These Nature Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Nature Quatrain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.
Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.
This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.
The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.
A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.
Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.
The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.
At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.
I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.
The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.
Emerald etchings are given birth
to bask their lives in summer's sun,
until brushing brutal winters cheek,
They cower yellow; brown undone.
Swirling down onto concrete pyres,
They somersault to a random grave.
The earth lays claim to copper corpses
But the winter wind is a cunning knave.
It finds and flips the fallen fibers,
then flings them crisply to the street.
The failing sheaves of burnt magenta,
tossed like chaff from harvest wheat.
Now strewn about with playful malice,
and denied the resting place they crave,
for the golden sun is a glint of amber,
but the winter wind is a chilling knave.
Splendor of Autumn in its glorious bloom
Bestowing us with nature's gifts precious
Fragrant orchards with their ripened looms
Tempting aroma of the fruits luscious.
To the Autumn born, the season appeals
As I inhale lungfuls of the festive air
Drum beats reverberate, child's gleeful squeals
We celebrate Autumn with unique flair!
Auburn hues of the flora flourishing
Trekking dry hilly trails with impish pride
Vibrant beauty of fauna simply ravishing
Toddler enjoying his piggy back ride!
Armed with dry sticks tiny hands fiddle
To catch the colorful flipping butterflies
Beneath pattering feet crispy leaves crinkle
The sail-boat clouds drifting through blue-glass skies.
On a pond blossoming with lilies and lotuses
They empty their left-over dewy wet delights
Nature basks in sunlight's golden caresses
The whole cosmos soaks in wonderful sounds and sights!
No ripple of breeze could be half as gentle
than those tiny feet, as they lightly tread
through the open meadow of poppies blooming
while morning sunlight lay gold on her head
The smell of the summer night air
Takes me back to times we shared
You and I dancing beneath the moon
Crickets playing a lovers tune
Trees full with lush green leaves
Whispering poetry to you and me
A view from beneath a Missouri bluff
Talking of passion, love, and lust
Your hand in mine strolling the path
Sitting on the deck and looking back
Picnic tables and barbecue grills
Driving and parking, is this for real?
My memory’s filled with your sweet love
Do you remember that snow white dove?
A kiss goodnight under a star filled sky
Best friends forever, a promise, no lie
It excites me to think that every year
Whether life or memory I return here
We will create magic again I know
On a summer night in the moon’s soft glow
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
*inspired by John Heck’s “Summer Celebration” contest
Oh giver of life, you glorious Sun,
You instinctively know what must be done.
I bask in your warmth to gain energy;
Marvel how you raise up each plant and tree.
You, gracious Moon ever watchful at night
Even aware when your eye is closed tight.
You sway our emotions, also the sea;
Cause turmoil at times or tranquility.
I love you Earth and all of your creatures.
There's joy in knowing you are our teachers.
I will, to treat you with respect and care
And pray that the world will become aware
When we poison you, we poison us too.
Keeping you balanced will grow life anew.
We are blessed with Earth, sea, wind and fire;
Ether, divine, our longing desire
Helps us to treasure our blessings on Earth
And love that's bestowed when given our birth.
So embrace loyal Sun and moody Moon
As sweet Nature sings her loveliest tune.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Petals in the wind I saw
with my girl one day.
On some boughs of trees they stirred
with a gentle sway.
As they moved, the wind picked up
till that mighty breeze
blew the petals all at once
off the pretty trees.
Then the petals danced around
swirling to the ground
like small ballerinas whose
slippers make no sound.
Crimson, pink and purple, they -
like bright butterflies -
fluttered and sashayed before
our enchanted eyes.
Suddenly the air went still.
fell to ground while some adorned
my sweet daughter’s hair.
Happily she shook them out,
turned to me and grinned.
No more would we see that day
petals in the wind.
WRitten 1/20/13 by Andrea Dietrich
For the Petals in the Wind poetry contest
of Gail Angel Doyle
The very first week of every October
Bright yellow, orange, amber, purple and red
Splash artistry on New Hampshire’s White Mountains
As the tourism season comes to a head
North Conway’s old railroad station is abuzz
Men in traditional conductor attire
Escort sightseers to seats with pane-free windows
To peer out at landscapes in colors of fire
The spectrum on dappled mountains evokes awe
Caught by camera lenses as cool winds blow
Offering a chilly reminder to all
That these peaks will soon be blanketed by snow
Clickety-clack, the train hugs its aged track
Freeze-frame photograph images will remain
Recalling the splendor of fall’s peak foliage
Until spring breathes life to the mountains again
* Rides on the North Conway train are only offered
in autumn. Written for the "Fall" contest.
Magical crescent moon
Shining on the path below
Lighting the way for lovers
Together as they stroll
Exploring the enchantment
Of the animals and the trees
Finding their own Utopia
Beneath natures canopy
Together they may hear
A love birds sweet melody
As the crickets and a bullfrog
Seem to join in harmony
Sparkling stars and dewdrops
Fireflies dance about merrily
As winds song within the leaves
Plays a lovers symphony
The smell of jasmine in the air
Rose and chamomile so sweet
With just a soft hint of patchouli
A lovers perfume as they meet
The mystery and excitement
Passionate kisses, perfect date
These two lovers souls connect
In this mesmerizing place
Elegant Goldie and handsome Leaf Red
Brushed one another, thus happened to meet
mid-air, where Goldie by Red then was led
In one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three beat.
Gliding and twirling, they waltzed all around,
Up the hill, down the hill, over a stream.
Sliding but never quite touching the ground,
Like Fred with his Ginger, they danced like a dream.
Goldie was glowing with sun’s going down.
Red seemed like crimson against twilight sky.
Rustling his suit while she whirled in her gown,
They glittered while wafting first low and then high.
Nature was humming the Falling Leaves song;
Chill autumn breezes kept urging them on.
Fluttering fluttering all the night long,
With hoot owls hoo-hooing, they danced until dawn.
Suddenly, all became still in day’s light.
The couple was parted, for wind ceased to blow.
There came drifting down something moist and white.
Farewell, pretty leaves. Now is Dance of the Snow.
For Francine Roberts' Nature Story Contest