Nature Beautiful Poems | Examples
These Nature Beautiful poems are examples of Beautiful poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Beautiful Nature poems written by international poets.
Springing here,
Blooms dance, sunshine wafts,
Feel our smiles.
A force of nature, with a heart so grand,
She walked this earth, a light in the land.
Our Auntie Dana, fierce and free,
Like the hammerhead shark she loved to see.
She navigated life's deepest, darkest seas,
Finding solace and strength on her bended knees.
In the Bible, her compass, she found her way,
Guiding her through each and everyday.
For her three boys, her love knew no bound,
In their triumphs, her greatest joy was found.
Then came the grandkids, a new chapter to start,
Each one a treasure held close to her heart.
Aunt to so many and mother to all,
With laughter and cheer,
she banished our sorrows, our every fear.
Her witty humor, her infectious grin,
A beacon of warmth, from deep within.
Though she faced tempests and trials unkind.
A beautiful spirit, she left behind.
So let her memory live, a whisper on the breeze,
Among the vibrant, sunlit, whispering trees.
A testament to a beautiful, brave, and loving heart,
From which we never, ever, have to part.
Love you Aunt Dana, We will miss you!
against the cold backdrop of a monochrome sky
resplendent music permeate from a blackbird's sigh
When my eyes close for my final sleep
Don't dig a hole to burie me deep
Release my soul into a westerly breeze
Close to nature flowers and trees
Make it at sunrise at the first light of day
For The rays of the sun to show me the way
With the mist rolling in and the fresh morning dew
This is my last request that I hope you will do
So When I close my eyes and I will no longer be
Please do what I ask and set my soul free
Yawning sun, waves the chaos for peace,
For a while, sorrow sleeps and curses cease.
Drowning sky guides the birds ,way for home,
Blushing clouds build the delusional dome.
traffic rests for breath,
A moment for us ,no fear and death.
Echoes of silence in air speak,
All tiny souls roam and peek.
Nature admires their work and sings,
A song of love and wisdom swings.
The evening wind cools the desert fire,
All feel grateful – in spite of their desire.
Burden and scars sleep beneath the evening breeze,
All hearts find comfort, all minds feel ease.
Tonight Chumki drifts to a gentle sleep,
And with her the poems their silence keep.
No murmur of verses, no whisper of rhyme,
The hours move slowly, unmeasured by time.
The stars look down with a softened gaze,
Darkness enfolds in its velvet haze.
No chatter of stanzas, no lyrical sound,
Only the hush of the night all around.
Dreams weave quietly in silver streams,
Guarding the doorway to tender dreams.
The restless lines lie still and deep,
For even the muses have gone to sleep.
Yet in the silence, a promise lies near,
That dawn will awaken the songs we revere.
When Chumki wakes, her smile will rise,
And poems will flutter once more to the skies.
The beach climbs are harder
the rocks turn my feet
and I find myself walking on my ankles
wading through sand
But the photos at sunset
or as the moon rise
are such a surprise
Like paintings
like fine art
witnessing the beauty of nature
as it shows us all of the basis for inspiration
everywhere
The sea air is so refreshing
the tang of salt
its cool crisp feel
as it laps past me
and blows my hair
The sheen of the sun and the moon
off the water
and it undulates and ripples
It's mesmerizing and beautiful
I seek out the lighthouse
to capture its beauty on the horizon
Its glow too settles on the ocean
and lights the scene in a way
that makes it seem like a painting
A huge downed redwood tree on the beach
a sculpture in driftwood now
but so big as to be a playground
The natural wonders of this place continue to provoke me
and keep me wanting more
from the tiny bits of rock on the ground
to the magnificent scenes in the sky
my senses are always tuned in
And here I share them with you....
Artimus 9/1/2025
The frost has melted, the world is hushed still,
In the soft, wet earth, a promise to fulfill.
A golden trumpet, from a winter's dream,
The daffodil awakes by a silver stream.
It shivers once, a breath of nascent light,
And opens wide to drink the morning bright.
A simple dance, a sunbeam on the ground.
Where silence breaks with a glorious, joyful sound.
Its gentle wisdom, an ancient, hopeful plea,
To mend the heart and let the spirit be.
And as the day descends in quiet grace,
The orchid waits in a hidden place.
A velvet whisper, a painted, folded fan,
A mystic symbol, beyond the mortal plan.
It clings to shadow, a ghost of moonlit air,
with roots that drift upon a silent prayer.
Each patterned petal, a spell from ages old,
A story whispered, a secret yet untold.
The orchid dreams in realms of softest thought,
A perfect beauty, by patient starlight wrought.
So let them rise, the daffodil and orchid,
From separate worlds, by separate purpose guarded.
The sun-kissed singer and moon-drawn sigh,
One to proclaim, one to mystify.
For in their blooming, the world is whole and new,
And ancient magic can once again break through.
When images of distant hills
turn more solemn, still and strange,
and all nature seems prognostic
of some dark and more deadly change.
In a star-filled midnight Heaven,
brooding and full of new-born thought
the patient poet stands watching
by whom liberation is brought.
Under trees all clothed in silver,
near the houses touched with white,
as chilly Winter kisses Earth
beneath the canopy of night –
He must bow in silent homage
to the pallid and pensive train
of stars that shine down such glory
on this wintery spirit’s reign.
In the middle of the scorching hot sun
I met a breeze.
It was fair,
tall, and calm.
The breeze smiled,
I don't know for who,
maybe for me,
maybe for the universe.
His frame was cold,
yet for some reason,
he was warm.
His smile was the most endearing thing that had ever existed.
he looked so beautiful, like a pure white cloak, dancing along with the wind.
He left a very strong impression,
He looked like a stoic person.
But the more I see of him,
the more he seemed to be a genuine person.
Dark tiny dots,
I guess the word "beauty mark"
really wasn't just a mark people use to differentiate a person,
but a sign that a person is truly loved,
it's a perfection, a confession,
a mark of eternal love.
Dusting the floor,
my broom wrestles
with the cobwebs lingering
from yesterday's sales,
all around the ceramics
the threads poke
in all directions,
I kick the dustpan
and the dirt crystalizes
in midair,
for a moment, it was beautiful.
Sirius, bright as always but
Canopus, closely behind.
The vacant moment
stabilizes,
attuning gravity
for the slightest
second.
The image painted its portrait
onto the walls just as
Starry Night captured Van Gogh.
Unlike brilliant masterminds,
the stars fall as gravity remembers
its role.
The glittering dots flake
over my feet blending
back into the ground,
the straws weak grip lifts
the dirt kicking it back
outside, yet again it forms
high up in the skies blending
with nature as it hides,
slowly it vanishes
as its memory remains
within the dirt, stars form.
Looking out of my window, what do I see?
A picture that’s painted exclusively for me
Endless blue skies, not a cloud to be seen
Wide open fields in every shade of green.
Graceful white butterflies dancing in sync
A medley of flowers in vibrant hues of pink
The sky is full of birds, big and small.
The trees look majestic as they stand tall.
Animals grazing on the lush green grass
An amazing scene behind a pane of glass.
photons of fuchsia
shimmer on rippling waters ~
sunset brushed vistas
mother of pearl clouds
the twilight sky turned purple -
art inspiration
magenta sunrise
paints the sky a fiery blaze ~
celestial design