Wild Poems - Poems about Wild

Out comes the storm In a galloping parade Of silver and iron Honour masking the greed of men In the rattling and dim wilderness The rituals and the songs Are ready to be extinguished By those who rule over gods And then a fatal sob Pierces through the still ether And the keepsakes of ages Are washed away in a river the colour of...

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wild eyed pancakes invented by grandma two kernels of corn for eyes delighting her grandchildren sometimes a mistake makes the best memory...

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everyone wants women to be a sunflower; bright, tall, forever reaching for the sun. but honey, some of us are sprawling bushes filled with blackberries, hidden by bramble. some of us are mighty oaks, strong, secure with no intention of giving way. but the beautiful thing about blackberries is if you make your way through the bramble, and gently...

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I walked where the trees don’t speak— yet somehow, I heard everything. The wind and the trees held secret meetings, and the leaves nodded in agreement, like spectators dressed in green. The waters didn’t rush— they marched steadily down the riverbank, telling stories in ripples— of rain that once fell, and mountains they had kissed on the way. The sun appeared, golden and gentle. Snakes and lizards...

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Wild raccoons came in and took over Uncle Steve’s birthday bash. They did not bring presents, food, well wishes or any cash. The rest of us scrambled away from the clubhouse in a flash. Frankly, I did not know that Grandma Willie had that much dash...

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He wore no mask of murder’s face, No blade was in his hand, But still they called his love a crime, And could not understand. He kissed a boy with poet’s grace, The courts replied: “He’s banned.” They cast him in a narrow cell, Where joy must learn to die. He’d loved too much, and not too safe: Too deep, too true, too high. And...

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Inspiration for this poem is Ruby Tuesday by The Stones 22/6/25 1392 ___________________________________________________________ ...

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Sailboat ...

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When we parted at the airport you left a part of you behind, Your scent Lingering still on my shirts, my clothes my hands. I crushed them to my face and breathed you in, my eyes closed, remembering you. You smelled like lemons and flowers and strawberries. You filled the room, every room with the scent of you,then...

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Road work had been finished for the winter on an asphalt strip north of town near a nature preserve. I said good-bye to the hotel owner and he invited me back although the town was a lifetime away from my home. We shook hands. The town wore its history well with a façade of an old west town complete with a jail and post...

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I love to see the wild flowers, How they blossom and bloom, I could watch them for hours. Each and every one is unique, Leaves of green, Petals so delicate, Gently swaying and dance in the breeze, Soft whispers can be heard, Surrounded by woodlands and beautiful trees. Wild flowers appearing, Brightening up dull areas, everywhere, They...

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In the howling wilderness, the path is lost beneath the fury of wild winds, The compass loses its meaning under the vast and empty sky, without stars to guide us, Our steps wander through the nameless realm, where echoes forget their words, Alone we walk through the wilderness of the heart, seeking traces of vanished dreams. The thorns of...

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Love was once a wild fire, a living flame igniting every touch with the brightness of night, We spoke in warmth, in whispered desires, with hearts beating wildly and hands tracing the fire’s path, But love is not meant to remain a flame, not a spark that burns and flickers always the same, It softens, deepens, learns to...

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When wild beasts roar against its blood The grizzlies raise their claws to swing They'll bathe the field in crimson flood When wild beasts roar No ties survive what desires bring Estrus whips ursine rage to bud For nature bows to just one king Gone were their childish plays as cubs Old bonds break for the sake of bling Where one takes crown,...

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If I ever had a daughter like me, I’d call her my little desert rose so she knows I’ve lived it too— a brittle-stemmed rose blooming through sandstorms. Were I to have a daughter— someone soft like me... I’d tell her I’m sorry. Not for bringing her into a world where cruelty exists— but for letting her live in it when her petals part before her thorns remember...

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