Best Nature Philosophy Poems
Sonnet I
In realms of emerald hush where sunlight strains.
Through veils of green. A silent throng takes root.
A clovered congregation on the plains
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
No pleas for mortal ken their silence breaks.
Yet in their rooted quietude they bring
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes.
From dust they rise, by unseen hands embraced
To greet the dawn's first kiss, a deep-green dream.
Unfurling fronds that grasp the sun's warm face...
A silent pact with life's sidereal stream.
No eyes behold the light their essence drinks
No lips confess the air for which it thinks.
Sonnet II
Through fragrant whispers secretly softly pass
On unseen currents borne a cryptic lore
A web of messages that dance like grass.
A wisdom! newly sworn on Nature's floor -
No clash of arms? no battles fought in vain.
Yet messages they send on silent wings...
A language dovetailed deep, a copious chain,
A bond that knows no end, the green world sings.
With patient strength... they pierce the earth's cold hold.
A testament to will unyielding. Strong!
Unmoved by tempests' raging fury bold,
Their roots like anchors grip where they belong.
A silent war against the storm's harsh might.
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light.
Corona
A quiet war in bright green
A song for animals and plants
Listen to people in every green leaf.
No songs from hidden throats they sing.
Through fragrant, sotto voce... secrets softly pass
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
Couplet
A lesson composed in green, a truth to glean.
Where verdant nature creates and wisdom sings.
while eagles soar high
over rugged mountains
of south carolina
through writings shared
WolfSpirit takes shape
my mind pictures the man
in all his wisdom
half human half spirit
i hear his deep voice
gentle with tones of
clarity and insight
the philosopher speaks
with intensity and
full gamut of emotion
from depths within
he wears his name like a headdress
more than a mere badge of honor
he pays tribute to both
land and its creator
behind him a noble lineage
of a proud peaceful people
his code is truth and honor
delving into life
and its many meanings
pondering the implications
of beauty and the beast
his poetry reflects on
dreams alive and broken
past hurts and scars
life and love interwoven
and all the rest
that binds mankind
through harmonious melodies
of visions of brotherhood
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2023
Born of glaciers, rivers flow,
turquoise ice and untouched snow,
deep green valleys far below,
ancient stands of hardwoods grow.
Icy rivers running deep,
through the mountain's midnight sleep,
darkened waters crest and leap,
earthbound secrets rivers keep.
Stoically the mountains stand,
nurturing the age-old land,
born before mere time began,
when Earth was pure, devoid of man.
River rocks were once rough stone,
water-smoothed, by eons honed,
each grain of sand is sand alone,
truths unspoken lie unknown.
Listen to the waters speak,
every river, ocean, creek,
there lie answers all must seek,
flowing from the mountain's peak.
©copyright2009DanielleWhite
what grows from these petri dishes?
when will these hives
with their metal monsters
their deceiving smiles
their artistic like visages
stop breeding,
stop growing,
like a virus?
what of the fertile land they cover,
the resources they consume?
what of their ravenous appetite?
and barely
a forest untouched.
17~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
II. Nature's Cyclical Dance
End is not death. Changing into something new is good.
A leaf falls, then goes back into the dark soil.
Next year's flowers sleep under winter's quiet.
We fear the end, but nature shows us it's not bad.
Death is a new start.
My Anishinaabe mentor Little Deer laughed at my wide eyes.
That first forest walk, as he plucked a bright trillium —
"Cherish her fleeting beauty, but mourn her not, my friend.
This flower's death will birth a thousand more to come."
His people know life dances on; death is rebirth.
I hear them now. Those ancient voices riding wind's breath.
They speak through birch and pine... calling me back to the way —
Honoring and not fearing, the seasons' turning tides.
Each dawn's first birdsong and each brook's gentle murmuring
Echoing the rhythm pulsing through this wild...
and wondrous earth.
Let me join this cycle, rooted but free.
I'll welcome death and the return of life.
Like the forest floor, decay and new growth mix.
With every breath, I'll connect with the source.
This cycle of life, death, and being born again is a gift.
----
"The Sacred Forest, a Nurturing Mother, never lets life die, / But reclaims, recycles, and rebirths in her eternal lullaby." - Daniel Henry Rodgers
Adrift in this vast,
empty sea. Silent,
save for the beckoning call
of distant gulls,
your only friend. And
the makeshift mast and sail is
uselessly flaccid.
And beneath,
concealed
by the dangling sway,
of muddy-
moss-green ribbons of waving kelp,
is the dark murk
of unknown depths.
Then the wind
panics,
arousing your sail and
it swells into life
and draws you towards home.
Flowers of the Curious Mind
Sent were flowers of the curious mind
following echoes of Cantu's muse
No curses , words grossly unkind
insults hidden deeply in clever ruse
Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man
with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet
Transgress not Nature's surviving plan
with arrogant contempt born of defeat
Embrace life's melody as a lost friend
dancing within it's tune so fine
Live, live gloriously until life's end
drink, drink richly of it's finest wine!
05-24-2014
Connecting with nature
Walking along I find peace…
Autumn leaves surround me
Crunching rhythms at my feet
I Step inside harmony ~
Brown leaves start swirling
A Tiny tornado forming
Admiringly…I stand glowing…
A mighty wind blows off my hat
Quickly…I wonder …what was that?
As I hold onto my head
It blows away end over end
Nature playing games instead
My gracious hat…ahead it blew
I ran after it fast and true~
Blown up against a Willow
Floppy hat blocked indeed
Tiny raindrops starting to fall
Cool drops kiss my cheek
Nature’s spirits forever speak ~
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Some things I think are overhead
Are also underneath my bed
And this is true of you, as well.
So mark my words now, as I tell:
Beneath the clothing bins we store,
Under the stairs and basement floor,
Beneath the tracks of snails and slugs,
The homes of chipmunks, moles, and bugs,
Beneath the cracks where waters run
Through garnet and magnesium,
Below the mantle—an iron core,
More mantle, crust, then ocean floor,
With thermal vents, volcanic glint,
Turtles, whales, and tiny shrimp,
Beneath the driving winds and rain,
We find the stratosphere again.
And deeper still, the moon’s bright face,
Then stars and wonders strewn through
space.
So maybe now my claim is clear;
We rest upon a little sphere, and
“Up” and “Down” make sense alone
To Beings who are stuck at home.
driftwood--
someday again
another shoreline
In a dark corner of the library,
the young philosopher deeply thinks,
adding to the tapestry
of ancient minds that thought but failed to solve
the puzzles of reality.
But as his careful mind reflects,
in silence with the smell of books,
his soul is startled by the sound
of cooing doves beyond the dusty walls,
and he must stop to listen.
To the divinity within all of us
The wind blows outside my window
Reeling mercilessly against the trees.
Its power deployed, their will to destroy
And I can hear them yell in rebellion.
Daring the wind to try with all its might
Had gone there before, they know the score.
They know the fury the wind can carry
Whatever is in store, they cannot ignore.
They stand out, proud, arms stretched out
Bonded are their souls, holding the same goal.
Their unity, a fortress that found no distress
They would face this trial as they did those prior.
It was their legacy born in tenacity
From the beginning, it was God given.
So that man would come to understand
The extent of his God given potential.
To walk his way through life's hills and valleys
Building character, until he is one in heart with the Creator.
By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 6/1/10.
Loving Nature without loving God is a neat trick
But as I love Nature, how could I complain?
Are you a humanist? Spinoza a guy with a large brain
Defined God as Nature; if one is not the other, then please do take your pick
When you are very civilized the wild jungle or temptation:
-Less your cup of tea-
Then God surely is not Love, how bitter can you be?
Without moral compass: (We are so rude) Without chlorophyll: damnation
Without morals indeed I may be lost. Without life much worse:
God without Nature: it’s just no good, or to me, a curse.
Nature excluding God’s creation, I add, gave birth to the capitalist his saw
He logged the wood, set fire to the Amazon and this he named the law
Since the two, towards each other being amorous:
Nature and its God, as Spinoza be my guide: synonymous
The Tao stares at its reflection on a lake as two birds.