Best Life Nature Poems
Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.
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Contest: Crystalline
Sponsor: Rick Parise
11.22.14
Undulate on burbling rivers rushing to meet sea,
Buoying spring’s hilarity, ceding to summer’s plea;
Marvel on wings of autumn as falling colors spree,
Rejoice pristine snowflakes adulating winter’s glee;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Sail on crest of tides where summer ebbs and flows,
Guide autumn’s journey thrilling season of snows,
Whether lauding sunshine or twilight in shadows,
Whether in blazing colors or woes of wintry throes;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Despair not in shudder of shivering naked trees,
For autumn decaying in clasp of wintry freeze,
Sows the seeds sprouting exuberance of spring,
Where, serenading renewal, doting robins sing;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Alas! soon blossoms wilt, autumn’s revelry ends,
And unseen remains future where tomorrow bends,
So, grab your today and let its winter day-dream
In the seasons of youth, fond memories redeem.
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
July 13, 2022
The Time Between the Seasons Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
A coloratura rises
from the suede-edged shape
as the gnarled grande dame
comes to light.. a vision
draped in sweeping evergreen
and a pale cape of kidskin haze -
a beguiling soprano in soft-
focus fools the guileless sunrise
with a diva’s deception --
for in the vaporous golden hour
she can still be breathtaking
the age of change
is beclouded - softened
in gray’s cashmere atmosphere
where blending and bending of
over-ripened perceptions
are smoothed with a dewy smudge..
roughened boughs
and litter-fall is obscured --
unless, you get up close
harsh lines become artfully coy
in the bosom of the pearl mist;
a bedimmed dreamy blur of
Impressionism masks her reality
with the sleight of hand and a mockingbird’s aria
Susan Ashley
March 8, 2020
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Contest No 1183
Sponsor: Brian Strand
N/A
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
*coloratura: runs, trills, and other florid decorations in vocal music.
A lyric soprano of high range who specializes in such music*
*aria: an elaborate melody sung solo*
Dearest young leaf,
Why so melancholy?
Thy emerald sheath has not borne Time's folly.
Think not of Autumn's deathly brilliance,
Of colors rich and flaky grounds,
For Thou wilt weep every moment hence,
While Springtime's youth still bounds.
Greet Thy greenness with glee,
For thy root to the Oak remains strong,
Aeolus' fury on Thee has no effect till Summertime gone.
So worry not of what is to come,
Enjoy Thy existence, little one.
Pushed there for a thousand years
and will be for a thousand more,
pushed there by the gentle winds
the silver waves upon the shore.
Ancient trees who watched here daily
are now dark silhouettes 'round the rim,
as dusk settles in over the still lake
and a dragonfly takes a final skim.
As the sun dips below the surface
silver waters gain a hint of gold,
their riches flow around my feet
giving me memories to be told.
The sands of time sift down below
where life goes drifting by,
and laid there for a thousand years
and beneath them, so shall I.
And become like a silhouette
to watch all life drift by,
and reliving in every moment
never stopping to ask why.
Pushed there by flowing currents
and the wind's most gentle roar,
I fade away like the golden sun
glint silver waves upon the shore.
Beyond the hills of Auburn
Past the river, through the trees
I found a secret garden
Pretty as you please
A field of red corn poppies
Cosmos and blue bell
Candytuft and blazing star
Bedecked a wishing well
Scarlet sage and tidy tips
Covered a distant knoll
A quiet little gopher
Lies sleeping in his hole
Resting beside a trickling brook
Beneath the weeping willow
I have a bed of scarlet flax
With yarrow for a pillow
Today, I was truly blessed
When a robin dropped me here
You see in any other place
A gardener I would fear
For I am but a lowly weed
That most would only shun
But in this secret garden
I am loved by everyone
spilling mother’s milk
Nature’s bounty feeds her child -
river’s youth fades fast
Susan Ashley
April 29, 2020
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Hi-Ku (5)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun
a “trophy-bagger” in its rack,
a loud-mouth predator at rest,
this motherless, brother-less thug
perceives no pity-pangs... the gun
now quiet, buckshot empty, cold.
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.
A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize.
Indeed, like litterfall they fell,
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun
a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!
that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!
Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun
felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.
as the heavens cry
tears slip between each petal
the earth breathes new life
03/05/2018
I wonder,
If ever the fruit thanks the tree
For helping it grow and becoming
ripe.
I wonder.
If the tree ever thanks its roots
For keeping it standing and for the nourishment
They provide.
I wonder,
If ever the roots thank the ground
For supplying a firm base to plant themselves
In search of food.
I wonder,
If ever the ground thanks the microorganisms and minerals,
For enriching its soil to become
Alive.
If no-one
Never express gratitude to each other
Then
A great injustice is committed,
UNLESS...
All of the above is one,
And as such, all work in unison for a single purpose:
To serve the divine will maintain life!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 September 2018
Trust in your fear
As it speaks with a voice
Or you'll be left in pieces
With no longer a choice
For your fear will take over
In vociferous chant
To pieces you will collapse
In meandering rant
So when ever this word
Called fear appears
Don't fall to pieces
Or your soul disappears
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-3.php
Lessons of Autumn
Summaries of schooling
— lessons upon lessons guiding
Thoughts in class after class…as bells ring…
Volumes to consider about ways of interpreting…
As the world takes Life on a continuous spin
— round and around — outside and within —
Orbits, tides, seasons, moods, visions…
Lessons taught that Winter is The Dead or Hibernating;
Spring is Re-birth; Summer is The Growing;
And Autumn? Well, students were asked to see
— symbollically, spiritually, scientifically —
That Autumn is the season of Dying, of Leaving.
Autumn, the antithesis of Spring;
Autumn, the harvesting, the taking away
from the earth Spring’s born and
Summer’s grown.
Autumn is the drying, wilting, wrinkling;
The changing from acting to waiting…
And ending.
But, in Autumn, Mother Nature displays
Some greater lessons using God’s deeper palette:
To layer by layer paint, and year by year present
How Autumn’s weeks pass on
Gifting the hemispheres with her splendors
In a glorious prelude to turning with life,
Tier upon tier, into a new year.
All around, Autumn transforms the landscape
From too monochrome into blended tones
Of copper…and red…and yellow aside goldened greens
That shiver before the backing blankets
of violet horizons;
And often the trees for awhile, may even
lean in together to endure
The colder winds and rains pattering.
~ When sweeping Autumn begins,
Leaf by leaf breaks off from branches and twigs…
And, by design created, floats down,
Each laying on a palm of air, to soften
The fall ~
The living in nature all have their seasons…As we
Too, grow on the many branching pathways of our own,
Hopefully learning the value and beauty
In the circling of all time’s teaching seasons…
As each and every leaf sways, wafts, flutters, twirls,
Slowly waltzing down to the waiting earth,
To lay there, with such vibrant color,
Over the dust that made us.
Autumn always,
is time’s heavy curtain,
Taking its cue to fall…
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(c) sally young eslinger 10/2023
Abandon Dead Trails And Thy Sybarite Lust
If Nature's earthen-fires thy bosom holds
and thy heart's countenance mind's eye thus sees;
life serves best those adventurously bold,
walking worn paths, resting under its trees.
Seek in truth the great beauty God has made
the opulence of colors in blue skies;
let not dark, thy human empathy degrade
to sorrows that in turn, love's joys deny.
Instead, denude kings of their purple cloaks
and the golden castles they have stolen;
take time to visit regale forest oaks,
ride the rapids of rivers swift and swollen.
Abandon dead trails, thy Sybarite lusts
in Nature's awe, seeking heart there adjusts.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-18-2018
Sonnet, ( Nature's Great Gifts And Its Awesome Healing Powers)
The arms of the willow started to sway
and this curious glow rippled my way.
While flirting with my feet,
nature played a song so sweet.
The lake our dance floor 'til the sun's first ray.
I envy those living as part of the wild
For I too, once heeded its call
A smoldering ember since I was a child
Urge, and belonging all part of the thrall.
I’ve enjoyed the fresh taste of a sparkling stream
Felt the tremble as you push through your fear
Stood high on a peak admiring Gods scheme
Felt both delight and remorse for taking a deer.
I’ve walked for weeks through valleys and trees
Traversed mountains with lush native grass
Felt the warmth and the cold of high country breeze
Navigated tussock, forests and high country pass.
I’ve smelt autumn rain as it mingles with dirt
Enjoyed the isolation of me and my views
Valued crude shelter while nature unleashes its hurt
Watched forest birds doing their best to amuse
But I’m now destined to be one of societies slaves
In a world where worth is measured by cash
Where worry and stress are delivered in waves
Where those without are regarded as trash.
I felt most alive in the middle of nowhere
Now dead when hemmed by city and streets
Nothing compares with fresh mountain air
Living free, no money, bills, or receipts.