Long Nature society Poems
Long Nature society Poems. Below are the most popular long Nature society by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nature society poems by poem length and keyword.
A teenager with the expressions of a middle age individual
is the wonder-creating characteristic of its accelerating growth.
Dwelling in a land not presented with natural gifts;
it still beat all odds to be a member of the Asian Tigers
and a competing contributor to its domain’s prosperity.
The birth place to the Toilet theme amusement park
and a camp of makeup obsessed men.
The fourteenth day of every month is set aside in romance’s banquet
except that of the fourth month when mourning becomes love’s pirate.
February is for young men, march, three times for the ladies.
Prides in the globally acknowledged Boryeona Mud Festival
and gives socialization a new countenance in the “hoesik” event,
while new standards in robotic technology is climaxed
as prison guards, patrols, anti-jelly fish squad and teachers
actively exist through exciting artificial intelligence.
A humiliating public ritual in a form of crime reenactment,
personality stereotypes emanating from the different blood groups,
a nationwide superstitious repugnance to the red ink;
very cultured to even create a backlash
on Bill Gates’ presidential handshake;
typify a people coming a long way from a turbulent past.
A territory of very bright and brainy students;
the god of the LG, Hyundai and Samsung among others;
and to the largest church in size and congregants in the world.
It is the well preserved garden where plastic surgery strives
all to show an amazing growth once heavily stunted,
suffering a suppression entertained by the comfort ladies;
somehow causing a perspective towards the rising sun
to be similar to the swastika’s view by the Jews.
Despite the Japanese colonization, soviet meddling and North Korean threats,
it’s still showing mental strength to be the world’s 12th largest trading Nation.
She showers,
She falls,
She drenches us...
But she shows off a rainbow...
She shines,
She bursts,
She burns us sometimes...
But she lets the gentle breeze blow...
She makes us love the rain
She makes us hate it again
She makes us yearn for a bright sunlight
She makes us afraid of it
She makes our flowers grin and wilt
She makes us cry out of the guilt
She makes our rivers flow and overflow
She makes them run dry to let us know
their worth and bow
Through the fascinating flowers and flies
Through the varied seasons,
Through the falls and rivers
every now and then, she gives us surprises
and teaches us to fall and rise
Cos, she loves us;
Like a caring mother
Like a strict father
Like a playful sibling
The nature loves us all...
But do we love her after all???
Do we treat her well, atleast?
Cutting trees, using plastics, encroaching lands
Throwing garbage in water beds,
Mining sand from river beds,
And what not???
we make her shed tears in every deeds
When her lament is unheard
When she cannot control her anger
She cries, her immaculate tears
outreach us in the form of flood
drought, scorching heat, el nino, la nino, climate odd
Enough is enough
It's high time ,
It's really high time to awake
To make our planet beautiful again
Stop buying plastic,
Stop throwing them on rivers
Stop polluting
Stop the deforestation
Start using public transport
Or start vehicle pooling
Start to plant trees or atleast a plant
But don't forget to take care
Do whatever you can
But please Do it now...
Let us all know the importance of our Environment
And celebrate the World Environment Day...
Incredible in nature, diverse in settlement
a home to the big five beasts
and a constant retailer to glory takers
of distance running in the global games event.
The scrolls of its historic make up
are chaptered by the hunter-gatherer groups;
their replacement by the agropastoralist Cushitic speakers
from the so notably called Horn of Africa;
then the Nilotic-speaking pastoralists
and finally to the migration of Bantu speaking farmers from West Africa.
Significant is the archeoastronomical sites
in the west side of Lake Turkana and in Migori county,
the awesome wildlife of the migrating great wildebeest,
the notable event of Princess Elizabeth’s climbing of its tree
just to come down from it as a Queen;
or the scary tale of two mad lions in Tsavo
are interesting outlooks even in its present day existence.
Tourism, flowers, Tea and Coffee are the beautifiers of its kitchen
yet gross poverty, child labour and prostitution defecate in its corners.
Sadly typical of a geography attributed to the dark continent,
but hope lingers, never giving up, with plans to hit visible strides
conspicuous three decades after the new millennium
setting a systems international unit for a crying baby continent
to become a competing healthy looking Adult.
Rumors spread like a flood seeping through the streets
That an adult black panther, kept as a pet, had escaped,
And was now prowling around the back alleys in town, according to the tweets.
Big cat far too black to see in the dark, lights and shadow play the beast undraped
To show slinking sly shadows of a panther silently prowling for kills and meats.
Kids and wags made things worse by feigning panther roars.
Soon all sorts of sounds prompted fear and flight,
Cats sounds, dog howls, owls, yells and screams all caused uproars.
The rumor mill was rampant, the streets declared unsafe at night
People were forced to stay at home after dark, and hide away indoors.
People started reporting that their cats and dogs had disappeared.
Bones and dropping scattered about, surely signs of panther.
Police patrols were joined by hunters who volunteered
To rid the town of this menace, as jokes and laughs grew to anger
The torrent of false sightings triggered near-miss shots as sheer panic in the streets leered.
The town Mayor became desperate as the situation got worse.
Sightings grew, shots rang out, every shadow had a panther in its tail,
But clearly there was no panther, no sightings, no true signs to ever confirm the curse.
Secretly the Mayor began a search for a panther skin to fake a shooting and so curtail
This urban legend myth with a fake dead panther, fake news, and a fat reward in purse.
A panther skin was found, a trophy hung with lion and tiger in local hunter's room.
The skin was stuffed, dabbed with blood, and snuck into dark alley in secret.
Two blank shots were fired and photos taken as crowd gathered in the gloom.
Reporters primed to fake the news: "Panther found, killed and taken away in casket"
It was all done and dusted, urban legend lingered on, but fear was gone, a lie lying in tomb.
Eyes looking for some shelter out along the fruited plain,
a place to rest my head in silence away from all the rain.
Seems the open sky is the only friend that I can trust,
I got no place to settle, I am doomed to wanderlust.
Drifting across the forests clinging to the mountainsides,
lurking in the cold places where the mad will always hide.
My feet are worn and tired and yet still I walk the miles,
there really isn’t much choice when you live as an exile.
There’s something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
Everything has a rule, either written or understood,
standing in the way of action, of doing any good.
Trying to speak to someone and it’s just some social game,
trying to get honest answers drives a man insane.
You try to use your reason and they call you cold and cruel,
but if you then use emotion they will say your 'anger-fueled.'
Act by your own judgement and they name you anti-social,
But acting by the will of others makes a man boring and dull.
There’s something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
Longing to find some others forsaken by society,
like that sweet girl in Kansas underneath the willow tree.
I’d love to pause a second, but I can’t the path is long.
It is the curse of freedom placed on those who don’t belong.
Maybe there’s no place for us, maybe there never will be.
Maybe that’s why we’re hermits stalking the periphery.
Out in the wild places might be the last spot for a man
who's born to a species that he can never truly understand.
There’ something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
The power of its empire’s influence once shook history from its feet
the number one world olive oil producer;
the home to the world’s largest tomato fight
and sits at the top in organ donation.
A country with a wordless national hymn
housing a cloud-kissing building with no automated climber;
a top seed in the accumulation of city bars
and in the preservation of an ancient language.
Neutrality-its stand point during the global wars
and the first importer of useful vegetables to the continent.
The seat being the only manifestation of its automobile hands
and a member of the global leaders in the production of saffrons.
Shakes hands with France through the pyrenes
diffusing a myth it first accommodated the modern man.
Concerned on the call girls to make them
share uniform-identity with highway workers
and globally popularized by conflicts of two great cities,
both in sports and in everyday life.
Much interest showers the sunflower seeds.
A bar kept clean speaks against itself.
Above all, its dynamic might lies majorly on its
competitive tourism and wide spread language.
At cock crow
Lady and Mr. Y, turned seventy
They googled themselves;
The wind whistled past
And exposed the gooses back
They felt the wrinkles
On their temple,
The rings around their eyes
And the tires around their waistline;
They threw caution to the wind,
Damned God's wisdom;
Rejected and refused the notion
That every product
Has a manufacture and expiration date
Like Adam and Eve,
They rebelled and went
On a rehabilitation and refurbishing spree:
First, was a tummy tuck, Liposuction,
Rhinoplasty and facelift,
Then,
Necklift, browlift, chinlift, breastlift
And facial rejuvenation.....
For a while,
They shortchanged nature
As a snake shells it's outer layer
But,
Could not cheat death
When it came knocking.
We are born into a Utopian world where everything lives and let lives
Politeness and manners exist as society never lets sieve
We learn to live with our neighbours amidst colours that nature has born
Living well into our tomorrows without the fear of being war-torn
Prejudice has never been heard whilst cussing never nears our ears
To walk our streets at whenever, over our shoulder you will never fear, fears
When we are born into a Utopian world where everything lives and let lives
The reason this can all come about, is purely because everyone gives
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
We are born from a fallopian world where reasons dictate how we live
Politeness and manner exist, sadly society has allowed them to sieve
Many learn to live with their neighbours amidst colours of nature born
Some live into their tomorrows, many enter the doors of war-torn
Prejudice appears to be worsening, cussing appears the norm
Many are scared to walk our streets as many out there have form
When we are born from the fallopian world where reasons dictate how we live
We don't enter what we hope is Utopia, many take and rarely give
On a life-boat passing through Time, making its way to the island of timely order(s).
Surrounded by death/decay and birth/unmanifested on the other side.
Surfing/Suffering on the waves of Time.
Maybe tonight.
The meaning of words change all the Time.
Unable to find meaning if not rooted in Time.
Counting up or counting down either way you are keeping Time.
Yet taking the Time to Time Time.
If Life is a zero sum game, what's the shortest interval that you have achieved this at?
Millennia, centuries, years, days or seconds ? M-C-IIIVIV-i-d?
Letting go generates space and time thus centering oneself in the present moment.
With precision and ease as in any clockmaker's watch.
The Sands of Time scatter as the hourglass shatters, turning to sand over Time.
Yet Time will keep its own Time.
Unless blocked by these very particles of sand.
Even though the books in the library are buried.
My spoken words will echo throughout Time.
Yet keep running out of sync in this fast changing world.
Acceptable losses by aiding incoherence.
As I await my Trial by Numbers.
The steel and glass reach to the sky,
the ground covered in man-made stone,
there are always people everywhere,
they scurry ‘bout while on their phones.
They call this place the ‘Big Apple,’
but there’s not one such tree in sight,
and here it can be a really bad idea
to stay out too late at night.
I say no,
trying to find a way home,
I’m just a savage in Rome,
needing a place where man
can breathe free,
that’s my sanctuary.
Seeing the steel towers gleam,
but not like a running stream,
needing a place
with no chains on me,
a cool, clean sanctuary.
The scrubby hills covered with homes,
vast halls that big actors inhabit.
The smog clings down in the valley
of a city where depravity’s rabid.
A desert full of many millions,
all of them there with a dream,
unaware or uncaring of the true costs
of being part of that scene.
I say no,
trying to find a way home,
I’m just a savage in Rome,
needing a place where man
can breathe free,
that’s my sanctuary.
Hollywood makes you wealthy,
if your comfortable on your knees,
needing a place
with more dignity
a cool, clean sanctuary.
The ridges rise and block the sun,
swift torrents carve through rock,
empty wilds give not a whit
about fashions, jobs, and clocks.
The trails, they wander endlessly
over raw dirt and bedrock tile,
nearby sits my house, tucked away,
my driveway a whole quarter mile.
I say whoa!
Finally found my way home,
here where a savage can roam,
deep in a place where man
still breathes free,
it’s my sanctuary.
Here where the rough waters team,
with a backyard of evergreens,
this is the place
where those fools can’t be,
my cool, clean sanctuary.