Long Life nature Poems
Long Life nature Poems. Below are the most popular long Life nature by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Life nature poems by poem length and keyword.
Most people can see that the sky is blue.
It is not difficult to see that the ocean is too.
Green is the color of grass and buds in the spring.
Its appearance signifies the renewal of everything.
We owe the color of green to the chloroplast.
It ensures that life on the earth will last.
So many things on the earth are green or blue.
Ubiquitous are objects with either hue.
However, there are some with a rare condition.
With blue or green, they can make no distinction.
It is due to the absence of blue receptors in the retina.
This inherited condition is known as “Tritanopia”.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this poem.
Listen to the stream hits the rocky bed
Competing the sound of insect spreads
The spring wind swings conifer trees
In the valley composed a soft melody
The sound of greenish tops hit by water
Up and down like the heart pulse meter
Refreshes a cool and clean surrounding
On the downhill sounds the whistling
Life of the stream couldn’t consider
Just moved on by the natural manner
Like a lonely man travels to somewhere
An upcoming event couldn’t be aware
Here and now displays a lovely scene
The heart beats delight in neat green
The future of the stream is uncertain
Actual happiness, here on the mountain
The caramel leaves seem to fall from sky
In waves, as zephyr sings through chimes and eaves
Its song that whispers a fall lullaby
As a gentle rustling wind through autumn leaves
September a time to slow down, be still
Slowly now we have less light_ more dark
A drawing to home and hearth seems our will
Beckoning to fill with bounty our hearts
Caramel sauce for those crisp apples near
The heat of summer is in distant past
None of that snow of winter yet to fear
Watering chores of summer now are past
All things for coming winter out in place
Now one can slow to a snail's simple pace
In honor of Brian Strand's contest...
*Note
Click on"About That Poem"
Surrounded by the city fuss
where throngs of lonely people live;
each day their lives superfluous
while trying hard as hopes misgive,
and years sift quickly through life’s sieve.
A peaceful pace is what I seek
away from life’s enduring grind
that leaves my weary spirit weak;
tranquility I long to find
and leave this city noise behind.
A walk through quiet forest green
while bathing in tranquility,
enjoying solitude serene
with nature’s calm docility,
and elegant gentility.
The scent of pine that fills the air
invigorating senses well
as quiet thoughts lift up in prayer,
and peaceful dreams within me dwell
while nature’s calm my thoughts compel.
The freshness of the forest breeze,
the calming sound of forest rill,
tranquility these moments seize.
I’ll walk this fern lined path until
my mind is cleared and dreams fulfilled.
December 8, 2019
I am fervent honeyed sunshine, and I'm still in my youth,
With warm colors ever varying, as in deep darkness I move,
I am a bluebird singing, from the leafy boughs of a tree,
I am the iridescent rainbow, and wave motion on the sea.
I am the raging fire, that has suddenly burst into flame,
And I am the hopeful dawn, and green wilderness untamed.
I am the opening and close of day, and luster in between,
The vivid butterfly scene, and the pearly moonlight sheen.
I am mountains sand and clouds, sapphire skies and flowers,
I am all colors, and to living creatures, my light matters.
Who am I? Answer: The sun
I've learned about the Earth while I've watched it die,
while getting facts and figures as to how and just why.
And never understood why so many have lawns
not noticing the animals and trees are gone.
I'll vote for politicians if there's one I think is new,
but truthfully I haven't given him a job to do.
And now the food and clothing and a shelter built for two,
is steak and suits and mansions filled with hummers for a coo.
Our televisions tell us when something has gone wrong,
and not of people doing things to help to keep us strong.
I'm starting to get greener as my fears are getting worse.
The shame is that my bravery is coming in tears first.
I, naughtily, peeled and peeled you to find the truth within,
You have, dear, taught me the philosophy of nothingness;
Each of your petals, like magical herbs, tickles my skin,
Each leaf, as a united nation, enwraps your thickness...!
In you is fulfilled the Buddhist concept of Nirvana,
You are accused of arousing sensuality too;
The Israelites, in each step, seeking flora and fauna,
The Bible says each one missed you, restlessness in them grew...!
One who wishes to kiss one's spouse should not eat you, they say,
Each dish of each little home, yet, dear, you make delicious:
Antioxidants, Blood Sugar, and the Digestive way,
Symbol of protection, memories... you are auspicious...!
Peel yourself selflessly... this is what every onion says,
Resurrection means crucifixion too in humbler ways...!!!
S ilence fills the air hanging on the limbs of night.
N uances of gray fall into rivers of purple dark.
O nly the crackle of ice and fallen limbs prevail.
W onderous is the falling of the snow
Silence has a ring, a resonace, drawing sleep askance,
filling the air with white noise and the hollows with night,
hanging on the limbs iciciles form sculptural lollies.
Of night we speak and the snow that blesses the ground
Nuances of gray wrap the forest like the mufflers of children,
fall gently into rivers and dells of fantasy where fairies dwell,
of purple-dark the royal dream, the snowfalls deeply tranced.
Only the crackle of ice speaks to the glow of moonbeams.
And, fallen limbs brace to hide the rabbits and the wrens,
prevailing ever against the wonderous weight of snow.
Is the falling a fearsome plight to be shunned no to be sought ..
of the snow, the snow..well, for in its beauty are we all caught.
“The Turning of Leaves”
While walking down a
Forest trail
I came upon
A most beautiful sight
Much to my delight
A forest floor covered
In multitudes
Of yellows, oranges,
And crimson reds.
Fluttering about on a chiffon breeze
These jewels from summer’s past fell
Stitching blankets for queens
As they lie in midnight dreams
I stopped along this forest path
To claim a few and marvel at
This palette of beauty unseen
Just days before.
I reach to fill my arms
With their beautiful hues
And musky scents.
A gift to my lover
For her intimate desires
As I reach
I hear a rustling
Beneath my feet.
So lovely a voice
It spoke to me
As in a lullaby.
“Please let me be
I’m here to please.”
I’m soon to drift asleep
Under these blankets of
Majestic hues.
Much like you
I’ll awaken one day
To greening vales,
Flowering meadows, and
The new birth of these forest trees
Of
Maples, Oaks and Aspen leaves.
Treasure this Treasure.
As you contemplate your Greystone Years
You’ll drift through life’s many doors.
Many wars and relentless fears,
Many dreams and newborn themes,
Many leaves you will have turned,
And many springs yet to come
You’ll ask
Why isn’t the world as pretty as this scene?
The eagle circles high in the air, watching a mouse just leaving its lair.
With wide sloping turns he comes ever near hoping his prey won't know that he's there.
Blinded by the sun and driven by hunger the little mouse bewildered from its winter slumber, senses no fear.
But death is there, circling, watching, it waits.
The little mouse freezes sensing its fate. Can it make it to safety before it's too late?
The eagles' eyes narrow, its talons extend, the time for waiting has come to its end.
He dives, the mouse runs: zig zagging through the grass.
The play of life plays on, who of them will win?
If not this mouse, then another for the eagle on the wind.