Best Outdoor Poems
Sadly, my generation may have been the last to grasp the
blast of outdoor adventure play for as long as childhood stayed.
Eager anticipation took our feet from breakfast table to door
where sunshiny wealth lent growing health while we explored.
Come lunch, dinner or dark, and we’d be home on time’s mark.
From mud pies and dirt mountains to frogs and daisy chains
to sitting logs, chalk marks and red rover, red rover games,
we created, imagined, questioned, practiced and acted.
All adults in the neighborhood were bound by kids so active.
I prefer my memories to today’s play with electronic gadgets.
I ate in an outdoor shed today;
The cold did not stand in my way.
I wasn’t bothered by the noise
Of traffic which, at times, annoys.
Construction sounds, like drills and booms
Or buses spewing noxious fumes
Could not create the slightest dent
In my good mood, nor money spent
On mediocre lunchtime fare;
I was so happy to be there!
My friend and I, both bundled up,
Enjoyed our time to chat and sup.
My first time in an outdoor shed
Since Covid reared its ugly head
Was glorious because, to me,
It felt like how things used to be.
THREE OUTDOOR SCENES
frog pond mallards
on the grassy, shallow bank
watching reflections
table with peanuts
round and round the tree he goes
caw, caw cries high crow
reading by the sea
this boy sitting on a rock
gull catches the breeze
Dave Austin
There once was an entrepreneur
An Irish born rank amateur
He made garden chairs
Outdoor tables I swear
His name was Paddy O'Furniture
Written 14th March 2017
Entry to "luck of the Irish limerick" contest
Notes: happy St Patrick's day to all my fellow Irish men and women
The ducks in the air flying in a V-shape.
The clouds overhead looks dark like rain,
The sunrise with its orange-red on the lake
The cattails whistling in the wind.
The snow-covered glisten in the sun
The ducks quacking to the other ducks it is time to go south
Father and sons are going camping together, it is going to snow
It is duck hunting season
The boys like to go swimming while the father is cooking.
The sunset brings on the colors of the sunrise
The clouds begin to form up as it is going to snow.
The cattails are still, the wind is quiet.
The crickets are chirping, the fire is dying
The campers are getting ready to go to sleep.
When we go hunting for food it may be ducks, deer or elk.
We freeze the meat, so we can have it all year long
We eat the meat in many ways.
Hunting for food is joyful but sometimes we can get
What we were hunting for.
The last leaf’s falling from the tree
Farewell to autumn!
Snowflakes start their waltzing spree
To better future blossom.
Your hair darling turned to gray
As well as mine.
Our years together – a safety bay,
They are like aged wine.
More often I would love to hug,
To feel your warm embrace,
Near the fireplace to snug,
To kiss your lovely face.
I’d like to cuddle up to you
And to escape the loneliness.
In spite of time and old view
Remain with lasting beautiness.
And let the wind rage outdoor,
It won’t change our feelings.
I want to love you more and more,
Up to the end of our livings.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Paint
Cans
Explode
Coloring
North America
In vivid bouquets of Bunting
____________________________
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Passerina_ciris
Would rather recite poetry
in a forest
in a dell
in a woodland
in a meadow
Would be joined by
squirrels
chickadees
earthworms
Would not judge
my poetry and say you suck
Would rather recite poetry
by a river
by rocks
by jolly green giants
by humming birds
Would rather recite poetry
in nature than at an open mic reading
The rain that fell on the night was of the type pot plants like,
it has stopped the air is mild, and the flowers smiles except the lemon tree
that is born grumpy and bears bitter fruit, which incidentally is good
with fried fish and it refreshes otherwise lame dishes, say fish cakes with
boiled potatoes, a meal crying out for something bitter to hide
the Norwegian boredom food like seeing Oslo`s municipal building
ten times a day. My wife has watered the indoor plants that were green
with envy not being allowed to go outside.
For lunch we are having soup, it has too much pepper in it and again
I have to ask the lemon tree for help as roses are pretty but useless.
Music concert realized under the stars.
Rock and Electronic merged with rhythm.
Making the assistants dance through the night.
Enjoying the music make you relax from the
hectic schedule of the week.
Hours of dancing and music for your
entertaintment.
Dance, sing, laugh, enjoy the moment.
its wide in side
we lay
on a hot day
than its the feeling
got us reeling
the boby is hot wet
its kind of cool
IT BECOMES
OUTDOOR POOL SEX
pensive
whisper softly
sublime divine evening
cloudless summit endless river
wistful
AP: 1st place 2021
Can you still grasp me trembling on the ledge?
Your braw heart was precautious to dive in.
Do you spot me pause seeking out a pledge?
Can you still grasp me trembling on the ledge?
A strong leaf turns to a caring skin hedge.
To taste my zeal in your arms and within.
Can you still grasp me trembling on the ledge?
Your braw heart was precautious to dive in.
Written: March 20, 2023
When someone plans a wedding
And the venue’s out of doors,
There most often is a back-up
Just in case it rains or pours.
If there’s not, it’s rather daring,
Like a gauntlet has been thrown;
Will the gods take up the challenge
Or leave well enough alone?
So the wedding I attended,
In the evening, on a roof,
Was a testament to chutzpah
And the party was the proof.
Though a rainy week preceded,
It was glorious and dry,
With a breeze to stir the senses
And a sunset in the sky.
As we watched the glowing couple,
Filled with love we all could see,
We just shook our heads and marveled
At the absence of Plan B.
Mother Nature gave her blessing
So we danced and dripped with sweat,
Feeling giddy with relief
That we weren’t soaking wet!
We’re in a “new” trendy neighborhood called Cascade Heights, in Atlanta. It’s lush - hydrangea, musk rose, hoya and blue false indigo are in bloom and there are greens of every possible variation.
The sky is clear and southern-sun bright - shadows are crisp. It’s going to be 91°(f) today and although it’s only noon, the heat is rising.
Leong pointed out the black tubes that discreetly provide air-conditioning, carefully hidden in the shrubbery surrounding the shaded, outdoor dining area. She thought that was very clever and American. “They’re for survival,” I assure her, “it gets hotter and hotter over the summer.”
Leong and I are finishing lunch, savoring a decadent chocolate chai-tiramisu dessert. “Oh, my God,” Leong said, sliding the chocolaty spoon over her tongue, “oomm.”
“So good,” I said, moaning with pleasure and closing my eyes.
The waiter comes over with an iPad, I wave my watch, like a magician’s wand and we’re free to go.
We were going to relax a minute and finish the last of our cold chai-tea, but as the waiter left our cleared dishes, a rando, wino-looking, elderly man came up to the bushes by our table and said to me, “You look sad.”
First of all, I think: NO - and who ARE you? Thinking secondly, OMG, go away.
I didn’t know what to say - but he put the kibosh to lingering. I started having an “eye-contact-only” conversation with Leong. Are we about done here - do you have your phone and purse - shall we go?
Leong and I stand, in unison, pushing our chairs back with our legs, gathering our shopping bags and belongings in fluid motions long-perfected at mall food-courts.
“We have to go,” I say, with a half-smile and goodbye nod to the man, “have a nice day.”
He watches us go for a moment and we surreptitiously watch him watch us go. Charles, our escort, who was at another table, fell in, a short distance behind us.
Maybe the guy was just being friendly, but you can’t underestimate CrAzY in 2022