An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Wave after wave, after wave, over me. The salt it stings my eyes. I see a whale and he looks back at me. Why, whale, why do you cry?
By Tai Dean9 years ago in Poets
The Lovely Lagoon Diva the swan sings loudly Where the ducks surf by The Lovely Lagoon The little feet splash around Where the ducks surf by
By Chloe Gilholy9 years ago in Poets
The city lights are calling me The train has saved me a seat The street criers want to win my purse I’m getting out of bed
It's funny how a sunny day can turn so grey and start to spray cold precipitation while the clouds inflation shows a demonstration of the skies frustration.
By Joseph Grant9 years ago in Poets
One dead tree It sat through many of heaven's tears And many more pieces of cold angel wings Once a solace to many fears
By Drew Marple9 years ago in Poets
I stopped to smell the roses, as philosophers advise it. Alas, no cure - I'd stood in manure that was on the ground beside it.
By Claire Driver9 years ago in Poets
Wake up in the morning A little groggy in the head All of my body Asks to go back to bed Let the dogs out The morning routine
By Amanda Washburn9 years ago in Poets
Driving down the skyline Searching for the perfect places, Peaceful enough to match The serenity of your soul. Overlooking Crescent Rock
By Amelia Davis9 years ago in Poets
Speak trees, speak! Let your truths be known! Oh, if it could, wood would speak And let wisdom be shown Yet they are seemingly silent
By Conjury9 years ago in Poets
Here's to you: the seasoned sailorof these tempestuous wordsthe autumnal expert leaf turnerbook openerchapter beginnersecret enjoyer of craft pumpkin-spiced beveragesthe jaded cliche artistof suburbia's forgotten dreamsseptember beginsfor youconnoisseur ofdark corner cafésyeah, this one's for you:caffeinated poetof redundancieswith your enigmaticphilosophical tendenciesthere aren't enoughold wool sweatersand calf lengthboots to disguiseyour lax grip on the season's fashionis effortless the ephemera extraordinaireimmortalising the fleeting momentslingering in
By b g9 years ago in Poets
Damn. It is a perfect day outside. The breeze brushes the acorns and the smell of charcoal reminds me it's the weekend.
By Ti Ana9 years ago in Poets
Why do we wait, Until it’s too late, Before we try to make a change? Maybe because, We’re too ignorant or arrogant, To realise our initial mistakes,
By Felicity Lyons9 years ago in Poets
