Nature Elegy Poems | Examples
These Nature Elegy poems are examples of Elegy poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Elegy Nature poems written by international poets.
A Real Bodhisattva
A bodhisattva is the Buddhist equivalent
Of a warrior for Christ, who is well on their way
To being Christlike themselves.
Of course there are many degrees of bodhisattva
From those who only have the wish to be
To those who actually are.
Literally millions are examples of the former.
The Dalai Lama is a good example of the latter.
Real bodhisattvas are rare.
Their hallmark is infinite love and compassion
For all beings
Combined with deep insight
Into the true nature of reality.
This week the world lost a real bodhisattva
In the form of a young American patriot,
Who at just 31 years old
Had successfully reached a whole generation
Galvanizing many young people
To critically look within
And embrace traditional American values
Of family, honesty, integrity, openness,
Love, tolerance, inclusivity, and faith.
And for this he was martyred.
The world is a better place
For having known Charlie Kirk.
But it is certainly not a better place without him
Unless we take up his mantle
Take the torch, and shield and sword
And become real warriors of Christ
Bodhisattvas in the army of truth.
(9/12/25)
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!
When i die,
Lay me by
Where the wildflowers grow
Then as I lay,
You can pray
For my presence to ‘round you flow
And as winter calls,
And the ice falls
And makes my grassy mound rise with snow
Let spring bloom,
Flowers on my tomb
Grow in the sun’s heat and the wind’s gentle blow
As summer rises,
Bringing heat to new sizes
And away my spirit to where few do know
Finally when fall sighs
Watch as the leaf flies
As a reminder of the deadly reaping of what I did sow
At the grave side
Always a moment for
deep reflection
About life and its fleeting
nature
We are reminded that life
is but a breath
We are a breath short before
we join the dead.
The grave though silent, yet
speaks volumes
It tells the story of a life once
lived
Love once shared and legacies
left.
Questions coming to the fore
Am l living or existing
Am I leaving a legacy
Am I loving and giving enough
These are thoughts at the grave side
(Written on the 3rd of December, 2024)
Historically the books are written by a well-known writer
The characters are formed to choose the sense of flight or fighter
The library of the mind stows away the facts from the fiction
The sequence of events unfold, memorised with restriction
The nature of the story, can cause the mind to cry
The loss of peaceful innocence in those days gone by
The imagery of barricades in a crowded stark front room
Foreboding silence and tension create a sense of doom
In the old terraced house, there’s a closure of ranks
As the fighter steps forward and the other flanks
The pushing and shoving in the silent stark room
The circle decreases and a flash warps the plume
The memories jagged as they cut like a knife
As she’s hit by the boxer and fights for her life
The dry autumnal street carpets red and gold
The crunch of the leaves cushioned the blow
The flash of the memory vivid and sharp
Innocence held with such disregard
The nature of the story, can cause the mind to cry
The loss of peaceful innocence in those days gone by
Elegy – 7-17-24
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Elegy for Old Growth
Through measures of metered melancholy
The tattered winds sing a rent elegy,
A pensive wail for pristine old growth,
A drifting chant in pure pitch of final farewell –
The mute tongue howls in eulogy
For virgins of a thousand turns around the sun
For helpless giants surrendered in atonal sacrifice.
Gentle titans with feathery boughs lifted their faces
To embrace misted melodies of summer and winter snows
Forest zephyrs sang lullabies for sparrows
Nesting in their rustling wombs
Then shared the secret lyrics of their song
With robins sheltered in their lofty grace of red bark
In evensongs, matins and spring symphonies.
The myrrh of burial mixes with their lingering fragrance
In desolation and in their exposed flesh,
Nude hillsides of purple rage
Scream in final dirges of farewell
Modulated into anthems sung to saplings in circles of renewal
Little ones, like half steps, change elegies to odes
The threadbare zephyr now chants paeans to remember.
In the cold abyss,
we beseech that we
may not wither in and
from our purchase.
Even though we do not
expedite ourselves and
flow in life's narrow progression.
There's no certainty to existence.
just when you come out of that
penurious life, residing up to the
dreams, unnatural nature whispers
your end in an ending echo,
leaving those we cherish in
despair and hurt of a loss.
It makes me wonder,
why then Do we even try?
When a creative dies,
some colours of nature fade.
Live on Wild!
A tribute to Marie,
Marie, you seemed to draw the short straw in life,
Again and again,
Yet somehow you were able find a way to keep giving,
To those who we thought less deserving.
But giving was in your nature,
As it seems to be with most who have little that is physical to give,
But a whole lot more of the spiritual to impart.
We hope if you are looking down on us as we gather here today,
You are at peace now with, the belated knowledge,
That your life mattered,
Your presence was a blessing,
And you did make a difference,
Inspiring others to do better,
We wish your stay with us could have been longer,
But we pray that you have found the peace,
That you had been searching for,
For far too long.
I now call upon others to share stories that,
Show how much your life mattered to them,
Then, now and in all times to come.
(We are interring her ashes after all these years when the immediate family are all together at the same time)
I love walking in the rain
Because no one sees my tears
The drops mask my pain
And wash away my fears
The thunder drowns out my sobs
As lightning lights my way
I find comfort in the drops
That fall upon my face
No longer do I have to hide
My sorrow from the world
The rain becomes my guide
And my tears are unfurled
I know that I'm not alone
As the storm rages on
Nature heals my broken soul
And I feel like I belong
So let the rain keep falling down
And let my tears flow free
In this moment I have found
The peace that eludes me
Forgotten Beauty
Scarlet Beauty in her deathbed
Beauteous than the dewy rose
Beauteous than the dale of hermit
Beauteous than the Oceans pose
Beauteous than the eves and mornings
Which in woodland come and go
Holy are the tombs in Meadow
Midst of daisies, midst of grass
No one bothers, no one whispers
No one mourns at Beauty loss
Heavens for her send a shower
Nature for her sings a hymn
Winds of Autumn scents of Summer
Paint a dewy hut in whim
On the tuft of grass and roses
On the moonlit woodland ride
god of love on pipes and timbral
Sings For her by ocean tides
Muse of poesy sees and whispers
Then on winds send her a kiss
Gem of ocean, pearl of wisdom
Sorrow goddess thee we miss!
Foggy morns and dewy evenings
On the channels dark and damp
Hover by thy resting chamber
Far and far from world of men
In the end they will forget you
Shine of temple, earthen lamp
With the leaden teary eyes
Walk on channels wide and damp
Old Persian expedition of eight ships
Eight hundred soldiers on board with whips
Traveled and vanquished Aksumites of good gesture
People of worship, peace and humane nature
Aksum of ivory and gold
Many stories, forgotten and untold
Ripped of faith, freedom and sold
Queen of beauty blazed houses of the laity and cold
Forty years all devouts left defenseless and bleak
On the frail grounds under scorching sunny peak
Yet stones of faith stood tall over the weak
Images of the Cross on coins, strong faith
of the banished people speak
Cairns of unnamed heroes and heroines of faith
Christians of unity, subjects of the saith
Above all afflictions and tribulations from the cursed breath
Bright lights dwell on good, strong souls
chained by shadowed wraith
I found him lying on his bed,
hair tousled and with a sweet smile.
I realized that he was dead.
I knew this was no show of guile.
A lifeless shell fueled with faith
betrayed a muted mask of wraith.
Though none, I called Emergency.
They asked me blankly, “Are you sure?”
No breath, stiff limbs, lividity –
a terminal illness, no cure.
“I’m sure (as Hell!), yes positive!”,
assuming that, the causative.
All three came as well as ER,
coroner, sheriff, mortician.
One to play the body’s chauffer.
One to judge the man’s condition.
One to say there was no more breath.
One to announce the “formal” death.
A cold harshness to the moment,
finality so sure and straight.
No use to sit down and lament.
Too late to try to clear the slate.
It is what it is, as they say.
Nothing further to do but pray.
An homage of his joy and bliss;
his ardour for life and nature.
His pure love for God not remiss;
his place within Heaven secure.
A faith-based life and in the end
all he wanted was one true friend.
The nature has been unruly
Where we laid our chimneys
Pandemonium whirling in the air
The accents terrible was heard
The hatched to the woeful time
Manifest the obscure birds
The clamouring livelong through nature
The earth is peculiar on the diasporic living
All suffering of peculiar dizziness
The assailants dumb founded in their horror act
All is known through the combustion proclamation
The sweetest buds are comsumed by cankerworms
The surrogates abort their oats
Methinks, this is a change of eclipse
A major alteration that bizarre
A kind of colic pinched that toppled lives
Who will save the world from this horrors
Of black and white mind and flesh
Who will ease the diasporas?
Or the Matthew 24 has arrived to pass
I know life is fleeting, it all but crumbles to dust,
willessly washed away by the passage of time.
So easily lain waste and forgotten.
Yet for me who knew her dearest,
so easily enamoured by her graceful nature,
swooned over by her cosmic appeal,
chose not to sever ties with this short life.
But honour her in my lasting days, knowing
full well the reconciliation that death shall bring.
Contest: One on the chin Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Date: 10/09/2020
pieces of candy
in the sky
amidst the trees
songs sashay
upon the breeze
a taxidermist dream