Nature Prose Poetry Poems | Examples
These Nature Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Nature. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Nature poems written by international poets.
When the Earth Brings an End to the Day — Summer
Kevin Davis 2024
When my creatures rouse from midday’s rest,
Awakened softly by the sun’s low quest,
The western-turning light drifts down,
And warmth still hums through field and town.
Hide-and-seek and kick-the-can,
Catching fireflies, each fleeting span—
The children’s laughter fills the air,
As birds and insects dance with flair.
Long golden days invite delight,
As coolness softens fading light.
Crickets and frogs sing sleepy tunes,
And darkness gathers ‘neath the moons.
My fields grow quiet, the evening deep,
My creatures sigh and drift to sleep.
A few last games, then baths and bed—
Where joy still dances in each head.
Water is the offspring of space and time
and when it flows seeks to trace the area
of its parents courtship which resulted in
their fiery union producing seeds of nature
to provide for their nourishment and growth,
in the soil of this earth with its fertile clime.
_________________________________________
Just as it’s not always so
First thought is best thought
There’s always exceptions to the rule
Or to put it directly,
Rules are made to be broken,
Or more charitably
Rules are by nature fluid
Suited to conditions which are always
By definition conditional.
And so my rule of thumb for poetry
Less is more
Jostles with the other three axioms of creation;
Less is less
More is less
More is more
Always needing to be considered
In the broader context
Of what is being said
And to whom.
(11/15/24)
(A MLOKU)*
What a magnificent canvassing God gave us in the sky tonight;
The full moon and all the constellations glowing hypnotically;
With the oceans and the seas below, reflecting this glorious sight:-
*A 3-line poem with each line
having 17 syllables and the 1st
and 3rd line ending in a rhyme;
focus may be on both nature &
human nature.
I was walking along a pond
When I felt myself being watched
It was not a creepy feeling
But it was absolute.
This was the first time I had been in nature for awhile
Walking around a pond, feeling a soft gentle breeze
Aware of nature, a tree, a violet, a cattail,
Silence enveloped me, I felt cushioned.
So sure I was that I was being watched
I stood perfectly still for a few minutes.
Waiting…..
A small movement caught my eyes.
I turned and watched a tiny brown snake
Slither down the trunk of a cottonwood tree.
I knew then he had been watching me.
Susan had been abused and misused when I met her
She was not attempting to unleash herself at that point
I did not suggest it, it I something she had to decide to do
a few years later she had reinvented herself, she had confidence.
She had released herself from her captor and his negativity
he had isolated her, but she was now again with her family
surrounded by people who nurtured and cared for her
She told me nature and meditation had shown her the way
.
I sense that he speaks most to me.
Easy words flow straight to the heart,
and I hear Charley's voice while reading.
I do not know him, nor are we likely to
cross paths, but yet I seem to feel the
gentle pulsebeats of his heart through the
rhythm of his poems. When the question of
favorite was proposed, Mr. Smith came to mind.
I sense him to be an observer of people and nature;
one who finds them in nature's state, but if or when
duty calls, he makes them better than he found them,
leaving a sweet fragrance and a soft feeling melody.
120322PSCtest, Who is your best PS poet or poetess.
Sotto Poet. Favorite PS Poet, Charley Smith. 2P.
Love, nurture – abandon, disown...
Love, nurture – beat, rape, murder...
Love, nurture – build cities, blow them apart...
Love, nurture – despise, hate...
Love, nurture – rip young from their own wombs
for convenience and saleable body-parts....
Love, nurture – pray to a god that will forgive any snafu...
Love, nurture – God started with smaller creatures, and continued
to fail upwards....
Love, nurture – make a hell of one's world, then hide in politics, sports
music, theater, and poetry.
Small wonder many prefer dogs, cats, and stamp collecting....
Whew, today’s unexpected chilled wind
Made a mockery out of both spring
And fall in their changing off the guard-like
Waning and waxing in the rhythmic circadian
Nature of Nature’s revolving canvassing.
In frosty goosebump fashion, it appeared as if
Impatient, ole man winter, decided to give the day
An early “trick or treat” tease of what will later come.
And being treatless in preparation, my cringing
Cold nose is now filled with dripping sniffles.
Just imagine, fall has yet to canvas the carpeting
Of the ground with falling leaves of crucifixion
To allegorically remind us of the need to be prepared
For what will be falling upon us when winter comes.
Is ole man winter trying to be teasingly prophetic?!
When I think of sky
it is a study of shapes,
radiance with motion;
a lidless stadium for
wings and blissful soaring...
the mental athlete I am
some nature of me giving
all artful snapshots flight,
no ceilings to my heavens,
and trapdoors to all my
belows –
I like to think that nothing
is definite, all Time having
added space – all sentences
lavishly repealed by grace;
my affection for endlessly
happy endings – even wrecks
like me, God yet loving, putting
new heels and soles on my
wayward, panting soul,
out-pacing Him and now
needing blessed, merciful
mending....
If you require answers,
I'm not your person;
always having been
of the nature of questions –
always with my eyes forward
having little interest in
the written and read,
but the livelier experience
of the future write –
getting no inspiration from
a target-subject, less than one
moving....
They are raging with excitement; one is twerking. I ignore it.
Their voices are increasing in volume now, it is the weekend.
Enthusiasm keeps their spirits high; they are thrilled it is Friday.
Higher and higher their voices sing the joyful Friday afternoon song.
So many sounds from twenty-four excited fifth-graders.
Borderline shrieking; it is amazing to hear. I watch, thinking.
Future novelists are silent, organizing books in their heads.
Future screenwriters and poets are creating scenes in their minds.
The busiest ones are not the loudest and proudest.
They are not the ones twerking and shrieking.
They are the ones listening silently,
Studying and learning what human nature looks like.
THE GIFT
I am not loud to speak straight.
Neither capable to express my emotive urge.
Being reticent, reserved, introvert by nature, I am helpless.
I am offering this bunch of Jasmine carrying fragrance of my love
Please do honor the gift I have brought for you.
Don't make me feel ashamed.
The petals of the blossoms are soaked in my tears of
ardent ardor.
Please pick up scattered hopes of mine,
albeit I tried to weave those with Jasmine.
Have reverence over my dreamy desires of silent amour.
07/05/21
Calendared nature admits
winter has come and gone
and makes no apologies
for lingering chilled moments;
The audacious mendacity of spring
has clamped down a frost-bite
on the wolfing climatic ignorance
of ignoramuses who wallow in deceit;
Albeit it all, the cosmic deceit of nature
cannot be ignored by seasoned sufferers
and their sinusitis chains of oppression:
Now the winter of our discontent
must yield to a spring’s new awareness.
Sitting here waiting…
fogged brain—like an anxious
womb craving impregnation of
creativity—pleading the inner
genius thereof, to usher in the labor
that issues the birth of the long
awaited poem.
It’s soon painfully realized that poetry
is nature and nature is poetry—deciding
when and where the midwife of revelations
will be called to delivery.
The crisis of unawareness cured—awareness—
I now cheerfully labor in tender contemplation; the
Spirit of nature’s midwife soothing my suffering with
The coming joy of the birth of motherhood.