Writing Nature Poems

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Details | Blitz |
 
the solitude the silence silence of a bee in the forest silence of the leaves leaves on majestic trees leaves my soul quivering quivering treasures quivering happiness and joy joy of freedom and journeying on joy in my soul beyond time time entangled in vines time to pause in the emerald emerald windswept meadows trembling emerald velvet foliage creeping creeping and creeping the embroidery of green creeping sunlight fills the shadows shadows are where the violets sleep shadows hide a hundred chirping wings wings of the poets dreamy muse wings of a little butterfly kissing the decay decay in the tangled branches decay beautiful and divine divine tufts of yellow divine bliss in silence silence in the garlands of green silence in hushed echoes echoes of unseen songsters echoes of wild streams bubbling and flowing flowing pen flowing words and verses verse amongst the scattered dandelions verses in the whispering calm calm the clusters of vines twining calm the bliss bliss in a deep canopy of towering giants bliss under an azure above above the cowslip and foxglove above blue birds fly fly downy wings fly with the sweet wind wind that whispers in my ears wind that lifts the tufts of pretty flowers flowers wilted and dying flowers with petals forlorn forlorn my poetic words forlorn and weeping weeping on tattered paper in solitude weeping poems and rhymes and verses created in the silence solitude . . . _______________________ May 23, 2015 Blitz Submitted to the contest, shhhhh , sponsor, Silent One 8th Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015




Details | Verse |
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM


Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
This world needs more hope
Mushrooms that fly 
And swings with no rope
Under bright stars and night sky

Mushrooms sprout in the black forest of lore
Under which live dancing elves 
Who give hope by the score
Magical is laughter that fills young hearts

Hope and mushrooms
Now that's what we need
Hope gives happiness
And mushrooms our dreams


Note:
Inspired by Seren Roberts and her tablet! :)

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018




Details | Haiku |
Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....

Copyright © EMMANUEL SAMSON | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |
Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.

Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
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 allotrope 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 prevalent 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

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rubaiyat |
For so long you’ve been hiding from me in seclusion Wise Muse, I must gasp as I make an intrusion I know your plan was to lead me to such splendor Now I inhale a spiritual transfusion While struggling in a world of carnal illusion I needed to accept grace for absolution Stone mountains, yellow flowers and a cool, clear lake Have led me to ponder thoughts of adoration There are times when the world’s harshness cuts like a knife We lose too many moments focusing on strife Above those azure skies, our Savior smiles down And leads us to an Eden of eternal life Inspiration now flows through my pen thanks to You In this serene outpost, my spirits will renew Natural beauty is one of Your greatest gifts The dawn of a blessed new age may now ensue
*Entry for John Freeman's "Rubaiyat Form" contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.

Copyright © Elizabeth Nathaniel | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
When the river runs dry


When the river runs dry, tears of sorrow fill this poets eyes
The words just won't flow, as the blank page clearly shows

All life dries up as ideas and thoughts they get torn in two
All around us can see it and sense it they feel the sorrow too

For what is life without freedom of thought and it's expression?
All poets like their words to be heard and read without exception

Our Maker well knows our needs, knows us better than ourselves
When the river runs dry, He gives us clean waters found in his well

When we go to him and drink deeply of his fresh waters of truth
Our soul and spirit are invigorated  renewed like the days of our youth

Our prayers are answered as copious tears shower down from on high
We drink it all in till we're dripping wet, that's when we understand why

When we rely on ourselves our own thinking from our imperfect minds 
That's when there's trouble, the page is blank and so the river runs dry.


John Derek Hamilton
April 17,2016





Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

           Understanding A
       Metaphysical Moment …
       … Nature’s Mysteries



                 This Haiku is for:
       The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))

                        MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Tetractys |



                                                              Sun
                                                           rays pour
                                                  through the branches,
                                                          I sit under
                                    trees and paint the horizon with my pen.

                               Strokes from my ink flow to each curve I write,
                                                     as drips from the
                                                           sun color
                                                              all I
                                                               see.

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
She remembers the shimmer
of one Sunday morning
until sun had grown dimmer
on the overcast seas
The color of yellow,
spread long amber fingers
while the sycamore trees 
cast their strange somber shadows.

There was threat in the sky
and the faint sound of thunder
then a flash in the hills, in the blink of an eye,
Clouds gathering quickly, on the hillside, nearby

They rudely unlatched all the floodgates within
When a minute had passed, the sun came again
And radiant gold spread it's hold end to end

At the old oak table, as she sat in the kitchen
staring at paper, with a pen in her hand
searching for muse and the words for a poem,
she looked for the magic, to paint with a pen
Seeking for gold in the late summer's bend 

While hearing the tapping of rain and the plunder
And as quickly as storms, come out of nowhere,
a floodgate of verses resounded  like the thunder 
and flashes of lightning struck lines here and there.

Pouring on paper, like rivulets on windows
a floodgate unleashed, were the words in a row
Painting a river, a poem she could own
and words that would capture the late summer storm

___________________________________________________________
Contest: "Titles"  Sponsored by Pendleton Arkwright
9/17/15

(Titles of my first five poems:)
The Old Oak Table 
Dimmer
Yellow 
Sunday Morning 
Unlatched 
				

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sijo |
sijo

Ideas spin round like maple seeds seeking a spot to sprout.
Our minds are the pond where these tadpoles of thought mature over time.
Polliwogs become frogs; ideas turn into poems.

written 8 May 2016

Have you ever noticed the physical similarity between a maple seed and a tadpole?

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Tanka |
Frost and moonlight mimic my unwritten page but barren trees have printed inky shadows across the brittle earth
__________________________ 11//8/13 For Francine's Contest: Fall or Winter Tanka

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2011

Details | Imagism |
she disturbs meaning
in rhythmic pulsation
exciting to fluorescence a deeply subtext'd verse;
'but don't mistake a stinging strophe for arrogance.'

'that's just fierce presence,'
moved by waves of astonishment 
cascading through a nervous and vascular system
spontaneously overflowed  

                                          sea through


with a reaching iridescent tentacle
she simply, elegantly, fluoresces a gleam in your eyes

Copyright © Jerry Whalley | Year Posted 2009

Details | Verse |
Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart

Copyright © Katrina Salem | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
She, Of The Cosmic Essence
Aware Of A Power
Aware Of A Presence
And Aware Of The Need For Our
Desire To Rise Higher
… and Higher
To Our Optimum Height
Patricia … You Are Like The Alaskan Lights
Those Northern Flares and Colors In Cold Night 
Floating Dreams, So Mesmerizing
Patricia, Brings It To Her Poetic Themes
Such Are The Verses She Shares To View
And Reading Them, She's Showing You
Her Cosmic Essence Insight
Oh Patricia, You’re An Alaskan Light …
So, Keep Reaching, Keep Speaking … and Write !


For The Girl, Who Shared A Comfy, Snug Book Read
On One Of Her Snowy Days … (Via Her Poem- ‘Autumn’s Passing’ 
Also - Your Poem ‘Journey’ is One)
See … It Brought Back Some Wonderful Memories To Me …

                   Your Poet-Friend,
         
                           The  MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative |
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

O impetuous Muse surround me
with ashes of moody youth
Recall silken moments,
 uncertain, where 
marbled words wrote
an elaborate history.

Nectar thoughts,
 not moments, dappled drab
where ruined feathers in darkness dwelt.
Ornate  years of passion, spilling fire
allusive to all consuming ire.
	
When summer spoke,
when spring day-dreamed
and Autumn kissed me with
gaudy leaves.

Swift and sweet, how memories rise
diamond- strung in a room of silver
Slick and sleek from a stormy world,
 solid tree trunks on a bell- clear morning.
 
Blithe, dramatic, reckless dreams
 flowing with precocious,
 peculiar streams
 Luxurious with sadness,
 time’s cruel wheel
  rolls vast recollections 
 that slowly  yield
 cold, closed canyons of
endless  truths,
touched with the starry
  kiss of  youth.

Suzanne Delaney


for Harry














Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
quarter moon in sight,
partially hidden by clouds.
just like my verses.

Copyright © dennis lee | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
Thank goodness for a sun,
the rays that cross the plane!
My office remains melancholy,
a dimness I defend.

Daily I defend this muted light,
thinking it "muse", drinking it blind.

On overcast days, I get away with it;
be it blinds pulled, or curtain down
(rarely both: I'm not an ANIMAL!),
a ray or two may lift the room,
cause a breath, pull me out.

In day, the birds do not distract so.
Outdoor noises are immaterial.
Night of course, is a cause in itself.
At these times, sleep is a mistress
I dare not court, nor think about.
Night draws and draws, she never gives back.

Thank goodness for sun, and a nap on the day.
Earth's elegant axis, Sun's elegant ray.

~TH~    http://wrongwaywriteway.com

Copyright © Tom Hitt | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |
 

Apples.. beetles.. caterpillars..
daisies everywhere.. 
fertile ground.. hollyhocks.. 
Ivy jumbled kegs..
leafy mint.. nematodes..
oregano..peas.. 
quiet rest sunsets.. tomatoes under vines.. 
wheelbarrows.. xanadu yearning zeal!

Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Senryu |
‘ Raul Moreno, Poet- Sen•sei … ’   56th  Senryu


   Like Marco Polo
Haiku Master, Moreno
Explores Nature’s Show


From Magnanimous Me (he! he!)  (LOL)
             Love Your Poetry, 
        Your Poet-Pal, MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Haiku |
Crab on a mission
So much inside that shell; leaves
writing in the sand

Copyright © Nigel Fawcett | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric |
It's here now under a converted sky
Where daylight has loss it’s might
Hours before the green hills had sight, with 
splattered  hints of yellow wild flowers so bright
Now time has casts a different light
  
It here now where the heavens sings an evening song 
With twinkled lights on a moon lit prong
Dancing stars and dreaming of mars 
Its here on this transformed spot 
I will sit and jot

It is here now as I lay back on this cool grass, and write a story 
with the heavens the color of quarry
Of jeweled eyes in the skies 
that connected to stories, some disguised 
With silver spoons and astrological loons
 
On dream away, dream on by
to the earths motions and lullabies
It is here now time to take a brake
from life’s work ,and worries and heart ache 
Try it yourself remember when, you were a child
when you looked up the night and smiled amen
   

 
 
                                       

Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2008

Details | Narrative |
The inspiration becomes a song 
depending on an oceans verse 
a seagull's cry calls upon the ancient mariner 

Enchanting riches turns to dust moulded
 
Singing sunrise over horizon's mist 
on the dark side of a moonbeam lost
Howling into an empty void 
blood drips upon material planted 
rays of light paints with hope dwells peace

From it's seed grows the apple bitten 
once sewn deeply shades the blossoms pink 
flowing rivers turning tides over 

The seas part with death tolling time's reflection 
watered by dewdrops sparkling green pastures growing 
stronger for living pierced within daggers hurled by hate

Salted the remains of injured spiced injustices bring 
perfumed inside regrets a living truth expelled nightmares
we all become haunted by ghosts of a past life 
hunted by the wolves whom pack abuse unrelenting

We become the sheep 
through eyes of forgiveness 
held forever fragile within cotton wool 
dancing away with the clouds 
makes way for the sky to open your eyes 
to colour through our optic nerves 
one vision in words to complete

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
protecting.
 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 
race. 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 
face. 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |
It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -
Arisen

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.


So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem

Copyright © Camille Casserly | Year Posted 2012