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Prose Poetry Nature Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Nature

These Prose Poetry Nature poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Nature 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

Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013

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.

Copyright © amy epiphany tunks | Year Posted 2012

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...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In the mood for love


Radiant beams of Aubade,
Basking brilliant aura,
Sun is in the mood......

Ramifying fragrance of florets 
And aroma of plants,
Wind is in the mood.....

Nurturing spirit into seedlings,
Blooming  plants and all mortals
Water is in the mood........

Blessing us with soulmates, pals
And little ones,
Toning the ambiance and climate,
The creator is in the mood......

Bestow upon us thy commendation
Oh lord !
Glorify us with divine crotchet !!


Written on 17/5/13
Contrast - on nature #3
Sponsor- PD A


Featured poem of the week- Dec 13th, 2015

Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2013

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.

Copyright © Chittaranjan Dey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

''A flower breaks out afresh''

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.


 

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Tale of Sandy the Snail

This is the tale of Sandy the snail...
Who always wore her hair in a ponytail...
She was different from others and I’m sure you’ll agree...
As her colors were bright neon fluorescent green you see... 
She wasn’t content just moving slow...
She wanted to run like a Marathon Pro...
Up early each morning...
When the Sun arose...
She did pushups, pull ups and touched her toes...
Alas... it was then she realized this was futile...
As everyone knows...
If she had feet, she would be more mobile...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

AN EVENING OF BLING


Inscribe you silvered crescent moon,your downward flowing pall

On village, parkland, swamp or cove, does silence hear its fall.?

Across the bluff's in muted form, that undulate like frozen sea

Where whispering waves of sound; make play this night,

Before daylight; will by his presence drown.."




© joe maverick 2010

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2010

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.

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

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."

Copyright © Stan Bradford | Year Posted 2007

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…

Copyright © Jenny Rollan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Die Ferne ist zerbrechlich / The distance is fragile

Die Ferne ist zerbrechlich
wie ein verlassener Stern
in einem Universum ohne Seele.
Ich bin ruhig im Schnee,
in der Höhe der steilen Berge
aus Eisen und Kristall,
und mit einem offenen Herzen.
Das Geräusch der fallenden Tränen im Schnee
verliert sich in der Ferne.
Ein kräftiger und lauter Wind
geleitet meine Sehnsüchte.
Herzen aus Staub und Eis
malen ein blassen Bild
mit verlaufenden Farben.
Manchmal ist es die Erinnerung,
die uns Ruhe und unsere Wünsche bringt.



The distance is fragile
like an abandoned star
in an soulless universe. 
I am calm in the snow,
in the heights of steep mountains
of iron and crystal,
and with an open heart.
The whisper of falling tears on snow
is lost in the distance.
A forceful and noisy wind
is leading my day-dreams.
Hearts of dust and ice
are painting a pale picture
in dispersed colours.
Sometimes it is only our memory,
bringing us peace and desire.

Copyright © Gert W. Knop | Year Posted 2009

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.

Copyright © Stan Bradford | Year Posted 2007

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.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nature In Our Garden

                        

Today opening my door to descent the steps to visit my garden
makes my dreams come true, my green garden enlightens 
my heart most of the time i spend it there, whispering with 
my roses, watching the very old green trees, watering the 
green grass, i love it. 

Suddenly my heart starts beating just found an envelope with 
white roses sleeping at my doorsteps, anxious to discover the 
sender, with a huge smile my surprise, it was from my darling, 
he wrote:

You are the woman of my dreams, I am taking the liberty to 
announce, you are my reason to live, if you are not in my life 
I will not tolerate my existence one moment longer, I need to 
become stronger to carry you towards our love nest share our 
hot body, love the love that will slowly put off that burning fire 
between us under our green trees very soon.
                                 
Lay your roses down, free your hand to hold mine, together, 
we will walk towards our green garden and dream of that day 
when our eyes will meet to become bride and bridegroom 
surrounded by the green trees everywhere, friends clapping 
so hard for us to engage with that beautiful touch of our lips, 
a sign you belong to me forever. 

Will you marry me my woman with green eyes? Oh! yes yes 
I screamed not realizing he is not here but a letter in my 
hand, the invitation for my own wedding, how blessed we are.
                               
The weather was happy the full moon lighted up the outside 
view to watch my roses blossom and maybe tomorrow we will 
walk together not only to get married we will upgrade our 
thoughts to the highest peak,we will reach our goals by living 
as one, we will enjoy whenever we can and endure when we must, 
we will not anticipate trouble or unhappiness about what may 
or may not happen, but we will walk towards our green garden, 
soon as husband and wife. 

We will not allow any obstacle stop us from becoming what 
needed to be successful, in love always, my heart was 
instantly beating towards positive thoughts a husband to love 
to sleep with, to cook, to wash, to wake up in the morning have 
our cup of coffee in the fresh air, i will stand by my man, 
no matter what.
                                   
A beautiful marriage in my green garden, all surrounded by huge 
green trees ancient as this house belonged to my grandfather
and I inherited it.
I felt like getting married with all those greeneries surrounding 
our guests i will place 100 white chairs on each side on the green
grass, and the aisle in the middle with green ribbons on the chairs,
at the end will be the priest standing behind a white table on it 
a beautiful green table cloth the chalice and cross next to the bible  
between white roses and greeneries. 

I need to sleep to wake up early run to my garden and prepare
the roses to share and whisper to me how beautiful they will 
become on that unforgettable day, the green grass will emerge 
to beautify their existence for our guests, the huge green trees 
will wave endlessly with the wind, a flow of some breeze.

We will be married as soon as he walks through my door,maybe today, tomorrow or after tomorrow.
Now we became a family with my green garden it will live to shine and
share the amazing wedding of two lovers married at last with the green 
beauty of our garden.

At that moment my thoughts tried to trick me in a discrete 
conversation saying, how do you know you will be happy? 
can you guarantee that happiness will exist? those were my 
repulsive thoughts, disregarding them, i shook my head
with sophistication a vigorous reply we will become
Thee couple in love forever. 

Our unique marriage in our Green Garden Of Eden was televised that day
a huge surprise to us and our guests by a close friend as a wedding gift. 



Therese Bacha                                                                 
 20/5/2013
              Contest for PD. Nature.. Win N0. 8

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If our Price is Right

"At the beginning of the twenty-first century,
for the luckiest
[high-risk and opportunity for eco-consciousness]
people who have ever been born,
it seems that our passionate pursuit of individuation
has reached its [EgoLeft dominant] apex."

"We have discovered that we are [also] part of a vast,
complex,
multidimensional
[polynomial, polycultural, polypathic, polymorphic, polysymbiotic]
fourteen-billion-year process
that is evolving right now, 
as ourselves
[AND Other AND Earth
as WinWinWin eco-cooperative poli-economic
love-therapeutic systemic resolution]."

"And our ability to recognize this vast [healthy/pathological] trajectory
that lies behind us
and that still lives within us
allows us to appreciate
the tremendous significance of the [great transitional] moment
we are [evolving] in."

The awakening of this evolutionary
[ecoconscious bilateral-dipolar systemic comprehension]
shatters the postmodern predicament.
And it is up to those of us who recognize this liberating context--
the luckiest [bicameral balancing] people in the world--
to make ourselves available
to the [coarising] energy and [co]intelligence that has,
over tens of thousands of years,
patiently cultivated our human capacity
for higher [and deeper] consciousness
and [self/other interdependent Left/Right eco-dominant] cognition,
so that it [regenerative healthy love]
can take the next step,
through us and as us."

Andrew Cohen, "Evolutionary Enlightenment, pp. 83-84, 2011, SelectBooks

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Are You

In the Work That Reconnects,
we have a dialogue exercise
in which Person A asks Person B
"Who are you?"
several times over a few minutes,
as it feels right to reprime this exploratory pump;
then person B does the same for person A.

The person hosting, facilitating, enabling
this reiterative question's redundant possibilities
is merely an echo-present listener,
noticing diversity within these multiple evolving responses,
without judging good, bad, ugly, or even indifferent,
quietly hearing rhythms of longing for love
between the crippling cracks of anger and fear,
compelling and compiling self with other hatred,
pathology.

The question,
Do all these diverse self-descriptions truly fit
this same love v. anger-fear polyculturing-multisystemic elephant?
does not usually arise.
Rather,
we accept all these scrabbling voices
and hats
and feelings
and ideas
and beliefs
co-occurring within one bilateral
positive-health v. negative-pathology mindbody ecosystem,
seeking diastatic fullness
richness,
poly-empathic
polymorphic communication,
design, development, co-empathic investment,
and cooperative-integrative implementation outcomes,
at the end of this elephant's rhetorical day,
if not sooner.

Why is this not always the case
when we ask our friends and families,
our public sector leaders 
and financial sector investors,
"Who do you hope we are becoming?"

What loves are we preparing to invest in 
and which past angers and future fears to divest of?

What indicators can I give
that I already invest in cooperatively regenerate health
agendas,
platforms,
designs and intentions,
co-mentoring therapeutic diapraxis
of which I preach so positively to others?

I know you support restoring regenerative health to our soil
and preserving clean water,
as I do.
So does it bother you,
as it does me,
that we still contaminate our water with poo and pee
instead of investing in nutrition-starved soil,
where both could be positive resources 
countering past neglect and abuse,
rather than doubly-negative pathology?

We say we support cooperatively vibrant and healthy local economies
and empowering political vitality,
so does it bother you,
as it does me,
to so often hear "either-or" deductive reductivism
and wonder why not first cooperatively consider "both-and?"

I appreciate what you just said
and I wonder if adding X might make your idea
even better.
Do you agree,
or maybe you see concerns for yourself and others
new to me,
of which we might learn together?

Could a cooperative election or social change campaign
begin with compiling interdependent hopes and wishes
and loves of Who Are You?
thereby more smoothly avoiding stuckness-traps
of fear and anger and dissonant pathological constipative outcomes.

Could investing both-and cooperative communication norms
better lead toward co-investing in healthy wealth,
politically strong-embraced policies,
procedural and dialogical transparency,
polyculturally inclusive design and development and discernment
of poli-eco-logical therapy
v. multi-morphic pathology;
co-arise local through global health outcome networks,
diastatic eco-normativity,
embracing each and every sacred Person A and B response
to Who are we?

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Natural Processes

		
	
			
	
	
	Natural Processes
	
	
	That basket, the one that sets here, on this table, this table where he leans, leaning heavily upon his elbow, khaki left leg cocked-up. Where is it, his self-sought? In that rack of pipes from which he gestures, gesticulates with the stems, smoke, hot 	air? In that Bentley, in the basement carved out under the deck cantilevered over the brook that once powered a factory and made ribbons, is in pieces, in pieces in precise order? In that life lived under shadows, in the long partnership not waiting for answers not found in his corner, his pipes, his pronouncements? Is that the arrogance of the commonplace, refuge of the soon forgotten, those natural processes?
	
	I hesitate to carry on, carry on, fearing what I might find in that brook, that basement, under the shadows.
	
	
	
	
	
	

	
	
	
	
	
	

	
	
	
	
	

Copyright © Jack Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Nature And Me

I don't know why 
I am writing 
I don't know what 
will come out of it
 I don't know how 
this has happened
I feel like it's me
   my good luck

Mother nature begged
to dictate my now
during that long walk 
towards my new path
the sun burned 
my negativity 
asked me to start having 
    a healthy attitude 
towards life and death

Mother nature urged me
    to remember
life was good to you
you are not the owner here
you are just passing 
       through
  
She transmitted in her own way
telling me we all live with 
     uncertainties
    once in a while
there are reasons to life
just add a meaning to it
make it real enjoyable 
visible full of life
     and love

She projected her light under
 extraordinary circumstances
where are you when you're thinking
a lifetime has gone by in a glimpse
          remember
 a person can't live two lives 
tonight pick up an option
everything you will do has to be
       worth living for

It's your decision 
your responsibility
having faith without hope
    you will not live 
        in peace

This is real what's next in your life
    whatever it might be 
  you would always want 
      that next minute
 make it count don't see weakness 
           everywhere
             I will try
               Terry

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dripping Moon

The moon dripped like wax through 
the canopy of the pines, light and 
shadow were scattered across the
ground like playing cards.
The air was still, the scent of danger
there but difficult to locate, yet the 
nostrils still twitched in mistrust.
In knowing that this is their time, 
time to forage, snout and graze this 
fertile floor, it is also realized that 
this is the hour of the hunter, he 
who walks with feet shod in death.
In the absence of scent sound is the
ally the startled bird a friend and the
passing cloud a closet in which to
hide.
Cloven feet tread the fern, in this
tranquillity all is fostering, caring,
the procedure of life has no pace 
but always achieves its aim, natural
progression achieved by time and 
adaptation, little gained by the ever
presence of man, more so the rigid
adaptability to the elements given.
Yes I walk the forest at night, not
with rifle or bow, but with my dogs, 
dreams and respect.

Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Of Man and Nature, a Democratic Union

"I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out"
-Walt Whitman

I walk the land as I want,
the flutter of the dove shudders my 
eyelids, dodging my step.
My soul, linking all souls, passes through 
trees on my trail, bounding among planets 
glimpsed between the apex of pine. I have 
no fear of being beyond my body, nor 
does the seed that falls from spent flower, 
anguish beyond time. The unseen bloom, 
millenial light-years away, shares 
inherrent liberty. Many will gather these 
words and hold them to the highest light, 
that of our Creator, whose compassion 
trifles not with material gain, but with 
justice and liberty for all living things,
(equal with respect to all previous 
sufferings and triumphs centuries before) 
So it is with high diligence I value the true 
compass of man and woman, forever 
linked with our inalienable rights, as 
nature intends.



02/20/14
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

the Rain

  The Rain tried to find its way into the very depth of the souls, sneering at the gloomy faces of people who were walking through water. Unexpectedly a sudden clear laugh of a boy who jumped into a puddle mocked all His aspirations. 

  With an increased force the Rain turned into a wall of water pushing the pedestrians into the open doors of the shops, blocking the traffic and confusing the air controllers at an airport nearby. 

  Seizing for a moment almost absolute power over the world, the Rain suddenly felt bored and first burst out into numerous crossing lines, then calmed down and throwing the last blast of wind with water drops at the running boy, He sighed in despair and having banged few open windows He disappeared, staying for a moment in thick eye-lashes of a girl who was adjusting her make up.

Copyright © Serge Belinsky | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Thought And A Poem On Spring

While watching the expansions of cities I felt too sad one day. In order to create more roofs and houses,  Green fields were slaughtered to meet the passions of the builders and our politicians. 

The places where there used to swing in air,  the branches of dancing mustard and linseed flowers were weeping with tears in their eyes. I kept moving from one field to another and I found the same story everywhere. 

At another place a small water stream was in the process of elimination and concrete pipes were laid beneath the ground to make the entire place on a level. The builders were about to celebrate a party, as their building plans were in the final stage of taking a shape. New shining houses with lots of street lights will soon be there, where Nature was spreading its smiles in the form of flowers and buds, grains and harvests, brooks and streams, orchards of Mango and guava. The old trees and wild flowers with hanging creepers and their smiling little buds would be wiped out as the old order changes giving place to new.

I thought for a moment that perhaps our new generations would never know why the beauty and music, which lurks from the yellow Mustard and purple Linseed flowers, when their crops swings and dances in the months of Fagun* (Feb. and March) inspires us to write Poems and Songs. Perhaps the new generation would be too busy in exploring new stars and planets in search of some water and air. As by that time the Earth would be empty from such blessings of Nature.

THE  POEM ON  SPRING WILL  BE HERE VERY SOON


Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Woodland Of Togetherness

I love this woodland of togetherness, where the branches reach out, entwine 
pull and lull me in. Where the sunlight bisects the canopy, falling in shards of 
love, kissing each leaf in its effortless fall. The absorbent floor soaks of moss, 
lichen and fern in a peace far from the chainsaw of reality. Indications of life 
surround  in a cloak of serenity, the bark of deer, the scampering of 
cottontails, the gruff grunting of wild boar not always seen but their presence 
felt in eerie shadows. I walk the glitters and glistens of cobweb lace, take the 
quiet in eager gulps awash in the grace of growth. The watching eye of wise Owl 
looks as if to say you lucky bastard, blinks and could not give a hoot. I parade 
in happiness and content dismissal of the inane world outside natures blanket, 
for I have seen the effects of of the two legged beast with his devouring heart, 
full of greed and broken promises. No this is the pace I wish to bear, carry for 
the rest of my natural days, where the seeds are scattered idyllic by a soft and 
gentle hand. I will tread silently this woodland created by time and tranquillity 
and try to avoid the guilt of disturbance.

Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wrinkles

Wrinkle, wrinkle on my face…

Couldn't you have found some other place ?

What made you furrow between my eyes ?

And all those creams, they are nothing but lies….

When I look in the mirror, all I can see…

Is a silver haired person staring back at me….

Then there are the lines , which run down the sides of my nose…

Running in circles, round my lips, down my neck and into my clothes….

Speaking of clothes , isn’t that where the wrinkles should be ?

Is nature playing a trick on me ?

Or is this a sign “ old “ is sneaking up on me ?

It seems only yesterday I was a young girl .. and had my whole life ahead of me…

So simple..so free……

Which don’t take me wrong I have enjoyed my life’s ride…

And there isn’t much in my life, I haven’t tried….

But it should would be nice if I could just see…

Myself with one less wrinkle…when I looked back at me…..

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If Time is Money

Does your money derive from health-regenerative investments?

Well, what could that mean?

Do you make your money, honey, 
with both light and dark co-arising memory
of midway love and peace intent,
avoiding anger-fear monoculturally competitive
dominant-power relationships,
and struggles against others,
against Earth,
choosing to struggle with cognitive-affective
chronic neural-temporal dissonance,
indicators of imbalance issues,
and opportunities for more polyculturally nutritious
sensory-neural-nutritional
regeneratively-integrally-intended 
ecosystemic polyculturing health-trend outcomes?

Is that your elevator speech, or Pledge of Allegiance to ReGenerative Health?

I thought it was a question that assumed
you don't like elevator pitches 
for more money being removed from your pocket,
whether asking or being asked,
don't matter,
bad timing to invest in one elevator ride.

Try it again,
what is this regenerative health investment
you think we both have in mind and body?

Is your time and money invested
in this cooperative stream of Earth's regenerate evolution,
co-arising revolution of transition crisis times
as ecoconscious bilateral,
and, by the way, 
therefore evolving-emergent as bicameral-neural,
light of logos fractal-ecologic?

I most certainly hope not!!!
That sounds much too grand for EgoMe.

But, your most active stage of hope,
the one more important than all those that could possibly follow,
is now,
this moment,
is always the permaculturist's nutritional Zero-Centric Zone of Ego/Eco
regenerative development and focus.

Before you in each relationship and transaction,
political and economic,
two primal principles of cooperative economic investment,
possibly of interest to philanthropic,
and religious,
and large-scale public economic/political health-culture research investors,
but most certainly of interest to EgoYou.

Such a sweeping scale of regenerativity.
Are you sure you can deliver such rich fertility
with my money?
Where are your outcomes of such vast healthy wealth?

You need not search this mindbody proposal
to see if I am community invested,
if time and life are money-valued commodities,
my money and health and regenerative potential
for sale or rent,
in exchange for what quality of money,
what source of health investment
absorbing dualdark angry-past pathology?

This proposal comes to you
through deep-nested communities
of co-cultural time as light investment.

What are your layers of cooperative political
and economic investment,
where lie these mutually-subsidiary networks?

My communities are interdependent communicators,
co-empathic autonomic
rich paradigmatic intent and permacultural practice.

Are your health outcomes of potential interest
only to our human tribe,
or is there a cooperative DNA/RNA synergy 
demonstrated in your proposal design,
budget,
and/or installation-investment plan?

Which cooperative investment communities appear
as higher risk potential divestors
due to internal monoculturally-dominant
political and economic assumptions? 

How do you propose to avoid Business As Usual 
anthrocentric-normative trends?

Who do you propose will hope and plan to do business with you,
and how,
through mutual barter, and/or cooperation?
And who intends to continue doing business competitively,
without you? And why?

Who do you hope and plan to invest in
and not invest in,
to achieve healthy helpful outcomes,
and what and how,
whether barter, competition, or cooperative absorption
into our Help As Health Bank?

Your proposal outcomes,
for each moment and day and year,
like your own embryonic Ego life,
should demonstrate early investors,
how you will optimize  polyculturally inclusive outcomes
of equitable harmony,
especially if you are not beginning
with a clearly articulated 
and balanced 
health-regenerative theory
root-systemic base
to compost rich fertile health-enculturation.

I will consider your proposals
each and every moment of each day and night
of mutual ecoconsciousness,
asking where does this proposal fit best 
within our cooperative health-as-help portfolio
with other potential investments at this time,
and/or
to consider in light of prior 
and still ongoing 
cooperative-healthguild investments,
and their comparative health v. pathology outcomes
for future regeneration
of Earth's polyculturing Time.

Please be sure any investment opportunities
explicitly measure future polycultural sensory-health 
against current comparatively monocultural,
over-competitive economic and political status-quo risks,
not only within your Nature-Investment Program Outcomes
but also how nutritional results
will be winnowed and seed-selected,
decomposed to enrich
your own future regenerative Interior Landscape,
your health lives of love
with your original and ongoing cooperators,
yourselves in aligning/maligning relation with others.

Perfect, all here and accounted for.
So, how are you investing and divesting
as our
"Cooperative Help As Health Bank"
ecological economic and political health
permacultural proposal
within your own time as money investment portfolio?








Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunsets and Journeys

Poem about beautiful sunsets and the journey of life.

Spent all day walking on the beautiful powdery white beach. Picking
up oceans treasures, scallop shells calico in colors rich and diverse,
conch, coral, cockel, Sand dollar, sea biscuit, lightning welk, snell shells
of every kind. Ocean breakers emerald crashing and rumbling up onto
the porcelain beach. Wade out let it splash all over me so cooling and
refreshing along with ocean breeze. Splash on the face I lick it off,
exquisitely salty. sand Pipers skiddering along, Pelicans and sea gulls
in the indigo sky catching my eye. Such beautiful things my spirit uplifted.
Sun now kissing the ocean in an explosion of colors. I sit down
 to take it all in. Orange, scarlet, green, violet, purple, amber,
 gold, emerald, jasper, amathyst, amber, alibaster and every
 hue inbetween. A glorious feastfor the eye and mind
 to put at ease. Dark now as the golden moon
takes it's Majasties place. What a simply wonderful day.
Giving sigh it's over I could do this forever. Time to go back to my home
in Arkansas. We have beautiful sunsets there as well. Beautiful mountains,
streams, forests, springs, caves, clear lakes await for me to revisit.
The air is clean with a fragrant scent, purple, yellow, orange, lavender,
azure, indigo, cardinal, porcalin, pink and more colors than I can
describe wild flowers frow. Clear blue rivers rush with white roaring 
rapids to float, forests of emerald abundant to explore. Mountains 
treacherous to scale, Hot springs to sooth and heal both body and 
spirit. Diamonds to find, red, champagne, blue, sparkling enchanting 
exquisite. Crystals bound in the mines near the healing hot springs,
amythest, garnets, water crystals, rubies and jasper in georgeous
colors crafted into rings, bracelets, pendants, watch bands and so
many more elegant things. I may never get to return to the beloved 
beaches again in my life, but I still have all these wonderous things
in My Natural Arkansas. However if I am fortunate enough to return to 
the glorious oceans and beaches, I will once again enjoy the treasures,
pleasures, sunsets  to behold so bold and vibrant, more wonderful
memories if it comes to pass. one never knows for certain what lays
ahead down lifes path so onward we go and enjoy each blessing
that the Lord has prepared to us to see. Hopefully we will learn on
this journey to love, care for and share with each other.

Copyright © Jack Ross jr. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Beautiful Flower

If one could be a beautiful flower
How would they spend their day
Would they blossom in the adulation
That many others may send its way

Would its spirit nourish the hearts
Of those who are blessed to see
The color of its very lovely soul
And its wonderful endearing vibrancy

Or would it shun the light that comes
From the brilliance of a new Sun
Shying away from its special gift
To make a day better for someone

For though it may seem its true beauty
Quickly vanishes over a very short time
I find true value in its enchanting embrace
I'll forever admire in my heart and mind.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

REFRAINS OF WINTER SONATA


REFRAINS OF WINTER SONATA When fallen brown leaves brush a sepia picturesque and the bubbly breeze blows a heated winter sonata, the giant roses of clouds are teased, they shed icy petals tumbling, drifting like little ballerinas dropping to rest on branches of trees, grasses, houses and down to window ledges clustering in lily-white hues. Frosty mornings and nights lure the need for warmth from brewed coffee, a kiss or just a minute of touch... Absorbing the air, alone, I wander to the cover-walks, I see children tramping and playing on hills of frost, some couples carelessly sliding, they laugh out loud, yet afar, some robins, deer and beggars frown in despair as they are homeless. No fire nor a person to cuddle with. No adequate food to eat nor a flowing water to drink too... Cold. Wet. All white, frozen snow-tears are in their eyes and so I am one afternoon, a year and six months ago. The winter atmosphere can stir love passions within but how can it all be when the only woman, I love. I wanted to marry and ready to give my all: refused me? She, slowly walking away, leaving me crying-- a snow. ________________________________________________________ ~~SPONSOR: Broken Wings CONTEST: Write ME A Winter Poem~~ __Olive Eloisa Guillermo__ 8:16 pm, November 14, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet Spring

Days are lengthening with spring. Winter's thaw has awaken the earth. The rebirth cycle begins in my backyard. Bird feeders are full. Goldfinches adorned in their brighter yellow feathers of spring, happily feeding on seed. House wrens are making new nests and chirping their mating songs, creating a wonderful soundscape to my ears.

A gentle south breeze flows. With ice and snow melted, rivers flow. Transitioning winter to spring, and greening-up Mother's Earth. Buds are bursting forth on most of my trees with little green leaves. My purple crocus and blue hyacinth have started too bloom, much too early here in the north. What's in the air that makes me feel better? I like to think it's the sweet days of spring.

                                                    northern wind shivers
                                          wrapping warmth with woolen shawl
                                                    early spring sleeps lite
                                                 

A Haibun with a Haiku
For Debbie Guzzi's contest,"Spring Haibun"

Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013