Introspection Nature Poems

Nature's flower runs through my fears,
Her old seasons there interceding
On the silver gray blunt of the shears,
Where the stem—sharpened by night—is keeping
For the day's rain...

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I stood …

on a mountain
not nearly the highest
but the air was clean … seraphic
cold, but not bone-chilling
keen, that it restore the marrow
and course the blood...

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Her spring returns to me, in death,
I shed a tear, alone, 
for the weeping blossoms,
in the knowledge a moon will rise again,
before the rhythm of...

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Twas' a mellowing twilight on the end of the day
Where the whispers of dusk benignly sway
when the weary traveler of orange bid adieu
varnishing the sky...

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In the quiet morning, light pierces the dawn,  
Each ray a soft reminder:  
Breathe deeply,  
Step forward without hesitation.

Moments cascade like a...

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The other side of nowhere

Clear running water.
The other side of nowhere.
In the deep forest.

A place we once played.
Away from the scorching sun.
As children we joyed....

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I take in the morning's last breath,
it's fleeting hour, surrounded, 
by little whispers of thought,
I swear, will lead me to where,
the rivers run too deep,
but,...

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It's partial to Winter's bark gloom and weed bite—
Then comes Spring with his light massaging through stone,
In cold spots along her dark towering spine—
That lovers...

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Seeds dropping off stray blossoms
Shaking heads with the cold—
A skinny patches' prayer in a garden

Instead of frost, dirt's growing pains—
That Spring bed throughout Winter's room,
Warming...

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I have lived a life in vagabond shoes
aimlessly wandering without direction
and have wondered about all I could lose
from the weeping of dangling imperfection

Still, I've journeyed...

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Winter with thoughtful wings slips upon
When her voice is too frail to hold life—
Everywhere green, this light she's from;
In gentleness back the forest bites,
As feathery...

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As the door's brass knob aches—
Where winter season holders twist;
A new bloom in her child's frame—
Outside in my heart throb away.

Where winter season holders twist,
By...

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I shaved my head
and wore a robe
the mountain pass
I found at last
grew thin alas
but fat I got
on nature's lot
her sounds were not
my thoughtless strobe
though I...

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Amidst silent morrow's plea,
I plant myself in the ruins,
of a clementine tree,
fusing to the roots,
under the carriage,
of life and death, 
her barks brittle,
sweet breath,
meeting,
in undress.

...

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placing a pen upon the desk
aligned with paper
grooves of wood and knots in stain
as if absorbed in thought and mind
they seep from below 
as if...

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