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Nature Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Nature

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

On My Porch

Some days the birds come out They sing there beautiful song They envelope my senses I harbor their harmonious tunes I long to hear them all my days There are days when the sky is clear The sky would be a cerulean blue With white high cotton clouds I lift my eyes toward the sun And take in all of its golden rays My pupils become very small Just small specks in my eyes Just then I see the tree-line A magnificent sight to behold Each tree within the calm cluster Is filled with the beginning of life Just as are some of the unknown flowers That are alongside of the house Those flowers that have been struggling Struggling through these harsh days The weather has been rough for all nature The birds, the trees, and the flowers All have had a hard time adjusting To the tremendous swings of temperature Cold to warm, warm to cold And everything in between My porch is a calming place A place where I like to relax Though today has been raining Still it’s a calming rain, but very cold I wish I could hear the birds And see the clear day With the sun’s warmth all over me And I could see nature with its beauty But now I see another part of nature In its own beauty, the nurturing rain Without this nothing would survive So I still smile on days like this The peaceful constant rain on the porch I can only stand staying out so long Because it’s too cold, it’s freezing out But I still wanted to feel this part of nature A real part of life, an influence to one’s soul It never gets old coming out to my porch I always bond with all of nature No matter what that nature is that day Warm and cloudy, hot and sticky Cold and frigid, humid, stale, and calm All of which are important in life And I like to experience each one of them Nature has its good days, and its bad And I like to be in the middle of all of them Now I will come in and will await Await the time when I will come back out again Tonight, tomorrow, or whatever time I will venture out to my porch And enjoy my time here, with nature
Russell Sivey Written per the request by my friend Sara Kendrick


Details | Prose Poetry |

Urban Forest

  All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens.  A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind. 

   I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Her Name was Autumn

 
Thoughts of " Autumn " and her " off Spring" 
Seasons change as do people...
Her name is Autumn...
She quietly puts her mark the on Season ….
Yet no one sees her there..
She has a certain presence, still …
and her perfume fills the air..
Yet no one speaks to her…
Her colors are not light, but bright…
reds, yellows and orange, quite a sight…
But even though , she’s more than that…
No one approaches, some don’t seem to care..
So she quietly leaves ...before all the trees are bare...


Details | Prose Poetry |

ben reine ny hoie

Supermoon picture: Manila, Philippines, on March 19, 2011 (biggest full moon of the year) The wind laughs softly The full moon with the stars In the sky, As I lie near the fountain Gazing at the Exquisite beauty Of the nature. It's the charm of the moon Opens so many thoughts And dreams. The moon Looks like a beautiful Ballerina Dancing with the troop of The professional stars. Twisting carelessly with the Elegance of a swan Through the lilac beauty Of the spring time. The sky seems a bandanna. A dewy freshness Fills my heart and soul. How beautiful is the night, I captivated, enchanted. Oh! Gealach, ben reine ny hoie. _________________________ "Gealach" means......Brightness, "ben reine ny hoie" means.....Queen of the night. The language of the Isle of Man. _________________________ The moon and the moon poetry in general seems to dispel the human centredness that we all suffer from. Thank you for reading. Chitta.


Details | Prose Poetry |

'A thing of nature'

A flower breaks out afresh from its swollen, 
green bud and then stretches outward into 
the sun-drenched sky.

A thing of nature that's timeless
and perennial, it faithfully blooms and
adorns its surroundings like its predecessors.

Never alone, it is joined by its floral neighbors
of its own kind in fragrant numbers, suffusing 
the atmosphere all around with a heavy, yet 
sweet stench of lavender and honeysuckle.

The thick odor seduces and encourages the
flower-borne bees, hornets, and yellow-
jackets nearby into a steady rhythm and pulse 
of continuous labor over the pollen-rich 
blossoms and perfumed, colorfully-tinted 
petals. From an adjacent pond the over-
abundant and unsubtle beauty of the 
lily-of-the-valleys add their distinctiveness 
to the already rich and lush floral landscape, 
now teeming with the life and vigor of 
spring in full bloom.


 


Details | Prose Poetry |

Mist Rising

As I sit alone on this rocky shore. The mist rises around my feet and I long for much, much 
more. Just to go out to sea and meet the horizon just you and me in our blazon. To feel the 
salt water as we sail away to enjoy the beauty of this day in this very protected bay.  To kiss 
the rose of early bright.  Maybe stay way into the night and see the moon and billions of 
stars. Reach up and touch the loving God.  The one who made you for me and made the sea 
and misty shores that consumes all my lonely and tiresome chores.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Who

I stepped out on my lawn tonight
To catch a breath or two
Of cool night air when with a blare
An Owl questioned "Who?".

"Well, it is I", was my reply
"And now, just who are you?"
Then in a short he did report 
Again with that same "Who". 

"You", I said, "Is who", I said
With some authority
"Now who are thee, up in that tree?"
And "Who" again said he. 

"Oh! Now I see, when uttered thee
From high up in that tree
'Who' was thy introduction
And not a question be. 

So, Who is you and I am me. 
I'm glad we talked this out. 
Come again my feathered friend
You're welcome here about."


Details | Prose Poetry |

November Rain

Amidst of November… But rain starts to fall everywhere The wind blows so tender And it really makes me feel shiver Birds are flying here and there Having no place to hide from the rain And while I ‘am sitting near the windowpane As I watch the drizzle and feels so vain Thinking, how I love to see the sweet November rain…


Details | Prose Poetry |

Sand Castles II

The castle stood with majesty.
The child stood justly proud.
Both night and sea stood patiently,
In hand the castle's shroud.

My thinking now became serene,
Of things small and sublime.
How I saw all played in that scene
Of man, his deeds and time. 

But here I raise a quandary.
I question thee a tad. 
Are we the castle stately?
Or, are we the lad?

Are we the child? Are we the sand?
We're either, can't you see?
Both built and build to pass away
With time our ebbing sea. 

The tide we face is Father Time.
Aren't we but molded clay?
Just like that castle so sublime
We are not here to stay. 

Yet like that child in spring of life,
His days are numbered still.
Just like the grains of sand it took
To stir this old man's quill.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Hunting for Spring

We’re so tired, of winter’s, snow and ice,
For too long, we have been, within our house, winter’s price.
Why won’t you come, to visit us, and sing?
Where we’ll be touched, by your sun, so heartily, beaming.
Oh where! Oh where! Are you, our sweet Spring?
We need you, so very longingly!

We saw you peak out, for just one day.
Then you quickly, and suddenly, ran so very far away.
So we did a Rain Dance, and danced in the cold.
Without your shinning brightness, all we got, was cold snow!
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
Why did you run, so very far, with your blessing!

We sought the Groundhog, that he ask you, to come back.
But he was burrowed, deep beneath, all the snow, and ice pack.
He wouldn’t open his door, as we knocked, true and hard.
He refused, to even come out, as he denied the pleas, of this bard!
Oh where! Oh where! Are you, our precious, sweet Spring?
We beseech thee, to please come back, to me!

The trees want to bloom; their sprouts are ready, to collect.
Our hearts are there beside them, under this winter, and it’s effects.
We’ll sit here, dreaming of the beauty, only you can affect.
We’re hopeful, can’t wait, but now at March’s mercy, and redirect.
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
Our hearts and souls want to be warmed by thee!

What? Dragon and I see you! We rejoice my friend!
Our hearts, like the trees, are beginning, to warm again.
The snow is leaving; all is greening, before our eyes.
We beg you, to please stay here, solidly, close by our side.
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
At last! It doesn’t matter! We have you back, and all that you bring!

Written for my good Friend Jack Ellison.


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