Long Nature love Poems
Long Nature love Poems. Below are the most popular long Nature love by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nature love poems by poem length and keyword.
in the light of moon and sun, roaring boldly, our faith has won - our love He will never shun ~ by poet
walking by the creek, who murmurs in her steady pace
reflections of the joy, laughter stirring the stars in space
feels just like a song, promising the sweetness of grace
delicious moments in heartbeats, blessings to embrace
warmed by the sunlight’s glimmers, coloring gentle dawn
so life seeks to reveal the beauty and wonder before it’s gone
breathless praise comes on wings as they fly on and on
revealing the secrets of God’s blessings – to angels we are drawn
will life soon learn this story that once encouraged our song?
I believe in beautiful mornings,
Lapis lazuli skies,
Cotton ball clouds,
Waking up slowly,
Feeling the lovely warmth,
More ardent than a trillion suns,
Emanating from the person beside you,
As you can’t help it
But embrace the small of their back.
I believe in dusk,
Sunsets of roses and tulips,
Red, pink, orange, purple.
I believe in star shine,
Coal-black nights,
Pierced by billions of stars,
Precious sparkling ores and gems,
Surrounding a crescent moon,
Like a smile amid the darkness,
But still finding it not as wonderful
As the way they smile
When you gingerly caress their face.
I believe in beauty,
The beauty of nature,
The beauty of the world.
But it isn’t nearly as wonderful
As when you have someone
To share it with.
If I was invisible
If I was invisible
I will always be a voice
That will always whisper
To every ear to hear of love
If I was invisible
I will empty all hearts
Heavy full of hate
And full them up with love
If I was invisible
I will enter into the bodies
Of the African leaders
And show what change means
If I was invisible
I will speak of nature love and unity
through the mouth of
All religious leaders
If I was invisible
I will stop the use of money
So we can see our selves as
Human again not commodities
If I was invisible
I will stop all forms of
Women abuse all over the world
If I was invisible
I will get ride of child labours
In places all over the world
If I was invisible I will burn
All nations flags
And rise the flag of love
The flag the represent all
As one nation
If I was invisible
I will stop all wars of today
Only if I was invisible
As always I wish
Oh sorry but am just
Visible is obvious here
All like a dream
As I dreamed last night .
All in today.
I saved a spider
from the Pre-K
classroom.
I set it free...
I served kids
cupcakes
the size of a double
fist, or two hearts.
I laid on my back
and listened to the bees,
sweetly buzzing soft
and collecting pollen
patiently.
I consider a cardinal
through the branches
above me.
I walked twenty feet
to another tree.
I analyzed the work
and movement
of another cardinal.
I held the slender trunk
to feel the heartbeat
for less than a minute.
Then I moved down
the grass.
I don't run near
the throughway
because it sounds
like the world
is screaming and bleeding.
It drowns out the birds.
Each one of us follows a specific quest,
and there many different ones;
for me it's that passionate love which blooms
in spring when rain becomes mist.
Watching roses drip as eyes that weep restores
the memory of that forgotten sadness
brought by a faithless love known too briefly
to discover the scope of its insincerity.
Why didn't I believe in her fickle promise?
She only gazed at those radiant stars,
as a true one wouldn't have to compromise
the beautiful truth not stained with lies.
Still waiting to feel that passionate
love which blooms in spring...
happy wagtails by the petal-draped lake,
gather to make their notes ring.
Besides velvet-soft kisses that I eagerly steal
from tempting lips seeking this man's warm hand,
what else could please me more than an indulgent will
with that passionate love which blooms in spring?
Let The Flowers Grow Again Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Contest Judged: 9/2/2025 4:03:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 26, 2025
There are days the globe feels heavy,
when the garden does not answer back,
and every stem bows under the weight of rain.
I walk among the silence,
touching soil with trembling hands,
wondering if beauty remembers me
if blossoms still dream beneath the dark.
Yet even in the hushed, forgotten corners,
a pulse remains.
Hidden beneath the globe,
roots hold fast in quiet
keeping the echo
of a vanished sun.
I believe, when gentler winds arrive,
and grief begins to loosen its hold,
the earth will speak again.
Blooms will turn their faces upward,
not in rebellion.
So let them grow
not just for the season,
but for every heart that needs reminding-
love is never gone
it only waits to bloom.
Soak in the sunny streams and brooks and see,
Feel what life’s like yon tomes of books and see.
Grit nowhere in the heart where’s love any?
In begging much money nor love any.
________________________________
Ghazal quatrain | 04.11.2025 | books, nature, love, money, sun
Note: This quatrain looks like a set of two opening couplets called matlaa. The transliteration of the Urdu is as under:
Dhoopmeiñ neekalo, ghataaoñmeiñ nahaakar dekho,
Zindagi kyaa hai kitaaboñ ko hataakar dekho.
Dill meiñ na ho zoorrat to muhabbat nahiñ meelati,
Khairaat meiñ itani badi daulat nahiñ meelati. - Nidaa fazlee
Dear Budding Poet,
Modern poetry to me is the reflection of the chaos and
declining intolerance of modern times. It expresses the pent-up
emotions writhing in complexity trying to embrace our beautiful lives.
I know you’re a budding poet pining to express yourself and
aspiring to make a mark. My advice to you would
be to listen to your heart and transcribe in your own way what
it says. It’ll become a poem because your heart is the window
on the world through which you perceive the human values taking
intricate shapes, yarns of emotions weaving tapestry of joy
and grief, and the beauty of life designing ecstasy in your mind.
Don't ever close this window. You look out at the pristine
nature and absorb the elegance it frames. You would reach
the realm of exaltation when your mind would swim on
imagination. Let it flow in its own course meandering through
the landscape of your times. Wake up the muse in you and
let it float. You’ll then find formless blocks of words appear
as imagery. You need to use your pen to sculpt from these
the piece of art, your poetry.
Poetry in my life is like a perennial fountain drenching my
parched mind, drowning my sorrow, draining my tears
and satiating me with joy of creation.
My favorite themes : nature, love, emotions, fantasy,
introspection, desire, dream.
My favorite reference sources : www. howmanysyllables.com,
Cliché Finder, Thesaurus, www.rhymezone.com.
Titles of my favorite poems I’ve written (in order of preference) :
Atmospheric Pressure, Your Lacustrine Beauty, Through
The Opaque Night, Flowing Silence, As I was Walking In The Snow,
Searching You, Sign of Times, Kite Flies Away From Concrete
Jungle, Opening The Mind’s Petals, Embrace of Quietus.
My literary background : I’m an Earth Scientist having a doctorate
degree, published many scientific papers , received national
awards for research. My parents who were teachers of
literature infused in me the love for poetry. I started writing poetry
from high school days, published 4 books of poems.
Suggestion for book title : “The making of a poet”,
“Poems in search of a poet”.
May, 23, 2018.
Hectic red steadfast on earth and anchored fast
Caught in the beginning of the end of working days
To yield a common profit from the land as harvested
On beams of yellow sun light set in motion in the Spring
Beings on oceans of colors with orange poppy fields
That only feel the warmth of winds circumference
Along with golden wheat that is ready to be taken in
Before eaten by Winter strangers and their friends
In a spectacle of hills rolled up in evening green
Beds of vegetation dream of wheat in foreign lands
Under blankets of sky pulled up to open window ledges
A baker gives full attention to making bread
The aroma drifts to the seashore close
While Spring goes back to sleep at peace
And near enough to hear the ocean break
Collapsing waves upon the shells already there
Someone in the wooden cabin listens fervently
Watching out for Summer whispering in
An open vase or vessel fills with country air
Prepared to hold the flowers of the field
Cut with kindness ready for the dinner table
Bread and water are there for company
As well as comfort for some weary bones
An old couple still find romance in holding hands
Vast open lands that radiant with natures colors
Require receptacles made of clay to celebrate
To display the beauty of the day while saying grace
Wind and rain bring back the wheat fields from the past
Swaying flags of yellow gold on beams of light
Anchored from the soil up to the sky
Boundaries emergent to lift the fleeting eye
Flickering light might indicate the end of power
Only shade can hide a candle going out at night
In reference to the Purity Wheat Domain
It remains the same in brightness
Dear Poetry . . .
I have been writing since I was a young girl
at first just scribbles about my cat
about flowers in mom's garden
little things . . . not important things
I even wrote on my bedroom wall
that was not appreciated
so, my parent gave me lots of paper
my grandma gave me a journal
she encouraged me always
when my father died
I wrote a poem about him
in his tool shed
as dust floated
among the cobwebs
and sun shone through dirty windows
that day . . . I found my poetic voice
and my journey began
now, poetry is like breathing to me
I am nothing without it-
need it . . .
I have written of death and graveyards lots
about nature, love, loss, pets, experiences
family, feelings hard to cope with
of letting go and holding on
thoughts pour from my pen
where those words come from
I do not know . . .
God gave me this gift to use
and I will use it always and forever
and when I cannot hold a pen
I will write poetry in my head . . .