyful thoughts now so newly born
Sky filters down its sunlit rays
birds chirp all about on such days

My joy lost has now been found
as the natural world spins  around
Life takes on a sheen of the new
Again my happy thoughts turn to you

Our lives joined, paths forever hold
this deep love that makes us both so bold! 

Robert J. Lindley  09-24-2014

note: Took a Nature hike today. Saw God's beauty all around. 
Very soon I found myself thinking ,yes, that my life came around 
when my wife married me. As if a Spring shower had soothed the 
parched ground. Giving nourishment for the seeds of bliss
to sprout on up and grow.
God, Nature's glow, my wife's love and beauty , our son's 
smiles today made this world turn from bleak and cold to
sunshine and a slice Of heaven. Thank God for Nature's 
beauty and its sweet inspirations.
My brother-in-law David was sent home to die tonight. They can do no more , the cancer will end his life, most likely in the next few days...
I couldn't go there tonight. The helpless feeling slays me so!
I hope to have the courage to go tomorrow morn...


Details | Rispetto | |

Divine Flowers

Divine Flowers 

In a flower’s velvet petals
There dwells a divine scent and hue
Soon a tiny creature settles
That will help pollinate a few.

We are blossoms of our dear God
Born each in colors of our kin.
It matters not our birth of sod
Neither the colors of our skin.



For Andrea Dietrich's "Tell Me Your Number Contest" I am 8  
8 line form  Heroic Rispetto (Month and Day) Path May 3rd. 5+3=8


Details | Narrative | |

Birth, in a Quiet Room

“Well,” She asked; her eyes wide. Beads of hot sweat glistening on her brow like miniature 
crystal suns. Her angst was palpable. “What is it!”
     The air was still. There were no words. Just the sound of bodies breathing in – and 
holding.
     “Congratulations.” He held out his arms, handing the mother, her baby, “You have a son.”
     The moment shone like glass in the center of the heavens – pure and eternal.
     It was redemption from every wrong thing she’d ever done. 
     It was the shining eyes of God smiling onto her exhausted face; lighting it with hope.    
     It was the only place there was – the only time, the only space. 
     It was the only feeling that existed. 
     They were the only two incarnate souls in the room; on the planet, and in the universe.
     This was her child –
     her son.
     And she was his mother.

     (there are no words for such things. suddenly, I feel like an intruder. there are too many 
eyes, words and moments here. so it is here, I take my leave; leaving this mother and the 
only soul in her universe to their perfect moment. they will have many more moments in this 
lifetime; but none as sacred, as human, or as eternal as the first look from life to life; 
mother to child; heaven to earth, as the very first. None.)
     
“It’s a boy.” she whispered. Her throat a crumbling tunnel; stunned, but not really. Like 
she’d known it all along. “My baby boy…” She smiled into his ancient, brand-new face; 
tracing his delicate cheek with the back of her finger. “He’s perfect.” 
     She ran her palm along the bottom of his soft, miraculous foot, and laughed. “Look at 
your feet – they’re huge!”
     And as she wiped the tears with the heel of her shaking hand – smearing what was left of 
her mascara - she looked in to his, as close to heaven as one can get, eyes, and said, “Hi.
I’m your mama.” He smiled at her. He knew. He’d known it all along. “And I’ll love you 
forever…”
     The world closed its shades then. Leaving the sacred to its history; the moment to 
eternity; and their universe to its quiet, little room.
     


*Inspired by Deborah's, You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby, contest; and every mother 
who has graced this sacred room.


Details | Classicism | |

Karma

Karma was my best friend...
Until I fell for her deceitfulness...
She always had my back when others would try to harm me...
I would laugh at her and the way she would play with others emotions...
Not knowing that I would fall as one of her victims...
See Karma is mysterious...
I guess that's why she is perfered as a female dog...
She has no feelings...
That's why she always wins her battles...
Me and her never see eye to eye now...
I guess we're to much alike...
I also have no feelings...
Some may say that's impossible, being a human with no feelings...
Possible...
See,  My mother is Sorrow...
My girlfriend is Pain...
My enemy is Fear, I have none...
I came in the world naked...
So Karma can't take anything from me that is rightfully mine...
So when I leave this Earthly Hell...
I will leave, knowing that I have won the battle that no one else has ever 
Concorde...


Details | Free verse | |

Its Raining...

                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again

                               Amen


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 | Concrete | |

The Place that Shaped Me

  I left my
  heart   in 
 a magical 
  place. A
  place that
  holds years
 of wonder and
 awe. A place that
 knows me  better
 than any  other place
  I’ve been.  This place
  has changed me and 
     molded me into the
       person I am now.
     The forests, trees, creeks,
    and open skies instilled in 
  me a  love for God’s  works. 
The harshness of the winters has 
taught me to be patient and to endure.     My  small
town is where I  learned the  small-town work  ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn  and earning what 
you want takes  a little bit of  sweat  and  tears. Here
I  learned  that  you  don’t  have  to  be  blood  to  be 
family.  Brothers  and  sisters  are  made  throughout
years of school together. We relied on  each other to
be happy. This place will forever  hold my heart and
soul. I  am a small  town  girl  through  and  through. 
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for  shaping  me  into  something  more  than  I  was.


Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees


(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)


Details | Couplet | |

The Mountain Speaks

(This is a "childhood" poem, written many years ago.)

High above the pristine falls
the looming mountain lifts its walls.
A monolith of stony gray,
with bulky lips, it seems to say:
"Eons passed since I've been here;
nothing have I seen to fear
while above my walls, from year to year,
about the world below I peer.
My walls so high, so steep and strong,
protect me well from all that's wrong.
Would that Man below could see
how I keep all harm from me.
Would that he could build a wall
about his home, his family -- all --
to keep them safe from Evil's charm,
which causes Man unending harm."


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 | Dodoitsu | |

White Wedding

Confetti flutters the sky
A bride dressed in pearly white
Footprints pave bright virgin snow
Steps to her future


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 | Rhyme | |

Unlatched

So young myself, I was naive' Without a doubt, I did believe the babe, then latched inside my womb was bound to me, and would always be Latched on, was he, as he was fed Then later on, our hands instead Not tall enough to open gates I'd reach the latch for his escape In time he grew to need more space The bond we had, would stretch in place With loving smiles, I watched him play He longed to grow, and threads grew long He reached to climb, and fly the wind Yet ties remained, still ever strong Years would pass, too soon, a man Old ties would change, yet carry on Love came along, as it should be My eyes, if wise, must let it be This union blessed, was good to see Her love for you, the world could see It didn't mean my son was gone Songs are sung when lovers part But no song for a mother's heart When new adventures come one day Those new roads take him far away The man he is, has been set free To be the man he wants to be The child he was is never gone She's letting go, yet holding on If once, one wish were mine to choose So many do my thoughts pursue But one within my heart still yearns If just one day, the clocks would turn Together you and I would be Sitting here among the trees I would hold you close, upon my knees then turn you loose, to join the leaves...
__________________________________________________ First Poem Submitted To Poetry Soup Written not long after the weddings of all three of my children who were all married within 1-1/2 years of each other! I must have been feeling the empty nest blues and all the changes that came along ! :)


Details | Free verse | |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Two Old Friends

Dusty roads and fresh grass
summertime rodeos approaching fast
riding with a friend down on sandbars 

A piece of hay hanging out of his mouth
though some trapped water, out the other side
I had forgotten this wonderful life

I still see some twenty year old boy helping me up
now a sixty year old man rides in front
pointing all the changes in the last five years

I could not believe what time I lost
4 am to a cowboy is not early enough
my pants soaking wet my boots fixed

We rode on down to his dads favorite spot
to meet God when the sun comes up
we turned to face it and did not say a word

God's spirit was the only thing we heard
as earth to air, and water to fire, met in the sky
right there two old friends prayed to God



 


Details | Verse | |

A Rattlesnake In Georgia

Haiku one of my first poems on soup
rattlesnake Georgia rattlesnake venomous dangerous foe hidden in garden
A Rattlesnake In Georgia Metamorph Revision To the herb garden meandered Some squash needed picking Gloved hands and a six inch long blade No thoughts of snake sticking Rockie our Rat Terrier pet Jumped 'pon retainer wall Then back down as fast as lightning The snake did forward crawl Putting some herbs in the basket. Out of corner of eye Something in a flash moved 'Twas a snake going by Looked like a rat snake mixed in straw "Twas a Copperhead then Sticking him with my blade so hard He crawled off, coiled just when I thought I had him conquered_ he Rattled, raised up, fangs showed Backing off out of reach, gave thought When he dropped, my blade goad He crawled off injured; Hope he died I didn't want him to strike At unprepared family member Enemy still dislike Inspired by: Debbie Guzzi Contest: Metamorph The form is similar to Quatrain but not exactly. It is a form used by Emily Dickinson in many of her poems. It is a type of Poulter's measure. It is 8,6,8,6 with the six rhyming. Verse is a stanza of a poem so these are stanzas or I can change it to Quatrain..


Details | Ballade | |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


Details | Rhyme | |

Where Has Dad Gone, Mama Dear

Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear 
And mad old Abraham

That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire

And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity

So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in

For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar

But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?

Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me 
Do not visit places where you know you should not be

The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods


Details | Rhyme | |

The Daisy




Dancing flowers plop at fullest bloom
in the rustled yellow burnt fields.
It sways an echo after the winds
and hits the grass aside who sheilds.

The dawn casts its tangerine color
after the flattery feilds of Daisies,
and a child runs the sunrays of early dawn
to pick a daisy for her Aunt Stacey.

With her white tipped finger she pricks
herself with yellow honey substance
and tickels it under her nose for scent.
She runs out the fields to her aunt in instance.

She looked at her and smiled, patted her head.
Aunt Stacey spoke, "Honey go play for awhile and I'll meet you
back in."  And the little girl ran out the door.
She put the daisy in a tiny vase where she admired it once more.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Loosing It

  < Early morning,

   Its rainy and dark,

   Quit dull,

   Cloudy and gray,

   Emotions flowing not,

   So dim and sadden,

   Stuck in a zone,

   Feeling all alone,

   Suddenly blacken,

   Now dressed in lace,

   And black satin,

   Emotions flowing all over,

   Yet still lost,

   Dazed and amazed,

   Felt crushed pancake flatten......>






Details | Fibonacci | |

Betrayal Of The Soul

.
A
Young
Mother
Rocks baby
Singing  happy song
Love in its purity bonding
Daddy slips into the arms of another woman


Details | Rhyme | |

A Tree for Life


     Have you ever really looked at a tree?
     Have you ever thought of the ancient roots,
     Those that support it ... to behold its majesty?
     The boughs and limbs carry leaves oh, so green,
     We are again reminded of God's handiwork,
     When we see the budding exuberance ... come the early spring.
      They make us mindful of beauty by their quiet repose,
      They are willowy, and shade us from the harsh summer sun,
      Beneath their gentle sways ... we rest comfortably below.
      Fall ages them and their greens turn to brown.
      As winter's cold blasts blow upon them,
      Do we ever feel their plight ... as their leaves tumble down?
      
      Families are a personal and spiritual tree.
      Their ancient roots so long ago planted, 
      Grow in size and shape and form ... in gifted majesty!
      Generations of limbs and boughs support the child leaves, 
      In every new face God's handiwork,
      Radiant in the splendor of life ... each one of us receives.
      Time slowly ages each one to their own event,
      While we who remain here grow and love,
      Still remembering those whose winter ... we could not prevent.
      It is the strength of their memories we add to our own,
      They give us the values, insights, and perspective,
      Which we in turn pass on ... to the seeds we have sown.


Details | Haiku | |

Lightning Strikes

lightning strikes
mom's kitty cat
what have I done?


Details | Couplet | |

Eagles {Birds of prey}

I am the predator you watch up in the sky
Blessed by the Lord with the keenest of eyes
I nest in the canyons high up on the walls
Keeping my babies safe from it all
When my babies grow hungry and it's time to feed
I rely on my senses to provide what they need
As I take to the sky it's so clear to see
You think of freedom while looking at me
Protected from hunters I've no need to hide
As upon the currents I gracefully glide
As I circle the sky throughout the day
I scour the ground searching for prey
When prey is spotted I go into my dive
Know that speed and accuracy are how I survive
You duck and you dodge for no use at all
With you held in my talons I fly back up the wall
Back to the nest to the fruit of my seed
For you are the food my babies need
Then back to the sky where I notice under a tree
One peaceful poet is writing of me


Details | Couplet | |

Armano the Auracano

Armano the Auracano of Rock Star fame
Will never be singing on his stage again

A fan. a critter, or even a possum 
Has taken his life, he will no longer blossom

He was a handsome dude, tall and preened
With shiny red rustic feathers, and did the girls scream

A newspaper reporter asked his manager Dane
It must be hard for you, as you will miss him playing

Yes i will, things will never be the same
But another star will be born, to look after his dames


Details | I do not know? | |

Freedom from the Wall

Clouds unite
they end all fight
darkness prevails
the bride with no veil
to see with no eyes
why do we despise
as the world does turn
our minds they do churn
thinking too much
my mind loses clutch
and the wall does grow
so high i cannot throw
my words at your mind
they fall short then behind
frustration sets in
as the sun goes to fin
the darkness will win
not i as this is my sin
i will glance with no stare
find the pain that is there
and the wind will be fair
as it carries my prayer
one day you will feel
what i meant to steal
as the darkness will peel
my pain from this real
communicate i cant
i try but its faint
i turn on my pain
i turn on my pain
i turn on my pain
i cannot regain
i want to show the day
that the sun will remain
as the clouds unite
they don't end all fight
it is i that must cite
it is i that must fight
for only i can prevail
only minds can grow stale
if not used you will trail
if not used you will fail
if not seen its your grail
if not noticed your in hell
i will try to tell all
i must try to not fall
only you will be seen
in my eyes of ever clean
that the tears will one day fall
down my cheek in all glory
as they will be of not pain
but rejoice as i gain
and rejoice we shall reign
to the water of no shame
as i finally can blame
no one else for my rain
and all the world will see
it was i that was freed
it was i with no creed
that was released to bleed


Details | Couplet | |

Proud to be a Birdbrain

As I listen to the lark’s surreal melody to her mate.
I wonder does she ever feel there’s too much on her plate?

Ever beside him juggling, tediously feathering the nest,
in her discomfort struggling, incubating without rest. 

I wonder if in her daydreams does she laze as her mind lingers
in bygone days pursued by teams, of young and gallant singers?

Or does she occupy her days with tending her small brood 
not entertaining winsome ways as gaping nibs crave food?

 Does he while out a’gathering, squirming tidbits for their young,
ever give way to lathering ‘cause his work is never done?

Does his keen eye ever wander over lighter creamy breasts
allowing himself to ponder his days of youthful quests,

or does his steadfast honor seek but to gather and bring home
supper for each tiny beak never thinking once to roam?

As I hear the song bird warble, with expectancy to her mate
I’m thankful for each morsel placed in love upon my plate.

And listening to the lark refrain his bride’s devoted call,
I find being called a birdbrain the best compliment of all. 


Details | I do not know? | |

Freaks of Nature

Freaks of nature we are few 
who once were one and now are two. 
God took his hand to part the seed 
for on the earth he saw a need 
for two souls birth and not just one, 
until all work on earth was done. 
Freaks of nature we are few 
who once were one and then were two. 

Two souls did birth and took each life 
to live with love as did their Christ. 
And down life's path they each would turn, 
out on their own so they would learn. 
About man's faith and troubled ways 
and teach of love and God's true grace. 
Called freaks of nature they were few 
who once were one but lived as two. 

Their families grew and moved through life 
and ventured out beyond their sight. 
Soon knowing their job here was done 
and standing with The Shinning Son. 
As each did enter each would leave, 
as God so whispers up each breeze . 
They entered life by God's own hand 
and will return to promised land. 

As life did start and then was two 
God saw now what he was to do, 
Return the broken seed to one 
and make it whole since life was done. 
Once Freaks of nature who were few, 
returns to one, but lived as two. 

        lindadoster 



Details | Free verse | |

Farewell


A yearling asleep 
When its mother arrived
She knew it was time
A green meadow, the best place
It was time to say farewell to her fawn
For he was a young growing buck
She wished him good luck

He would miss being 
A small spotted fawn
Who
Waits patiently for mother
While gnawing the grass
Oh, he would dearly 
Miss those wonderfully
Glorious days